Blackthorn
1550 Words
The gates of Blackthorn opened before Vaelith reached them.
That was the first thing that bothered her.
The second was the fact that no one was standing there to greet her.
The third was the feeling that something on the other side was already waiting.
She slowed her horse as the enormous iron gates swung inward with a groan. Beyond them stretched a road lined with dark pines, their branches twisting together overhead like fingers.
Blackthorn territory had a reputation.
Now she understood why.
It wasn’t beautiful in the warm, welcoming way of the villages she’d grown up around. It was beautiful like a blade—sharp, polished, and capable of drawing blood.
Vaelith tightened her fingers around the reins.
“So this is where the terrifying Alpha lives.”
The horse flicked an ear.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m allowed to have opinions.”
The animal snorted.
“Exactly.”
She urged it forward.
The moment she crossed the boundary, something strange happened.
Her skin prickled.
A shiver traveled from her spine to the tips of her fingers.
Then the silver mark beneath her collarbone burned.
Vaelith sucked in a breath.
She nearly lost her grip on the reins.
The horse suddenly stopped.
“Easy.”
Her eyes swept across the forest.
Nothing.
No movement.
No sound except wind moving through the trees.
Yet she could feel something.
A presence.
Watching.
Waiting.
She touched the mark through her clothing.
It was hot.
Far too hot.
And somewhere deep inside her, something stirred.
Not fear.
Something older.
Something that didn’t feel entirely human.
We’re home.
Vaelith froze.
The voice had not come from outside.
It had come from inside her.
Her breath caught.
She closed her eyes.
“What did you just say?”
Silence.
She opened them again.
Nothing.
“Wonderful,” she muttered. “Now I’m hearing voices.”
A twig snapped behind her.
Vaelith spun.
Her hand went automatically to the small blade strapped beneath her coat.
A black wolf stood between the trees.
Massive.
Its fur was so dark it seemed to absorb the weak daylight.
Its eyes were silver.
Vaelith stared.
The wolf stared back.
Neither moved.
Then the creature turned and disappeared into the forest.
Her horse began trembling.
“You’re kidding.”
She looked down.
The animal’s ears were flattened.
“It’s just a wolf.”
The horse shook harder.
“Fine. A very large wolf.”
She looked toward the trees.
“With unsettling eyes.”
Something told her the wolf wasn’t ordinary.
And something even deeper told her she shouldn’t follow it.
For once, she listened to herself.
She continued toward the estate.
⸻
Blackthorn’s main house appeared beyond the trees.
Vaelith had expected a fortress.
She hadn’t expected something that looked like one had been designed by someone with excellent taste.
Dark stone walls climbed toward a steep roof. Tall windows reflected the gray sky. Massive columns framed the entrance, while black roses grew along the stone paths.
Several wolves stood near the courtyard.
They stopped talking when Vaelith approached.
Every pair of eyes turned toward her.
Whispers followed.
“That’s her.”
“The mark…”
“Impossible.”
“She actually came.”
Vaelith dismounted.
She handed the reins to a stable boy who looked approximately twelve years old and terrified.
“Do you always stare at guests?”
He swallowed.
“No.”
“Good.”
She smiled.
“Then we’re already making progress.”
The boy hurried away.
Vaelith adjusted her coat.
The front doors opened.
A tall woman stepped outside.
She wore a dark green dress, her silver-blond hair braided neatly down her back. Her expression was polite.
Too polite.
“Vaelith Arden.”
“That’s me.”
“I am Seraphine Veyr.”
Vaelith studied her.
There was something about the woman that made every instinct inside her tighten.
Seraphine smiled.
“Alpha Draven is waiting.”
“Of course he is.”
She started toward the house.
Seraphine’s eyebrow lifted.
“You aren’t nervous.”
“I am.”
“Really?”
“Very.”
Vaelith glanced at her.
“I’m just better at pretending than most people.”
For the first time, Seraphine’s smile looked genuine.
Then it vanished.
“That may be useful here.”
They entered the house.
Warmth wrapped around Vaelith immediately.
The interior was surprisingly quiet.
No servants rushing around.
No loud conversations.
No music.
Only the faint ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere beyond the hall.
Seraphine led her through a long corridor.
Vaelith noticed the portraits lining the walls.
Alphas.
Generations of them.
Every face looked severe.
Until she stopped.
One portrait was different.
A younger man stood beside a woman with long dark hair.
Vaelith’s heart stumbled.
She knew that woman.
Her mother.
Elara Arden.
Vaelith stepped closer.
“Where did you get that?”
Seraphine stopped.
She turned slowly.
“What?”
“My mother.”
Seraphine’s expression changed so subtly that another person might have missed it.
Vaelith didn’t.
“That painting.”
Seraphine looked at it.
“It has been here for many years.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s becoming a popular answer around here.”
Seraphine’s eyes narrowed.
Before she could respond, a voice came from the end of the corridor.
“Leave us.”
Two words.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Absolute.
Vaelith turned.
And saw him.
Draven Kael.
He stood beneath the archway dressed entirely in black.
No crown.
No ceremonial clothing.
He didn’t need either.
His presence filled the corridor.
He was taller than she’d expected, broad-shouldered, with dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. His face was sharply defined, his expression unreadable.
But it was his eyes that held her.
Gray.
Cold.
And focused entirely on her.
Vaelith felt the strange mark beneath her collarbone burn again.
Draven’s jaw tightened.
For the briefest moment, something flashed across his face.
Recognition.
Then it disappeared.
Seraphine lowered her head.
“Alpha.”
She walked away.
Vaelith remained where she was.
Draven didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Finally, his gaze dropped toward her collarbone.
Her hand instinctively covered the mark.
His eyes snapped back to hers.
“Who told you about Blackthorn?”
“Your messenger.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
Vaelith blinked.
“Interesting.”
His brow furrowed.
“You sent me an order.”
“I did.”
“And now you’re saying you didn’t ask me to come?”
“I ordered you here.”
“That’s generally considered asking someone to come.”
“No.”
His voice remained calm.
“It isn’t.”
Vaelith stared at him.
“You’re going to be exhausting.”
Something almost resembling amusement flickered in his eyes.
Almost.
Then it vanished.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
She folded her arms.
“Then why summon me?”
Draven stepped closer.
Not enough to touch her.
Enough to make the air feel different.
“I wanted to see whether the rumors were true.”
“What rumors?”
His eyes traveled over her face.
“That you survived.”
Vaelith’s stomach dropped.
“Survived what?”
He said nothing.
She took a step closer.
“What exactly do you think I survived?”
Draven’s expression hardened.
“Go back.”
“Excuse me?”
“Leave Blackthorn.”
Vaelith laughed in disbelief.
“You summoned me here to tell me to leave?”
“Yes.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
The answer was so calm that she almost laughed again.
Almost.
Draven turned away.
“Your room has been prepared. You can rest before you leave.”
Vaelith stared at his back.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
He stopped.
Slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I can’t.”
“Won’t.”
His eyes darkened.
“Can’t.”
For the first time, Vaelith heard something beneath his coldness.
Fear.
Not fear of her.
Fear for her.
And somehow, that frightened her more.
She opened her mouth.
Then the mark beneath her collarbone erupted with heat.
Vaelith gasped.
Her knees weakened.
Draven moved instantly.
His hand caught her arm before she fell.
The moment his skin touched hers, a shock tore through both of them.
Draven released her as though burned.
His breathing had changed.
So had hers.
Silence swallowed the corridor.
Draven stared at her.
Not at her face.
At the mark hidden beneath her clothes.
His expression finally cracked.
Horror.
Absolute horror.
“Impossible.”
Vaelith steadied herself against the wall.
“What?”
Draven took one step backward.
Then another.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“You’re the last Aether.”
Vaelith’s blood ran cold.
Before she could ask what that meant, the Alpha’s eyes lifted to hers.
And for the first time since she’d entered Blackthorn, Draven Kael looked genuinely afraid.
“Gods help us,” he breathed.
“Why?”
His gaze locked onto hers.
“Because if the Moon Council discovers you’re alive…”
He paused.
The silence stretched.
“…they won’t come for you.”
Vaelith’s pulse hammered.
“Then who will they come for?”
Draven’s expression turned to stone.
“Everyone you’ve ever loved.”
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