THE OATHBREAKER

They say silver’s the only thing that can kill a werewolf but they're wrong. All it takes is betrayal, a broken oath, or a pack that turns its back and buries you in a shallow grave of silence. And now? Now they’re hunting me, they’ve been doing so for a while now but I’m trained so I’ve managed to evade them for so long. The forest is like a second skin, damp and dense, shadows shifting with each breath I take. My boots hit the ground in a continuous rhythm of left, right, and pain. The wound in my side pulses with every heartbeat, blood seeping through the torn leather of my jacket, the scent sharp and metallic which served as a beacon because they’d smell me soon if they hadn't already. I ducked behind a thick cedar trunk, my hand pressed to my ribs, and knife trembling in the other. Not silver, I couldn’t afford it, but forged from iron and salt, etched with runes I barely understood and never trusted. It had kept me alive this long and that would have to be enough. Branches snapped to my right and I heard voices, low, and familiar. “She’s close,” said one, male, and gruff. That voice used to whisper jokes over stolen bottles of whiskey around the fire. Calder. The name lodged like splinters in my throat and I forced myself to focus on remaining hidden rather than confronting them and eventually getting killed. “I caught her scent down by the ravine, she’s bleeding so she won’t get far.” I’d heard that before, every time they found me, and every time they failed but this time, I wasn’t sure they were wrong. I hadn’t eaten in two days, I couldn’t risk it, I couldn’t shift either, not with broken ribs and blood loss. I’d left a trail, and I knew it, the kid I saved, barely old enough to shift had stumbled into rogue territory, terrified and half-starved. They wanted to kill him but I couldn’t let them, I never could, not even now. That was my curse, always the protector but never the survivor and I needed to survive this since they wouldn’t get the best of me. “Fan out and search!” Calder barked like he had the balls to face me directly. “Don’t let her slip again.” Leaves rustled around and footsteps moved in three directions, one of them was coming right past me so I held my breath, heart hammering so hard I thought the trees might hear it. The moment the figure passed, I moved quick, low, and silent. My blade found his thigh first, then his neck. He crumpled with a wet gasp, eyes wide as recognition flickered in them just before they dimmed. Marek. Shit. I didn’t look at his face, I couldn’t because hesitation would get me killed so I pressed on, weaving between trees and rocks, heart pounding with regret and adrenaline. I’d known him too, laughed with him, trained with him, but mercy was a luxury I couldn’t afford now. I burst out of the trees and skidded to a halt because there was a cliff at the edge. The forest ended in a sheer drop, a jagged wall of stone plunging into a black river that shimmered beneath the moon. It looked peaceful, almost inviting me to dive but it was at least a hundred feet down and if the current didn’t kill me, the fall might. I turned, blade ready, just in time to see Calder step into the clearing. He moved like a predator, slow, confident, bleeding from his thigh, but grinning like he’d already won. Two more wolves flanked him, younger, and twitchy with nerves. “Nowhere left to run, Celeste.” I straightened, ignoring the fire on my side. “You always were good at showing up after someone else did the hard work.” He laughed. “Still got that mouth on you, huh?” The other wolves shifted their stances nervously and I didn’t blame them. They’d all heard stories of the Oathbreaker who vanished into the wild, who bled her enemies dry and never got caught. I took a slow step back, my heels touching the cliff’s edge. The wind stirred my hair, carrying the scent of moss and Riverstone. “I should’ve killed you myself,” Calder growled. “Back then, it would’ve saved us all the trouble.” “You should’ve,” I agreed. “But you didn’t.” I raised the blade to strike and then the air changed. It hit like a pulse, no, a tremor. A low hum in the earth, like something ancient had stirred. The wolves froze, eyes wide and Calder sniffed the air, frowning. “You feel that?” I nodded once and a moment later, they appeared. Figures stepped from the shadows, hooded, and cloaked in black, gliding silently across the ground like smoke. Six, maybe seven of them with no scent or heartbeat but the magic that clung to them reeked of death and blood. Calder turned, startled. “Who the hell-?” He started as the one in front raised a hand and dark tendrils erupted from the ground, thin, like smoke made solid. They twisted through the air, wrapped around the nearest wolf, and yanked him into the earth before he could scream, bones cracked, and blood sprayed everywhere. The others panicked and one shifted halfway before a tendril speared his chest. Calder ran away like the coward he was while I stood frozen, not out of fear but out of recognition because this was blood magic. I hadn’t seen it in years, not since the old wars, and not since the Nightmoor Pack had purged the last coven and salted the ground they died on but now it was back and it was hunting me. One of the cloaked figures turned to me, I couldn’t see their face, but I felt the weight of their stare like a chain across my shoulders. “Target confirmed,” they said, voice echoing strangely. “Celeste Drenna, oathbreaker, secure for the Alpha.” The Alpha? I thought confused but I didn’t ask or argue with them, I just jumped off the cliff. The fall was instant and endless as the wind roared past my ears and I twisted, arms tight to my sides, aiming for the darkest part of the river, praying the water would hold me like it used to when I was a pup and fearless. The impact hit like a truck, cold, and blinding and then everything started to blur, as my senses dulled before I lost consciousness. I woke up coughing repeatedly, spitting out river water from my lungs. Every bone ached and my side screamed as I lay on a damp stone beneath a canvas roof, my body too weak to move. Voices murmured nearby, deep, low, and male as I realized my wrists were bound in iron not silver, but heavy and cold. My clothes were gone, replaced by rough linens, the scent of herbs and fire assured me I was alive for now. The tent flap rustled a minute later and a man stepped inside, tall and broad-shouldered, with eyes like winter steel, commanding, controlled, and dangerous. He was an alpha and he didn’t need to say it or affirm his position because I could feel it as my wolf stirred at the weight of his presence, wary but curious. “I’m Torian Vex,” he said, voice smooth and deliberate. “You’re in my territory now.” I sat up slowly at that, every muscle resisting. “Great, another Alpha, just what I needed.” His mouth twitched, not quite into a smile as he continued. “You jumped off a cliff, not many survive that.” “I’m not most people.” “No. You’re the Oathbreaker.” I tensed at his tone. “You say that like it’s a crime.” He stepped closer and I stared cautiously. “The forest tells stories, Celeste, about what’s coming. Packs are disappearing, use of blood magic, and those are things that haven’t walked this land in centuries.” I looked up. “And you think I have answers?” “I think you’re the only one left who’s seen it before.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “What do you want?” His reply was quiet and certain. “A deal.” I laughed bitterly at the idea. “Everyone wants something so get on with it.” He crouched down, to level with me. There was no aggression, but just a presence, his scent was unfamiliar and smelled like cedar, ash, and something else beneath the surface. Not like Nightmoo and not like anyone I’d known. “You help me stop them,” he said. “And I will give you what you want.” “Which is?” I countered, but Torian didn’t even blink or hesitate. “Freedom.” He said, and I remained silent, as we watched each other but I wasn’t sure of what to say next.