Dawn painted the world in shades of blue and silver when we slipped out of the western gate.
Frost crusted the grass. Our breath plumed white. The trees loomed, dark and dense, the forest holding its own kind of stillness.
Brenna adjusted the strap of her pack, which was almost as big as she was. “I still think this is a terrible idea,” she whispered, eyes bright. “But if you’re going to do something terrible, you absolutely need me there.”
“You volunteered,” I muttered.
“Of course I did,” she said. “What kind of best friend would I be if I let you go chase mystery magic with only a moody alpha and a grumbly Gamma for company?”
“I’m here too,” Eren pointed out, trotting along on my other side.
“Including you in the ‘moody alpha’ category,” Brenna said. “You sighed six times before we even reached the gate.”
“I did not,” Eren protested.
“You did,” I said.
He scowled. “This is serious. We’re leaving the main wards. There could be rogues. Or worse.”
“You’re about to be a Gamma,” Brenna said sweetly. “You can’t go around making that face every time we say ‘rogue.’ Your men will think you need more fiber.”
“I hate you,” he muttered.
“You love me,” she sang.
Tiernan, riding ahead with Kellan and Rian, glanced back at the bickering behind him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Elyra had insisted on a small but solid escort—six warriors, all experienced, all handpicked by Kellan. They kept formation around us without making it feel like a prison.
I rode between Tiernan and Brenna, my mare’s hooves muffled on the frosted ground.
Ashra paced just under my skin, ears pricked, nose twitching at every new scent.
*We’re close,* she murmured after an hour. *Feel that?*
At first, I felt nothing beyond the usual forest textures—the hum of sap in the trees, the faint pulse of the earth.
Then…I noticed it.
A subtle vibration.
Like someone plucking a string, very, very softly.
The closer we got to the ridge, the stronger it became.
A low, constant thrum at the base of my skull.
Tiernan shifted in his saddle, jaw tightening. Rian straightened, gaze going distant.
“You feel it,” Tiernan said quietly.
I nodded. “Like…someone humming into the ground.”
Kellan’s brows drew together. “I don’t sense anything,” he muttered.
“Old magic doesn’t talk to everyone,” Rian said. “Only those with the right…ears.”
“That’s infuriating,” Brenna said.
“It keeps idiots from poking the wrong stones,” Rian replied.
We crested the last rise and the western watchtower came into view.
It wasn’t much to look at.
A squat, circular structure of gray stone, half-swallowed by moss and creeping vines. It rose from the edge of a ravine that cut a jagged scar through the forest floor, its depths shrouded in shadow.
The tower’s top was broken, jagged like snapped teeth, the old battlements long since crumbled.
Around its base, half-buried in earth and roots, stood a ring of stones.
Six of them, waist-high, carved with faint, weather-worn symbols.
They hummed.
Not audibly.
But my wolf-feeling flared as we approached, every hair on my arms lifting.
“That’s…uncomfortable,” I muttered, sliding down from my horse.
Brenna made a face. “They look like someone tried to build a very serious stone circle and then got bored.”
Rian chuckled. “That’s essentially what happened,” he said. “This used to be a full ring. Twelve stones. Ritual ground. The ravine wasn’t here then. When the earth cracked in the last war, half the circle fell.”
“What were they used for?” Eren asked warily.
“Binding,” Rian said. “Weather. Storms. Elemental pacts. Supposedly. The stories are…fragmented.”
Tiernan’s gaze was locked on the stones, his expression tight.
I stepped closer.
Each stone bore different marks—swirls, jagged lines, circles within circles. Some had faint stains along their tops, dark brown and long dried.
“Is that…blood?” Brenna asked, nose wrinkling.
“Likely,” Rian said. “Old. Human. Wolves used to bleed on everything. Stones. trees. Each other.”
“That’s unsanitary,” Brenna said.
“Effective,” Rian countered. “Magic likes sacrifice.”
I reached out, drawn despite myself, fingers hovering over the nearest stone.
“Kaia,” Tiernan warned.
“I’m not touching it,” I said. “Just…feeling.”
Ashra stretched toward it.
*Old,* she murmured. *Tired. But not dead.*
“Does it…like us?” I muttered.
Brenna made a strangled sound. “Please don’t flirt with rocks,” she whispered. “I can’t handle that reality.”
*It remembers us,* Ashra said. *Not specifically. Our kind. Storm and fire. Blood and oath.*
A shiver ran down my spine.
“What is it saying?” Tiernan asked quietly.
I blinked. “You don’t hear it?”
“Not the words,” he said. “Just the hum.”
*We are not its child,* Ashra clarified. *But we are…kin. Cousin to the lightning that cracked the ground. It knows our taste.*
“Comforting,” I muttered.
“Kaia,” Kellan said. “Anything…off? Different from the usual hum?”
I closed my eyes.
Listened.
Under the constant thrum, there was a…wobble.
A faint, irregular vibrato.
Like a plucked string that had been bent slightly out of tune.
“There,” I said slowly, pointing to the stone directly opposite the one I hovered near. “That one. It’s…wrong. Sour.”
Rian moved to it, crouched, pressed his palm flat to the weathered surface.
His eyes narrowed.
“Someone bled on this recently,” he said.
Eren stiffened. “Recently…how recently?”
Rian inhaled, expression tightening. “A week. Maybe less. The scent is faint under the old iron, but it’s there.”
“Can you tell…who?” I asked.
“Wolf,” he said. “Young. Not from Stormwake. Not from Redwood.”
“Another pack,” Kellan said grimly.
“Or a rogue,” Rhys’s voice came from behind us.
I turned, surprised.
He’d ridden behind the main group, silent, his aura damped down so thoroughly I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Wolves can lose pack-scent if they’re away long enough,” he said. “Or if they bathe in the right herbs. But their *blood* remembers. At least for a while.”
Rian stood. “This one’s blood doesn’t sing of any pack sigils?” he asked.
“No,” Rhys said. “Which means either they’re very good at hiding. Or they’ve been separate long enough the bonds have frayed.”
“Elementals outside pack,” Ashra mused. *Lonely. Angry. Or both.*
“So someone’s been using our nice old creepy stones without permission,” Brenna said. “Rude.”
“Very,” Rian agreed. “Tier.”
Tiernan stepped up, eyes scanning the symbols.
“Can you feel any pattern?” Rian asked him. “Anything…familiar from Stormwake’s circles?”
Tiernan laid his hand flat on the second stone.
A faint spark jumped.
He inhaled sharply.
“Two surges,” he said slowly. “One older. One…new. The older one feels like the earth fracturing. The ravine opening. The newer…” His jaw clenched. “Feels like the hall. Fire reaching. Something…or someone…trying to wake what’s asleep here.”
My stomach dropped.
“They’re not just lighting random fires,” I said. “They’re poking *this*.”
“Yes,” Rian said grimly.
“And Kaia’s presence here,” Elyra said, “might encourage them to poke harder. Or to reveal themselves.”
I hugged myself against a sudden chill.
“Well,” Brenna said bracingly. “If they show up, at least we’ll be on hallowed ground. That’s got to count for something.”
Rian chuckled. “You’re very optimistic, omega Brenna.”
“I’m very determined not to let them think we’re scared,” she shot back. “Fear helps them. Right, Kaia?”
She was right.
Fear gave the hall fire teeth.
Fear made my first shift messy.
Fear bowed my head in the dining hall when I spilled porridge.
I straightened.
“I’m not scared,” I lied.
Ashra huffed. *We are scared. We move anyway. That’s what matters.*
“She’s right,” Tiernan said softly, reading the tension in my shoulders. “You can be terrified and still be the calmest head in the storm. Believe me. I’ve done it.”
“Deep,” Brenna muttered under her breath.
“Annoying,” I muttered.
But some of the tightness in my chest loosened.
“Rian, Eren,” Kellan said, “do a perimeter sweep. Warriors, pairs. Stay within shout of the circle. Brenna, with me by the tower stairs. Kaia, Tiernan—you…listen. But no channeling without warning me first. Last thing we need is the ravine growing a few more feet.”
“Got it,” Tiernan said.
We obeyed.
Eren shot me a reassuring look before trotting off with one of the warriors, scenting the air, scanning for disturbances in the underbrush.
Brenna lingered near the tower’s crumbling entrance with Kellan, peppering him with questions about structural integrity and how likely it was the roof would fall on her head if she peeked inside.
I knelt by the nearest stone, palms lightly resting on my thighs.
Ashra pressed up, curious and restless.
*We are really doing this,* she said. *Talking to rocks. Mama would be proud.*
*She’d tell us not to set ourselves on fire,* I said.
*We’ll try,* Ashra replied.
Tiernan crouched beside me, not touching, close enough that his scent wrapped around me.
“Ready?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I said. “But we’re here.”
He smiled faintly. “That’s always been half the battle.”
We closed our eyes.
At first, all I felt was the usual hum—earth’s slow heartbeat, sap whispering in the trees, the faint sting of frost.
Then, gradually, the stones’ song emerged.
They hummed like tuning forks, each on a slightly different note.
The “wrong” one—the one Rian had touched—was sharp. Grating.
It pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Faster than the others.
*There,* Ashra said. *Something…stuck. Underneath.*
I probed gently with my awareness.
My mind brushed something that wasn’t stone.
It gave.
Like touching wet clay under a dry crust.
*Blood,* Ashra said. *Fresh. Bound. Not released properly.*
“What’s that mean?” I whispered aloud.
Tiernan’s brow furrowed. “They did a ritual,” he murmured. “But didn’t finish it. Or did it wrong. The energy…pooling…feels like a miscast ward. Unstable.”
“Can you fix it?” Kellan called, hearing the strain in his voice.
Tiernan didn’t answer.
His jaw flexed.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “And I don’t want to try without knowing what they were *trying* to do. Poking blindly at half-finished magic is how you get holes in your territory.”
“Or bodies,” Rian added grimly, returning from the first sweep. “No tracks. No scent trails beyond the usual. Whatever wolf bled here covered their traces well.”
“Coward,” Ashra snarled.
*Not coward,* I countered. *Cautious. Like we’ve been for eight years.*
She made a displeased noise.
The stone under my fingers vibrated faintly.
Not enough to be physical.
Just enough that my bones noticed.
Then—
Very faint.
Very subtle.
A whisper.
Not in words.
In…intent.
Heat.
Anger.
Loneliness.
Rage.
It slid along my nerves like cold fire.
I hissed, jerking my hands back.
Tiernan’s eyes snapped open. “Kaia?”
“I felt…something,” I said, heart hammering. “Not just old magic. Someone. Recently. They were…angry.”
Rian leaned forward. “How angry?”
“Like…” I struggled for the right description. “Like they wanted the world to feel what they feel. Burn. Crack. Fall.”
Brenna shivered visibly. “I don’t like that,” she said.
“Most people don’t like arsonists,” Eren muttered, returning with his partner. “Borders are clear. For now.”
“Clear doesn’t mean safe,” Kellan said. “We don’t know how long they watched before they bled here.”
“Or if they’re watching now,” Tiernan added.
My skin crawled.
I lifted my head, scanning the treeline.
Nothing moved beyond our own wolves.
No scent on the wind beyond pine, frost, horse, leather.
But Ashra’s hackles were up.
*We are seen,* she said. *Not touched. Not heard. But seen.*
“Someone’s out there,” I said. “Hiding. Watching.”
Rian swore softly. “Subtle bastards,” he muttered. “They’ve learned from the old rebels’ mistakes.”
Tiernan’s aura sharpened, a storm front building.
“Do we flush them?” he asked Kellan. “Or pretend we don’t know they’re here and see what they do?”
Kellan’s jaw clenched. “If we chase shadows, we leave the elemental and the Luna’s favorite omega exposed,” he said bluntly. “I vote we pull back. Report. Reinforce wards. They won’t risk using the stones again if they know we’ve found them.”
“They might,” Rian countered. “Desperation makes wolves stupid.”
“We’re not desperate yet,” Kellan snapped.
“Yet,” Rian echoed.
Rhys had been silent this whole time, standing a little apart, gaze scanning the ravine and the trees with a predator’s patience.
Now he spoke.
“We leave,” he said. “For now. We double the watch. We ward these stones as best we can with what we have. And we do something our ancestors weren’t very good at.”
“What’s that?” Elyra asked softly.
“We talk,” he said. “To the other alphas. To the packs with old blood. We stop pretending this is just a Redwood problem or a Stormwake problem. Because if someone is gathering elementals and poking at old wounds, this spreads. Fast.”
Rian inclined his head. “Stormwake is ready,” he said. “To share what we know. To listen.”
Tiernan’s gaze found mine.
“And to fight,” he said quietly. “If we must.”
Ashra flicked her tail in my chest. *We’re good at fighting,* she said. *We need practice at not burning innocent things. But fighting? We understand.*
My heart pounded.
“We go back,” I said, surprising myself with how much the thought of the packhouse—the walls, the training yard, even the cabbage-scented omega wing—felt like something I wanted to protect, not just escape. “We get ready. And next time they bleed on our rocks, we’ll be waiting.”
Brenna bumped my hip with hers. “See?” she whispered. “Terrible ideas are always more fun with friends.”
“Don’t make me regret bringing you,” I muttered.
“You won’t,” she said, her grin sharp. “I’m going to make the best suspicious-visitor list you’ve ever seen.”
Tiernan laughed under his breath.
The sound lodged in my chest.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
The word sank into me.
Home.
Not just the omega bunks.
Not just the training ring.
The whole, messy, infuriating, fire-scarred pack.
For the first time, the idea of defending it didn’t feel like just repaying a debt my parents left behind.
It felt…like something I wanted for myself.
For Ashra.
For Brenna and Eren and Nana Lysa.
And, infuriatingly, for the storm-eyed alpha who insisted on putting himself between me and every threat like it was the most natural thing in the world.
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