The night after the western stones, I dreamed of fire.
Not the wild, hungry blaze in the hall.
Not the controlled, simmering warmth in my veins under the waterfall.
This fire was…blue.
It licked along the edges of old stones, refused to catch on wood, curled around wolves without singeing their fur.
In the center of the circle, a figure stood.
Not wolf.
Not fully human.
Something in between.
Their eyes were…wrong.
Milky white, like the rogues from my childhood nightmare, but clear underneath. A thin ring of electric blue circled each pupil.
They watched me.
Not with hate.
With hunger.
*Come,* a voice whispered.
It wasn’t Ashra.
It wasn’t Tiernan.
It wasn’t any voice I knew.
*You don’t belong in their cages,* it said. *In their ranks and rules. Come to the places where stone remembers your name. We’ll show you what you really are.*
Fear skittered along my spine.
Anger followed.
“You don’t know me,” I said, though my lips didn’t move.
The figure tilted their head. *We know enough. We saw you in the flames. Staying your hand when they wouldn’t have. That’s something. That’s why we call.*
“Who are you?” I demanded.
They smiled.
Blue fire flickered behind their teeth.
*Soon,* they said. *Come when you’re ready to stop playing their weapon. Or we’ll come to you, and then you’ll have no choice but to burn.*
The stones around them cracked.
The dream shattered.
I woke with a strangled gasp, heart pounding, sweat cooling on my skin.
The room was dark, only a sliver of moonlight cutting through the window.
Ashra prowled restlessly, fur bristling.
*You felt it,* I said.
*Yes,* she growled. *Old voice. Young tongue. They are clumsy with power. Dangerous.*
“Do you think it was real?” I whispered.
*Real enough,* she said. *Dreams and stones talk. Especially to those stupid enough to listen.*
“Rude,” I muttered.
*True,* she replied.
I pushed hair from my damp forehead and swung my legs over the side of the bed.
The floor was cold under my feet.
Outside, the packhouse was mostly quiet.
A few low murmurs from warriors on late patrol. The distant clink of dishes from the night-shift omegas. The occasional snore from the rooms below.
I paced to the window and pressed my forehead to the cold glass.
The forest loomed, a darker shadow against the sky.
My fingers curled against the sill.
Ashra pressed up, her presence a warm weight in my chest.
*You are not alone,* she reminded me.
“I know,” I whispered. “That’s part of the problem.”
I felt Tiernan’s presence flicker at the edge of my awareness.
Not invasive.
Just…there.
An ember on the edge of vision.
Awake.
Alert.
As if he’d sensed my spike of fear and snapped to attention, even two floors away.
*He’s going to come banging on the door if you keep broadcasting like that,* Ashra said dryly.
“I’m not broadcasting,” I hissed. “I’m just…thinking loudly.”
She snorted. *Same difference.*
Right on cue, a soft knock sounded.
I closed my eyes.
“If that’s a murderous elemental, I’m not interested,” I muttered. “Try again tomorrow.”
“It’s me,” Tiernan’s voice came through the wood, low. “And if there *is* a murderous elemental, I’d very much like to be between you and it.”
Ashra preened. *See? He gets it.*
I padded over and cracked the door.
He stood in the corridor in loose pants and a thin shirt, bare feet silent on the stone. His hair was sleep-mussed, his eyes shadowed but sharp.
“Did I wake you?” I asked, guilt pricking.
“Not really,” he said. “I was…restless.”
Ashra snickered. *He’s been pacing like we have.*
He studied my face, taking in the sheen of sweat, the tension in my shoulders.
“Nightmare?” he asked softly.
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
“About…?” he prompted.
“Stones,” I said. “Fire. A…voice.”
His jaw clenched. “Can I…”
He gestured vaguely toward the inside of my room.
I stared.
“That was the most awkward way you could have asked to come in,” I said.
His mouth twitched. “I’m trying to be…respectful,” he said. “New concept. Bear with me.”
Despite the adrenaline still spiking my veins, a laugh bubbled up.
“Fine,” I said, stepping back. “Come in. No elementals hiding under the bed, I checked.”
He slipped inside, closing the door gently behind him.
The room felt suddenly smaller.
He moved to stand a few feet away, giving me space. His eyes flicked to the window, then back to me.
“Tell me,” he said.
I recounted the dream as best I could.
The blue fire.
The wrong eyes.
The words.
The invitation.
By the time I finished, his hands were fists at his sides.
“Damn,” he said quietly. “They’re bold.”
“Can dreams be…messages?” I asked. “Real ones. Not just my brain being dramatic.”
“Yes,” he said. “Especially around stones like those. Around wolves like us.”
I swallowed. “Us.”
“Elementals,” he clarified. “Stormbound. Fire-touched. Whatever label you like least.”
“Least,” I echoed faintly. “All of them.”
He smiled wryly. “Understandable.”
He moved to the desk chair and sat, elbows on his knees, posture loose but intent.
“Dream-contact is risky,” he said. “For both sides. It makes you vulnerable. Lets pieces of you slide along the bond. Whoever reached out either doesn’t know that…or doesn’t care.”
“Why would they risk it?” I asked.
“To test you,” he said. “See if you’re…receptive. If you’re angry enough to listen. Hurt enough to turn.”
Anger flared.
“At *you*?” I demanded. “At my pack? At the Goddess? Do they think I’m that…easily bought?”
“Yes,” Ashra said bluntly. *We do smell of old hurt.*
Tiernan’s gaze softened. “You’ve been treated like trash by wolves who should have known better,” he said. “You have every right to be angry. To want to burn it all down.”
“I don’t,” I said, heat prickling my eyes. “Not anymore. Not like that. I thought…I used to think if the packhouse burned it would serve them right. For what they did to my parents. To me. But then—” My voice broke. “Then I saw pups coughing in the smoke. Warriors dragging each other out. Omegas throwing soup at flames. And I…” I swallowed. “I couldn’t let them burn. Not even the ones who hurt me.”
His eyes shone, pride and sorrow tangled.
“That choice,” he said. “That’s why the voice wants you. And why they’ll be so frustrated when they realize you’re not as broken as they hope.”
Tears burned.
“I *am* broken,” I whispered. “They made sure of that. Eight years of being told I was nothing. Of being shoved into the shadows. Of watching wolves like Lyra snap towels at me while their fathers looked away.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “They broke pieces of you. So did my father when he chose a new bond over his old vows. So did every alpha who used an elemental as a weapon instead of a person. None of that is small.”
He shifted, leaning forward.
“But you’re also here,” he said. “In this room. With a wolf who woke up furious but still willing to stand in fire for others. With friends who’d walk into stupid stone circles with you. With me, whether you want me or not.”
Ashra purred. *We want him.*
I ignored her.
“You are not just what they did to you,” he said. “You are what you chose in spite of it. That…matters. That makes you more dangerous to them than any fire you can throw. Because you’ve seen both sides. You know what hate does. And you *still* chose mercy in that hall.”
My throat hurt.
“I didn’t do it for Rhys,” I said. “Or for Corin. Or Lyra. I did it for the pups. For Brenna. For Nana.”
He smiled faintly. “Exactly.”
Silence stretched.
He watched me.
I watched the scar on his jaw, the way his throat moved when he swallowed, the tension in his shoulders.
“You’re very good with speeches,” I said finally, voice rough.
“I’ve had practice,” he said. “Talking my own wolves down from ledges. Convincing myself not to throw my father off a cliff when he mutters about his dead mate.”
“I’m not your wolf,” I said quickly. “Don’t…do this because you think you have to. Because the bond says so.”
He shook his head. “I’m doing this because I care,” he said simply. “Because I’ve seen what happens when elementals are left alone with their hurt. They sink. Or they burn. Or they let voices like the one in your dream drag them into something worse.”
“Something worse?” I repeated.
“An army,” he said grimly. “Of wolves who only know pain and think the world owes them ash. Led by someone who thinks old prophecies are instruction manuals.”
I thought of the figure in the circle. Of their wrong eyes. Of the way their fire refused to catch on anything but stone.
“They weren’t…completely gone,” I said slowly. “Not feral. They…*chose* to talk to me. To tempt. That’s…scarier somehow.”
“Yes,” he said.
I hugged myself.
“What do we do?” I whispered.
“We tell Elyra,” he said. “And Rian. And Kellan. We document. We prepare. We watch your dreams. We ward your room better.”
Ashra snorted. *No ward stops a voice if the stone wants in.*
“Most importantly,” Tiernan said, ignoring her, “we remember who you are. So when they tell you you’re nothing but your power, you can call bullshit.”
I blinked. “Who am I, then?”
“Kaia Thorn,” he said, each syllable deliberate. “Daughter of Mira and Darin, who bled for a Luna who didn’t deserve their devotion but is trying very hard to earn yours now. Omega-raised. Warrior-trained. Stormbound. Stubborn. Kind to pups. Brutal with towels when annoyed.”
Despite everything, a laugh escaped. “That last one is all Brenna,” I said.
He smiled. “Point stands.”
He hesitated.
“I know you don’t trust easily,” he said. “Not alphas. Not the Goddess. Not any of this. I’m not asking you to suddenly…believe in destiny. Or in me. But I am asking you to let me stand between you and whatever the hell is whispering from those stones. Not because I’m your alpha. Not because of a bond. Because I want to.”
My chest ached.
Ashra was practically rolling on her back in delight. *Say yes,* she urged. *Say it.*
“I don’t know how,” I whispered. “To…let someone.”
He exhaled slowly. “That’s okay,” he said. “We can…practice. Little things. You tell me a nightmare. I sit in a stupid chair at two in the morning and say stupid speeches. You don’t kick me out. That’s step one.”
I huffed a laugh, tears prickling again.
“Step two?” I asked.
He hesitated.
“Letting me do this,” he said softly.
He reached out, very slowly, giving me every chance to pull back.
His knuckles brushed my cheek, rough skin gentle against my overheated face.
A spark jumped.
Not elemental.
Bond.
My breath hitched.
He cupped my jaw, thumb tracing the line just below my ear, where my pulse fluttered.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.
I should have said no.
Pushed his hand away.
Reminded both of us that I was not ready for…this.
Instead, I leaned—barely, but unmistakably—into his touch.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His eyes darkened.
Heat flared low in my belly.
Ashra purred. *Good. Very good.*
He didn’t move closer.
Didn’t crowd.
Didn’t use the angle to drag me forward.
He just held my face in his hand like it was something precious and breakable and waited.
My heart hammered.
The silence between us buzzed.
“We should—” I started.
“Yes,” he said at the same time.
We both laughed, the tension easing a notch.
“We should sleep,” I said.
“Yes,” he agreed. “And ward your dreams as best we can. I’ll ask Rian about old Stormwake tricks. He loves excuses to play with lullabies and herbs.”
“He’s weird,” I said fondly.
“He is,” Tiernan agreed.
His thumb brushed my cheek one more time.
Then, slowly, he let his hand fall.
The absence of his touch felt like pulling away from a fire after being too cold for too long.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For…being here. For not…pushing.”
He smiled, small and soft. “That’s the whole point,” he said. “I will never push you where you don’t want to go, Kaia. Not into battle. Not into bed. Not into trust. I’ll stand by and make very compelling arguments, of course,” he added, a glint in his eye. “But the step forward is always yours.”
Heat flushed my cheeks.
Ashra whistled appreciatively. *He said ‘bed.’ Interesting.*
“Good night, Tiernan,” I said quickly.
“Good night, Kaia,” he replied.
He slipped out, closing the door quietly behind him.
I stood in the dark, touching the place on my cheek where his hand had been.
Sleep didn’t come easily.
But when it did, no blue fire licked at my dreams.
Only the sound of distant thunder and the faint, steady warmth of a storm alpha curled metaphorically between me and the stones.
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