The scents hit me before I reached the main yard.
Smoke.
Fear.
Ash.
Ashra snarled in my head, a sound of pure fury. *Who dares bring *fire* into our home?*
Lights blazed from the packhouse windows, flickering erratically. Wolves shouted. The air crackled—not with the subtle, controlled sparks I’d been coaxing into the ground, but with wild, hungry heat.
I surged toward the main doors.
They burst open before I reached them.
A wave of hot air slammed into me, scorching my fur. I recoiled, eyes watering.
Tiernan stumbled out, half-shifted, his shirt singed, hair wild, eyes glowing ember-bright.
Relief and rage tangled in his scent.
“Kaia,” he rasped, spotting me. His gaze flicked over my massive bronze form, then sharpened. “Good. I need you.”
There was no time to dwell on the *need*.
He grabbed a passing omega by the arm—an older woman with soot streaking her face.
“Everyone out,” he barked. “Get them to the yard. Now.”
“Already moving them,” she panted. “The kitchen’s—”
“I know.” His jaw clenched. “Go.”
She ran.
I forced my paws to move, even as my instincts screamed at me to back away from the heat.
“Tiernan,” I sent through the bond, pushing past the static of adrenaline. “What happened?”
“Fire,” he shot back, mind-voice clipped. “In the main hall. Not natural. Smells…wrong.”
“Wrong how?” I demanded.
He met my eyes briefly.
“It smells like *you*,” he said.
Ice rippled under my skin, clashing with the external heat.
Before I could respond, Kellan thundered up with the trainees, shifting mid-stride back to human, eyes scanning.
“What—”
“Rogue magic,” Tiernan snapped. “Elemental. Someone lit half the tapestries in the hall with a spark that rode the beams. We contained it to the east wall, but the heat’s spreading. Elyra’s getting pups out from the second floor.”
“Rhys?” Kellan asked sharply.
“In the council chamber,” Tiernan said. “Trying to keep the other alphas from panicking and blaming each other. Or you.”
Kellan’s jaw flexed. “What do you need?”
Tiernan looked at me.
My heart raced.
“No,” I sent desperately. “I don’t—”
He stepped closer, ignoring the waves of heat rolling from the open door.
“Kaia,” he said aloud, his voice steady in a way his mind-voice wasn’t. “You feel it, don’t you? The pull.”
I did.
Ashra prowled under my skin, ears laid back, eyes fixed on the open maw of the hall.
*Fire,* she snarled. *Not ours. Wild. Hungry. *Wrong*.*
It called to us. Hot and seductive and terrible.
“I can’t control it,” I warned. “Not like this. Not in there.”
Tiernan’s eyes burned into mine.
“Maybe you can’t,” he said. “Yet. But you can *shape* it. Just enough. Long enough. To buy us time to get everyone out. To keep the beams from collapsing.”
Fear clawed up my throat.
“What if I make it worse?” I demanded. “What if I feed it?”
His hand clenched around something in his fist.
I glanced down.
An old iron ring, thick and worn, hung from a leather thong looped around his wrist. Carved into it, faint and shallow, were symbols that tickled at something in my newly-awakened senses.
Stormwake script.
Old magic.
Tiernan followed my gaze.
“Storm-bind,” he said shortly. “Family heirloom. It can ground an elemental surge in a pinch. It’s how we kept my father from bringing the mountain down when he…broke.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
“You trust that thing with *me*?” I asked.
“I trust *you*,” he said, and the words landed like a physical blow. “And I know we don’t have time to debate theology. The east wall is load-bearing. If it goes, the roof goes with it. Elyra and half the pups are still on the second floor. We need to keep the flames from climbing for as long as it takes to get them out.”
Ashra snarled, pacing.
*We cannot let them burn,* she hissed. *Not like our parents.*
My chest seized.
“Nana,” I choked. “Brenna.”
“I saw Brenna,” Tiernan said quickly. “She was in the kitchen. Already out. She was yelling at Rhys. Nana Lysa was on the porch. Eren too. They’re fine.” He swallowed. “For now.”
My legs trembled.
Fear warred with something else.
Anger.
At whomever lit this fire. At the Goddess. At the pack.
At myself, for being so scared when there were pups inside.
“You’re the only one who can do this,” Tiernan said quietly. “I can throw water and command and punches. I can’t tell fire where to burn. You can.”
I laughed, a short, desperate huff. “No pressure.”
“Constant pressure,” he corrected, managing a crooked half-smile. “It’s our thing.”
I stared into the heat-shimmering darkness of the hall.
Ashra leaned forward.
*We are storm and flame,* she said. *Fire is our cousin. Wild. Stupid. We can wrestle it. Or die trying.*
“Comforting,” I muttered.
*You wanted a normal wolf,* she added. *Sorry to disappoint.*
I swallowed hard.
“Fine,” I said aloud, legs wobbling. “But if I turn into a torch, you’d better not let them roast marshmallows on me.”
Tiernan’s eyes flashed with a brief, fierce joy. “That’s my girl.”
The phrase did something stupid to my chest.
“No time to be sappy,” I snapped. “Move. Before I change my mind.”
He nodded once, all business again.
“Kellan!” he shouted. “You and the trainees form a line from the well to the hall. Buckets. Blankets. Keep the door edges and floor wet. Don’t let embers bite into the planks.”
Kellan barked orders. Wolves scrambled.
“Kaia.” Tiernan met my gaze one last time. “Stay with Ashra. Don’t chase the fire. Redirect. Think…walls. Channels. If you feel yourself losing it, reach for me. I’ll hit you with the bind.”
“Got it,” I said, though my insides screamed.
He squeezed my shoulder once, hard, then turned and plunged back into the hall.
I snarled, gathered my courage, and followed.
***
The heat hit like a physical force.
Even through Ashra’s fur, it scorched. Smoke clawed at my throat. The air was thick, heavy with the stench of burning wood, scorched fabric, hot metal.
I squinted through the haze.
The main hall was a nightmare.
Flames licked up the east wall, devouring tapestries. Smoke billowed along the ceiling beams, searching for a way up. Sparks rained down like malicious stars.
Wolves rushed back and forth, some in human form, others half-shifted, their thickened skin offering some protection.
Luna Elyra stood near the base of the staircase, hair unbound and wild, eyes glowing silver-white as she herded a cluster of coughing pups toward the open door. A shield of shimmering light flickered around them, deflecting some of the falling embers.
Tiernan moved like a dark blur along the flaming wall, ripping down burning banners, tossing them aside before they could act as ladders for the fire.
“Upstairs!” a voice screamed from above. “We need help!”
My gaze snapped up.
Flames were licking along the railing of the second-floor balcony. A beam had fallen, half-blocking the corridor. Beyond it, shadows moved—pups, omegas, a warrior with a limp.
My heart stuttered.
Ashra snarled. *Move.*
I sprinted forward, weaving around fallen debris, ignoring the way my fur sizzled where embers landed.
The east wall glowed red-hot in places.
Heat radiated off it like an open oven door.
The fire rode up it in tongues—licking, tasting, eager.
Drawn to the beams.
Drawn to the ceiling.
Drawn to the second floor.
Drawn…to me.
I felt it.
A thousand tiny hooks snagging at my fur, at my skin, at my wolf. The flames *recognized* something in me. Kinship. Opposition. Both.
*Careful,* Ashra warned. *It wants to wear us.*
“Not today,” I snarled aloud.
I planted my paws as close to the wall as I dared, sucking in a smoky breath.
“Okay,” I thought frantically. “Okay, what now?”
*You’ve done this before,* Ashra said, surprisingly calm. *In the yard. With lightning. We’re not stopping the storm. We’re giving it a safer path.*
“Safer,” I repeated weakly, staring at the roiling flames. “Right.”
*Feel,* she commanded. *Beneath the roar. There’s always a pattern.*
I forced my eyes half-closed.
The fire…shifted in my awareness.
It wasn’t just chaotic tongues of heat anymore.
It was…currents.
Streams.
It moved along invisible paths—up dry tapestries, along old cracks in the wood, toward pockets of air.
“I see it,” I whispered.
*Good. Now…shape.*
I reached with the sense Tiernan had coaxed into being in the training yard.
Not into the earth this time.
Into the flames.
They recoiled.
Not with fear.
With anger.
Heat slammed against my mental touch.
“Goddess,” I gasped.
*Steady,* Ashra said, teeth bared. *We are storm. We do not bow to campfires.*
I snarled.
My awareness pressed again.
The fire pushed back.
My fur singed.
Pain lanced along my sides, but I anchored myself to the feeling of the earth’s slow pulse beneath the stone floor. To the steady, stubborn presence of Tiernan at my back.
“Kaia!” he shouted over the crackle. “Talk to me!”
I didn’t dare look away from the wall.
“I’m…here,” I rasped. “Trying not to…become a candle.”
“Good,” he said, oddly calm. “Hold. Elyra’s almost done upstairs. Just need a few more—”
A beam groaned.
We all froze.
Glowing with heat, blackened, its edges eaten by flame, the massive wooden support that ran diagonally over the east corner shuddered.
Then snapped.
It fell in horrible slow motion, aim straight for the cluster of wolves on the second-floor landing.
I didn’t think.
I *leapt*.
Ashra roared.
We threw everything outward.
Not at the beam.
At the fire *eating* it.
For one terrifying instant, the flames surged.
Then they…froze.
Not completely.
They slowed.
The tongues that had been licking eagerly at the beam’s sides faltered. Their edges flickered, their heat…redirected.
Away from the heart of the wood.
Down, toward the already-burning section of wall.
The beam, deprived of the extra bite that would have turned it to ash mid-air, fell heavier, more solid.
And hit the ground in front of me with a teeth-rattling crash instead of shattering above the landing.
Burning chips flew.
One sliced my muzzle.
I barely felt it.
Ashra howled in triumph. *Ha! Sit, flame!*
My legs wobbled.
Tiernan was suddenly at my side, one hand on my neck, the other thrusting that iron ring toward the floor.
He slammed it down.
The air…shifted.
The wild, hungry heat pressing against my fur met an invisible net.
It hissed.
The binding ring glowed faintly, old symbols flaring.
“Good girl,” he panted. “Good. Just a little longer. Elyra!”
“Last ones!” the Luna shouted from above. “Get that beam out of the way—”
Wolves rushed to haul the fallen timber aside, forming a narrow path.
Pups scrambled through, coughing and crying, guided by omegas with wet cloths over their faces.
I held.
Sweat—or maybe melted snow—dripped down my sides.
My vision swam.
The flames bucked and snarled under my mental grip, furious at being corralled. It was like holding back a river with my bare paws.
“You’ve got this,” Tiernan murmured, his voice a thread of sound. “Just a little more. You’re stronger than it. You hear me, stormheart? *Stronger.*”
His hand on my neck was the only thing keeping me upright.
Ashra snarled, digging in.
*We will not let them burn,* she vowed.
I bore down.
The last pup tumbled onto the stairs and into Elyra’s arms.
“Out!” the Luna commanded. “Everyone out. Now.”
Wolves obeyed.
Tiernan didn’t move.
“Go,” I rasped. “You—”
“Not leaving you,” he said flatly. “Don’t insult me.”
Kellan appeared at the door, soot-streaked and wild-eyed.
“Voss!” he bellowed. “Time’s up. The roof’s going to go.”
Tiernan’s jaw clenched.
He looked at me.
I bared my teeth in a wolfish grin.
“Run,” I said mentally. “Take the others. Ashra and I will…keep it busy.”
His eyes went molten. “Absolutely not.”
“Tiernan,” I snapped. “I am not…losing…more family…because some alpha wouldn’t move his ass.”
The word *family* caught him.
It caught *me*.
We stared at each other.
In that moment, with smoke stinging my eyes and heat licking my fur, with wolves screaming and beams groaning, the bond between us pulsed brighter than the flames.
Pain.
Fear.
Stubbornness.
Love.
Not the soft, sweet love of storybooks.
The harsh, desperate love of a man who’d watched his mother bleed and a girl who’d watched her parents die and both of whom refused to repeat the pattern.
Tiernan’s throat worked.
“Fine,” he said, voice rough. “But I’m not going far.”
He seized the binding ring, yanked it up, and slammed it down again two feet closer to the blazing wall, tightening the net.
Heat flared.
Fire screamed—at least, that’s what it felt like.
Then he ran, shouting orders, herding wolves, dragging a dazed warrior out from under a fallen candelabra.
Kellan cursed, hesitated, then followed, pulling stragglers with him.
I was alone with the fire.
And Ashra.
*Just you and me, cousin,* she growled at the flames. *Dance with me.*
We did.
For a heartbeat, for a lifetime, I lost myself in the push and pull.
The fire wanted up.
It wanted beams.
It wanted thatched roof and open air and stars.
I held it.
I couldn’t stop it eating what it had already claimed. Charred wood crumbled, tapestries fluttered to ash. But I could…tilt. Nudge. Redirect.
Away from the dried-out pillars.
Away from the staircase.
Down, down, into the already-burning pile at the base of the wall, where Kellan and the other wolves soaked it with water and smothered it with wet blankets.
My legs shook.
My lungs burned.
My fur smoked in places.
Ashra snarled, forcing our muscles to lock when they wanted to crumple.
*Don’t you dare fall,* she snapped. *Not yet. Not while pups still cry outside. Not while Nana still breathes. Not while that stubborn alpha is out there pretending he doesn’t care if we live or die.*
“He cares,” I gasped, dizzy. “Too much.”
*Then make it worth it,* she growled.
I did.
Until, suddenly, the pressure changed.
Less.
Not gone.
But…diminished.
The fire had eaten its fill and found no new ladders. The beams above were blackened but mostly intact. The wall, though charred, still stood.
Cold air rushed in from broken windows and the open door, making the flames gutter.
Hands—human, warm, strong—grabbed my shoulders.
“Enough,” Tiernan panted. “Let it go, Kaia. We’ve got it.”
I blinked, stunned.
Kellan and three other warriors stood in a line along the base of the wall, dousing the last stubborn tongues with water and sand. Elyra, face streaked with soot, lifted her arms, and a shimmering wave of cool, blue-white light washed over the charred wood, dampening embers.
The fire…reluctantly…died.
I let go.
The sudden absence of resistance made me stumble.
Tiernan wrapped his arms around my neck, bracing me.
“Shift,” he said urgently. “Before you pass out and crack your skull.”
I did.
The world folded.
Heat and fur and ash shrank.
When I opened my eyes, I was on my back on the filthy, sooty floor, Tiernan kneeling over me, his face tight with worry.
I coughed, hacking up smoke.
His palms smoothed over my hair, my soot-streaked cheeks.
“Breathe,” he murmured. “You stubborn, reckless, *brilliant* girl. Breathe.”
I did.
In.
Out.
The air tasted like burnt wood and adrenaline.
My entire body throbbed.
But I was alive.
And so, from the sounds outside—sobs, coughs, shaky laughs—were most of the pack.
Tears welled, hot and cutting.
“Did it work?” I croaked. “Did we…save it?”
“Most of it,” Elyra said, appearing at my side.
She looked…awful.
Hair wild, face blackened, eyes bloodshot. But she was standing.
She sank to her knees opposite Tiernan, her hand hovering over my shoulder, not quite touching.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You held it long enough.”
I blinked up at her, throat tight.
“I couldn’t…let them…burn,” I said, voice rasping.
“I know,” she said. “I know, little wolf.”
Tears streaked clean lines through the soot on her cheeks.
“Get her out,” Kellan barked hoarsely from the doorway. “Before the rest of the ceiling decides to join us.”
Tiernan scooped me up.
I made an undignified squeaking noise as the world tilted.
“I can walk,” I complained weakly.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I’m not wagering your legs on your pride right now.”
I was too exhausted to argue.
I let my head loll against his chest, listening to his heart thud under my ear.
Outside, the cold slapped my overheated skin.
Wolves crowded the yard, huddled in blankets, coughing, shaking. Pups cried. Omegas moved among them with water and cloths. Rhys stood near the edges, jaw clenched, eyes scanning, talking quietly to a cluster of other alphas.
Conversations faltered as Tiernan carried me out.
A hush fell.
I wanted to sink into the ground.
Tiernan seemed oblivious.
He strode to a relatively clear patch of snow, knelt, and laid me down gently, his shirt shrugging off his shoulders in the process.
I stared at the sky.
It was dark, scattered with stars.
Smoke curled up to meet them.
“You’re a sight,” Nana Lysa’s voice wheezed.
I turned my head.
She stood on the other side of me, leaning heavily on her stick, blanket around her shoulders, eyes bright and wet.
“So are you,” I rasped. “Thought you didn’t like fire.”
“I don’t,” she snapped. “Which is why I’m glad you got between it and my old bones, foolish girl.”
“Is everyone…” I coughed. “Okay?”
“Some burns. Smoke inhalation. A broken arm. No deaths,” Tiernan said, voice rough. “Thanks to you. And Elyra. And Kellan’s line of half-frozen warriors with buckets.”
“And Head Cook throwing soup on the tapestry,” Brenna added, appearing with a mug of water. “He’s very proud. Says he always knew soup would save the day.”
I laughed weakly.
It hurt.
“Drink,” Brenna ordered, shoving the mug into my trembling hands.
I obeyed.
The water was cool and tasted faintly of smoke and iron.
My hands shook so hard I spilled some.
Tiernan steadied the cup.
His fingers brushed mine.
Our gazes met.
For a moment, the yard, the pack, the smoke, all of it faded.
There was just him.
And me.
And the throbbing, bright thread between us.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he said quietly.
“You too,” I croaked. “Running into a burning hall like that. Idiot.”
He huffed. “Pot, meet kettle.”
Ashra stirred, curling around my battered consciousness.
*He is ours,* she murmured sleepily. *Only an idiot would throw himself into fire for a wolf he met yesterday. We like him.*
*We do,* I admitted, too tired to lie to my own soul.
Fear flickered.
Not of him.
Of how much I could lose.
He must have felt something of that through the bond.
His thumb rubbed a small, soothing circle on the back of my hand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Not burned. Not broken. Not turned away. You’re stuck with me, stormheart.”
My throat closed.
I squeezed his hand back, just once.
Then, finally, mercifully, I let exhaustion drag me under.
This time, as I fell, Ashra caught me.
And beneath us both, warm and solid and unyielding, was the steady presence of a man who’d walked into my fire and refused to flinch.## Chapter 5: A Wolf With My Name
The first thing I noticed was the warmth.
Not the scratchy, too-thin blanket, or the extra pillow someone had shoved under my head, or the soft weight of a second quilt across my legs. Under all that, there was a different heat, low and steady, coiled somewhere behind my ribs.
*Finally awake,* a dry, feminine voice said inside my head. *I was starting to think you’d managed to sleep through a metaphysical awakening. Impressive, even for you.*
My eyes flew open.
The ceiling over the infirmary cot was the same rough gray stone as before. The tiny window near the rafters spilled a thin blade of morning light across the floor. The air smelled of herbs, alcohol, and faintly of smoke from last night’s fires.
But the warmth inside me was new.
Real.
Alive.
*You—you’re—* I thought, then realized I had no idea how to think at someone who was…inside me.
The voice snorted. *You don’t have to shout. I’m right here.*
I pushed up on my elbows, heart pounding.
Pain flared—a deep, whole-body ache—but it was bearable. My muscles felt as if I’d run for hours and then been used as a training dummy.
The thin curtain at the end of the row of cots twitched. A familiar mass of curls shoved through.
“Kaia?” Brenna hissed. “Are you awake? Please be awake. If you died in your sleep after all that drama I’ll kill you.”
“I’m not dead,” I croaked, my voice rough.
She let out a wobbly noise that was half-sob, half-laugh, and launched herself at me.
“Careful,” I yelped as pain zinged through my ribs.
She froze, then settled for a careful squeeze around my shoulders, her eyes shining and red-rimmed.
“You idiot,” she whispered fiercely. “You absolute idiot. You shifted in front of the whole damn pack. Then you fried the *yard*. Then you face-planted in the dirt like a dropped loaf. I thought they were going to declare a day of mourning for the omegas’ favorite disaster.”
“Disaster omega,” I muttered. “That’s me.”
Something like amusement curled in the back of my mind.
*I like her,* the internal voice observed. *Loud. Loyal. Would bite an alpha for you.*
*Who…are you?* I thought, more deliberately this time.
Brenna pulled back, frowning. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“The face,” she said, mimicking a furrowed brow and unfocused stare. “Like you’re arguing with someone who isn’t actually here.”
“Oh.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Right. That’s…my wolf.”
Brenna’s eyes went huge. “Your wolf.”
“Yes.”
“You *hear* her?” she breathed.
“Yes,” I said again, a little overwhelmed by the way her awe hammered every word with significance. “She’s—”
*Amazing,* the wolf cut in smugly. *Gorgeous. Powerful. Hungry. In need of a bath.*
“—a menace,” I finished.
“Rude,” the voice huffed.
Brenna pressed a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking. “You just…called your own wolf a menace.”
“She started it,” I said.
“I did not,” she protested. *I merely observed the obvious. You, Kaia Thorn, are a chaos magnet.*
My chest clenched.
“You…sound like me,” I whispered.
“I *am* you,” she replied. *Well. The improved model.*
Brenna’s gaze ping-ponged between my face and the empty air. “Can I…say hi? Or is that weird?”
“You’re asking if it’s weird,” I said. “That’s already weird.”
“Please,” she wheedled.
*Tell her I accept mortal worship,* the wolf said. *And snacks.*
I rolled my eyes.
“Her name’s Ashra,” I said, feeling ridiculous and strangely shy. “She, uh, says hi. And that she likes you.”
Brenna clasped her hands dramatically. “The ancient storm wolf likes me. I’ll never shut up about this.”
Ashra preened. *Ancient. I like her more every second.*
“Don’t encourage her,” I muttered under my breath.
The curtain twitched again. A lean woman in healer’s whites—Miri, the senior healer—stepped in, brows drawing together when she saw me upright.
“You shouldn’t be sitting yet,” she scolded, striding over. “You’re lucky your muscles held together at all with the way you shifted. And the way you—” She broke off, mouth flattening.
“The way I…what?” I asked.
She hesitated. “Held the surge,” she said quietly. “In the yard. When you…everyone felt it. Like a pressure in the head.”
“We were miles away,” Brenna said. “I was in the laundry room. The soap bubbles *stopped* for a second.”
Miri’s fingers were firm but gentle as she pressed along my ribs, my shoulders, my arms. “Any numbness? Tingling? Sharp pains?”
“Everything hurts,” I admitted. “But equally.”
“Good.” She nodded briskly. “That means you didn’t tear anything permanent. The Luna wants you mobile today, but not foolish. You’ll take these—” she pressed two small vials of pale blue liquid into my hand “—morning and night. For inflammation. And you will drink twice as much water as you think you need.”
“Orders, orders,” I muttered. “You and Tiernan must be related.”
Miri’s mouth twitched. “I’m not sure how I feel about being compared to an alpha. But I’ll take it as you saying I’m bossy and competent.”
“That’s exactly what I meant,” I said solemnly.
Her gaze softened. “You did well, Kaia,” she said. “Yesterday. In the yard. In the hall.”
A knot tightened in my stomach. “I…barely remember the hall.”
Images flickered: fire roaring up the wall, the weight of a beam in the air, Tiernan’s voice in my ear, Ashra roaring inside my head.
Brenna shuddered. “We’re still scrubbing soot out of the floorboards.”
“The important part is,” Miri said firmly, “no one died.”
The words hit like a kick.
No one died.
For eight years, that night in the snow had been the last chapter in every story I told myself about my parents. It ended with blood on the ground and sheets over their faces.
This one ended with soot. With burned tapestries and bruises and pain.
And survivors.
All because…
*Because we refused to let them burn,* Ashra said quietly.
My throat closed.
“Hey.” Brenna bumped my shoulder. “Don’t go misty on me. I don’t know how to deal with sincere.”
“Shut up,” I said hoarsely.
Miri straightened. “The Luna asked that when you wake, you go to the training wing,” she said. “Your new room is ready.”
Brenna inhaled sharply. “They’re really moving you?”
Miri’s expression flickered. “Yes,” she said. “As of today, you are under Gamma Kellan’s and Alpha Voss’s joint supervision for training. That means quarters with the warriors.”
My insides twisted.
Leaving the omega dorms had sounded…abstract last night. Far away. Now it was real.
Real walls.
Real distance.
Real change.
“Do I get a say?” I asked.
Miri spread her hands. “They won’t drag you,” she said. “You’re free to refuse. But if you do, they’ll post guards at the omega wing doors at night. Not to keep you in. To keep others out.”
Others.
Fear prickled my nape.
“They think someone might…come after me?” I asked slowly.
Brenna growled under her breath. “Let them try.”
Miri’s gaze slid to the thin scar on my wrist where, two winters ago, a warrior’s son had grabbed me too hard with claws half-out. “You’ve always been a…target,” she said carefully. “Some will resent your change in status. Others will…fear it. Alpha Rhys believes it’s safer to move you now. To where the warriors sleep. Near the training yard. Fewer shadows there.”
Ashra bristled. *Let them come. We can burn their shadows.*
*That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,* I shot back.
I swallowed. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go.”
Brenna’s hand shot out, wrapping around mine. “We’re not losing you,” she said fiercely. “You hear me? I don’t care what wing your bed is in. You’re *ours*.”
The word cracked something in my chest.
I squeezed back. “Yours,” I echoed.
Brenna sniffed suspiciously. “Ugh. Feelings. I hate this.”
Miri smiled faintly. “You can pack later,” she said. “For now, go see your new space. Then report to the yard at midday. Tiernan said he’d start with…light work.”
My muscles whimpered at the idea of any work.
“All right,” I said.
Brenna helped me swing my legs over the side of the cot. The stone floor was cold under my bare feet, but the simple act of standing—of not folding into a pile of tremors—felt like a victory.
*We did not break,* Ashra murmured. *We bent. That’s the point.*
“Let’s go see our glorified broom closet,” I said out loud.
Brenna elbowed me. “With a window, Kaia. A *window*.”
As we stepped into the corridor, wolves passing by fell silent, eyes drawn to me.
Some looked relieved.
Some wary.
Some openly hostile.
My shoulders tensed.
I forced myself to keep my head up, even as habit whispered *bow, duck, apologize*.
Tiernan’s voice echoed in memory: *You bowed even when they didn’t deserve it. That was then. This is now.*
“Don’t shrink,” Ashra said. *Stretch.*
So I did.
Just a little. Enough to roll my shoulders back and meet the first pair of shocked eyes without flinching.
The warrior whose boots I’d scrubbed a week ago blinked, then jerked his gaze away, suddenly unsure what to do with the girl he’d called wolfless.
Good.
Let them be the ones who didn’t know where to look for once.
***
The training wing felt like a different world.
The ceilings were higher. The corridors wider. The stone floor worn smooth by decades of boots and paws. Weapons racks lined sections of wall—practice swords, staffs, spears all carefully stowed.
It smelled of sweat, leather, oil, and old wood. No cabbage. No laundry steam.
Eren leaned against the wall near a stairwell, fidgeting with a loose thread on his shirt.
He straightened when he saw me. “You’re up,” he blurted.
“You alive,” I countered.
“I only passed out once,” he said proudly. “Kellan said I could sit for five minutes.”
“Generous.”
“Don’t mock,” he said. “He never lets anyone sit. I feel honored.”
Brenna snorted. “Boys are weird.”
He grinned. “You’re just jealous you don’t get yelled at for a living.”
“I get yelled at plenty,” she said. “I just don’t pretend it’s an honor.”
I let their bickering wash over me as I climbed the last set of stairs.
Second door on the right.
My hand hovered over the handle.
“Go on,” Brenna urged. “Open it before I do. I won’t have the same level of reverence.”
I took a breath I didn’t quite need and pushed the door open.
Sunlight spilled over us.
The room wasn’t big.
But compared to a narrow bunk squeezed between seven others, it felt enormous.
A narrow bed against the far wall. A small wardrobe. A chest at the foot of the bed. A rough wooden desk under a wide window that took up nearly the whole outer wall.
The view punched the air from my lungs.
Trees.
Endless pines, dark and swaying, marching in ranks toward a distant ribbon of silver—the river. Beyond them, the faint blue-gray teeth of the mountains.
The sky was startlingly clear, pale blue streaked with thin clouds.
“It’s…beautiful,” I whispered.
Ashra pressed up under my skin, equally stunned. *We can see the forest without smelling chamber pots. Progress.*
Brenna let out a low whistle. “Fancy. Look at all this *space*.”
Eren trailed in behind us, eyes wide. “Your own desk,” he observed. “Not shared with ten people.”
I ran my fingers along its rough surface.
My own desk.
My own bed.
My own…door I could close.
“I feel like if I touch anything, it’ll disappear,” I admitted.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brenna said. “They’d never waste this much wood on a dream.”
“Not helping,” I muttered.
Eren poked the mattress. “Softer than ours,” he said enviously. “Figures.”
“Don’t get too attached,” I said. “They might come to their senses and shove me back in the laundry closet.”
Brenna’s eyes flashed. “Over my dead body.”
Emotion surged in my chest.
I swallowed it down.
“This doesn’t change anything,” I said roughly. “Where I sleep. Who my stupid wolf thinks smells nice. You’re still…you. I’m still me.”
“You’re you,” Eren agreed. “With a seven-foot wolf and lightning in your fur.”
“Minor upgrade,” Brenna said breezily.
Ashra purred. *Excellent marketing.*
I sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight.
Tiredness washed over me again, bone-deep.
Eren fidgeted. “We should let you rest,” he said reluctantly. “Kellan will gut me if you show up to training and collapse.”
“Kellan can try,” Brenna muttered.
“He can definitely succeed,” Eren said. “You’ve never seen him with a practice spear.”
They bickered all the way to the door.
“Come get me,” Brenna said, jabbing a finger at me, “if you need help moving things. Or if they try to make you eat with the ranked wolves. Or if your overgrown mate tries anything funny.”
“Brenna,” I hissed, mortified.
“What?” she said. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
“Everyone needs a new hobby.”
She smirked. “Too late.”
Eren hesitated at the threshold. “Kaia,” he said quietly. “If you…want someone around tonight. So it doesn’t feel so…empty. I can sleep on the floor.”
Words tangled in my throat.
I wanted to say *yes*.
To cling to the familiar.
To push back the yawning feeling that I was being cut free and shoved into open sky, expected to either fly or plummet.
But Nana’s voice echoed in my memory: *Your job is to survive this. To learn. To decide.*
Survival meant change.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “But I think…Ashra will yell at me if I don’t figure out how to be in my own head without backup.”
*Accurate,* Ashra said.
Eren nodded slowly. “Okay. But I’m one floor down. Yell if you need me.”
“I always need you,” I said, attempting lightness. “Who else is going to trip over my paws?”
He cracked a crooked smile, then slipped out, Brenna making an exaggerated *I’m watching you* gesture at the door before following.
Silence dropped.
It was…loud.
I stood and wandered to the window, pressing my palms to the cold glass.
The forest stretched, endless, indifferent. The wind rippled the treetops. Somewhere, a hawk wheeled.
“We’re really here,” I whispered.
Ashra nudged me from the inside, warm and strong. *We are. And for once, it feels like we’re not standing at the back of a crowd, does it?*
“No,” I admitted. “It feels like…standing on a cliff.”
She laughed softly. *Well. We are stormborn. Cliffs are our home.*
I watched the trees a moment longer.
Then, slowly, I unfastened the thin cord Nana had given me and retied it more securely around my wrist, the carved beads—paw and arrow—pressing gently against my skin.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “New room. New wolf. New alpha breathing down my neck. Let’s see what else the Goddess throws at us.”
Ashra’s answering hum vibrated through my bones.
*Bring it,* she replied.
---