The moonlight filtered through the tall arched windows of her chamber, soft and silver, casting quiet shadows across the stone floor. Lara drifted into sleep with the memory of Thornak's gaze still warm in her mind, but what waited for her in her dreams was unlike anything she had ever known.
She stood beneath a sky of stars in a silver-lit forest, the moon hanging low and luminous above, casting everything in soft, ethereal light. The trees around her were ancient, massive trunks carved with symbols that pulsed faintly with silver fire. The wind whispered secrets through the leaves, but no branches moved. Time, it seemed, had stopped.
Lara took a step forward, barefoot on moss that glowed faintly beneath her feet. The forest didn't feel unfamiliar, it felt like a memory she had almost lost. Like coming home to a place she hadn't known she missed.
From the mist, a howl echoed, long, low, mournful. Then a shape emerged from the trees.
A massive white wolf, regal and silent, its fur rippling with light like water touched by moonfire. Eyes of molten gold met hers. They were fierce, ageless, and filled with a strange sorrow. Yet they were familiar.
"Nymeria," Lara whispered, though she didn't know how she knew the name.
The wolf dipped its head and padded closer. As it approached, stars swirled behind it, like the night sky bent to follow her. Lara's breath caught. This creature was not just a wolf. It was a piece of her. A guardian. A forgotten part of her soul.
When she reached out and touched its fur, warmth surged through her fingers not heat, but memory.
The world exploded in color and vision.
She was a child, wrapped in her mother's arms as thunder rolled overhead. "You are the last, Lara," her mother whispered, eyes full of pain and love. "You must live."
She saw her father standing at a burning doorway, shielding her from clawed shadows, blood on his face and power in his stance.
She saw hands raised in ritual, light pouring into her, and then, hidarkness slamming the door shut.
A voice boomed, not cruel, but ancient: The blood of the Moonguard must sleep until the time is right.
Then: screams. Snow. A trail of silver running from her fingertips as she was carried away.
The wolf stepped in front of her again, between her and a towering figure of shadows, red eyes gleaming from within its hood. But this time, Lara didn't flinch.
She stepped forward.
The wolf didn't growl, it howled. The sound cracked the earth and shattered the shadow like glass.
The forest began to glow. Every tree. Every stone. Her name echoed in the air like a chant.
Lara. Moonguard. Daughter of starlight. Keeper of flame.
And then, silence.
Somewhere deep inside her, something had awakened
Lara gasped awake, sitting upright in her bed, breath catching in her throat. Mira stirred lightly on her cot but did not wake. The room was quiet, the moon now low in the sky.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
It hadn't felt like a dream. It felt like a memory.
And the white wolf's eyes still burned in her mind.
The sun was just beginning to rise over Vargorath when a soft knock came at Lara's chamber door. Mira peeked in, smiling gently.
"My lady," she said. "The king has sent for you… It's regarding your family."
Lara's heart leapt.
She barely remembered pulling on the soft cloak Mira handed her or following the quiet halls Kael had shown her days before. Her thoughts raced, chest tight with hope and fear in equal measure. Were they safe? Had they been hurt? Had they been told what happened to her?
The guards parted silently as she approached the courtyard archway, the morning light pouring in like gold.
And there they were.
Her adoptive mother stood first, eyes wide and shining, hands trembling over her lips. Her father, strong and steady even now, looked like he'd aged a decade. And behind them "Liam!" she gasped.
Her little brother barreled into her with a cry, hugging her waist tightly, his face buried in her side.
Lara dropped to her knees, arms wrapping around him as she shook with quiet sobs. Her mother joined her a heartbeat later, then her father, and they all held each other like time had stopped.
"We didn't know what happened," her mother whispered, tears falling freely. "We thought we'd lost you."
"I'm okay," Lara whispered back. "I'm safe now."
Behind them, standing quietly near the edge of the courtyard, Thornak watched.
He didn't step forward, didn't interrupt. He simply stood there with his arms crossed, jaw tight but eyes soft, as if seeing something sacred.
Kael appeared beside him, glancing at the touching reunion with a small grin. "This looks cozy."
As Lara turned to speak with her mother, Thornak's gaze lingered on her for one more heartbeat. Then Kael nudged his shoulder, his voice low but urgent.
"They're waiting in the office, Scouts brought news. It's not good."
Thornak's jaw clenched. "Let's go."
He cast one last look toward Lara, her hair glowing in the morning sun, her arms wrapped around her family. A part of him wanted to stay, to watch her smile a little longer. But another part, the king, knew duty never waited.
Kael fell into step beside him as they moved quickly down the corridor. "It's not just rogue movement this time. There's evidence of another summoning."
Thornak's expression darkened. "Where?"
"Near the Shadowridge outpost. Same burn marks. Same scent of blood magic."
A growl rumbled in Thornak's chest. "He's getting bolder."
Kael's voice dropped. "What if he's not just summoning anymore? What if he's preparing something bigger?"
Thornak's eyes gleamed gold. "Then we remind him whose land he's desecrating."
Together, the brothers strode into the heart of the castle, leaving the warmth of reunion behind, for now.
....
Thornak paced the stone floor of his office, the firelight throwing sharp shadows across his face. His golden eyes burned with purpose, tension coiled tight in his frame. The moment Kael finished relaying the scouts' report, he turned sharply to Ruvan, who stood silent and ready by the arched window.
"Summon the council," Thornak ordered, his voice low but laced with steel. "I want everyone in that room before the sun sets."
Ruvan bowed his head. "At once, my King."
"And send a raven to the eastern mountains. Bring Ninzu."
Ruvan's brows rose slightly. "The sorceress?"
"Yes." Thornak's voice left no room for question. "If this truly is blood magic, I want her eyes on it. No one knows the old ways better than Ninzu."
Kael raised an eyebrow as Ruvan departed. "You think she'll come? She's not exactly… fond of thrones."
Thornak moved to the great table, staring down at the map marked with fresh warnings. "She'll come. She's bound by oath to Vargorath, and she won't let dark magic take root in our lands again."
Kael gave a low whistle. "Then the storm's really here, brother."
Thornak looked up, his face a mask of determination.
....
The Grand Council Chamber of Vargorath was a place carved from stone and legend. Its high ceilings vaulted like a cathedral, its walls etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with old power. A massive crescent-shaped table dominated the room, hewn from black obsidian and ringed with high-backed chairs reserved for those who governed the fate of the realm.
At the head stood King Thornak, clad in deep forest green and silver, a wolf sigil embossed across his chest. He did not sit. His presence alone filled the room with silent authority, rooted, imposing, watchful. There was a throne behind him.
To his right sat Queen Maravelle, regal and cold, her crimson gown flowing like blood over the seat. Beside her lounged her brother, Lord Edrion, an ever-smirking tactician whose words often cut deeper than steel. He said nothing, but his eyes flicked to every speaker, calculating.
The council included three leaders of the strongest werewolf clans:
Alpha Harkan of the Icefangs, whose hair and beard were as pale as snow, his presence unflinching and sharp as frostbite.
Alpha Veyra of the Stormclaws, fierce and impatient, her silver eyes flashing with the fury of thunderclouds.
Alpha Ren of the Bloodhowl, quiet and composed, his strength radiating in stillness rather than sound.
Across from them sat two human representatives.
Ambassador Thane, a polished diplomat with keen eyes and a sharp tongue, ever seeking the balance between peace and power and Lady Merel, a historian and seer, her layers of jewelry jingling softly whenever she shifted, her insight often shrouded in riddles.
Prince Kael leaned casually near the chamber doors, observing, relaxed in posture but alert in spirit. He gave Thornak a small nod of encouragement.
Tension coiled around the room like a waiting predator. Thornak finally spoke, his voice measured, unyielding.
He told them about all his observations including the missing lycans.
"...There were signs, ritual marks scorched into the earth, symbols drawn in blood, ruins still warm from recent use." His golden gaze swept across the council. "This was no random rogue attack. It was deliberate. Controlled."
The room shifted uncomfortably.
"Bring it in," Thornak said, his voice echoing in the chamber.
A guard stepped forward, carrying a cloth bundle wrapped in protective linen. He approached the table and slowly unfurled it in front of the council. Gasps followed.
"This was found near the western pass," Thornak said grimly. "Not just signs of struggle. Signs of summoning."
Lord Edrion leaned closer, frowning. "These markings… ancient. Older than the High Wars."
Lady Merel's voice was tight. "Blood magic."
Thornak nodded once. "Most likely. Someone is practicing forbidden rituals on our lands."
Queen Maravelle's lips pursed, her fingers tapping the arm of her chair. "And you only now bring this to council?"
"I brought it when I confirmed it was more than superstition," Thornak replied coldly.
Her brother, Lord Edrion, folded his arms. "We need answers quickly. If someone is summoning creatures on our borders, we could be facing more than just rogue wolves."
Thornak's jaw clenched. "I faced one of them. A man,or something like a man. Cloaked in gray, his voice filled with old power, his face hidden beneath a hood. He stepped out of the woods like he was waiting for me."
The room grew even stiller.
"He spoke as if he served something greater. Called himself the hand of a forgotten force, one that remembers what Lycans have let fade into myth. Then, without a step or sound, he vanished. Not ran, vanished."
Kael, standing at Thornak's side, added quietly, "We searched for him. Found nothing. No trail. No scent. Not even a footprint."
Thornak's voice dropped. "This wasn't a simple rogue or rebel. He was calm. Confident. He wanted me to know we're being watched, and tested."
The silence that followed was thick with unease.
Ambassador Thane, paled. "If what you saw was a shade-bound, or worse… a vessel of ancient sorcery… we could be facing a war older than any of us."
"We will have answers," Thornak said. "I've sent for the sorceress Ninzu. She'll arrive soon."
A hush fell.
"Ninzu?" Lady Merel asked. "The Silver Seer?"
Thornak nodded. "The same."
"She walks the line between what is seen and unseen," muttered Alpha Veyra. "If anyone can read those marks, it's her."