The glass had barely finished falling when Aiden burst into the room, his instincts surging. The scent of old magic still clung to the air—sharp, metallic, like storm-charged ozone. Elara stood frozen at the center, uninjured, but her pupils were now ringed with silver light.
She looked at him, dazed.
"I remembered my name," she whispered.
Aiden's gaze dropped to the glittering shards at her feet. "And the window shattered the moment you said it?"
She nodded slowly, still breathless. "It felt like... something inside me cracked open."
"Elara," he repeated, tasting the name on his tongue.
The name struck something deep within his wolf—something buried. It wasn't just a name. It was a key.
He crossed to her, slowly, cautiously. "There's power in names. Old power. Especially when they've been bound."
"Bound?" she echoed.
"You said someone wiped your memory. If your name was sealed, speaking it might have broken part of the spell."
"I didn't mean to," she murmured, her voice trembling. "It just came to me."
"Then you're not ready for what's coming," Aiden said grimly. "Because whoever sealed you is going to know it just broke."
In the lower chambers of Blackmoon Hold, the Elders had gathered.
The circular stone hall was dimly lit, flickering candlelight casting long shadows on ancient carvings etched into the walls. Aiden stood at the center, arms crossed, jaw clenched.
Elder Thorne, thin and hawk-eyed, paced slowly before the council stone. "You bring a stranger—wounded, unknown, untested—into the sacred heart of our territory."
"She was hunted by shadow wolves," Aiden snapped. "She survived them. She's not a threat—she's a warning."
Elder Mirella, the oldest among them, tilted her head. "A warning of what?"
Aiden glanced at the closed door behind which Elara was waiting. "Of what's coming."
"And you claim she is your mate?"
"I don't claim. I know."
The council erupted in whispers.
Thorne's lips thinned. "This is madness. The last time a non-wolf was bonded to an Alpha, the Shadow War began."
"And this time," Aiden growled, "we may not live long enough to start a war if we ignore the signs."
Mirella's cloudy eyes narrowed. "What signs?"
Aiden looked each Elder in the eye. "The seals. The shadow wolves. The broken wardstones on the edge of our territory. And now Elara remembers her name—and shatters glass just by speaking it."
That got their attention.
Mirella leaned forward. "What name did she say?"
"Elara."
The elder froze.
Thorne's voice was a rasp. "That name hasn't been heard in centuries."
Mirella's hands trembled. "Elara was the daughter of Selene's last Oracle."
Aiden frowned. "Oracle?"
"The moon goddess once had a voice among mortals," Mirella whispered. "A woman who could see both the past and the future. The last Oracle vanished with her child during the final eclipse. Rumor said the child had power enough to end bloodlines."
Aiden's heart thudded. "And if this girl is that child?"
"Then your mate is the most dangerous being alive," Mirella said softly.
Meanwhile, Elara paced the healer's wing, every step stirring the energy rising in her chest like a slow-building storm.
Her name had unlocked something—but not just memory. Power. It buzzed beneath her skin, sometimes flaring through her fingers. She'd tried to focus it, to call it forth like she did in the forest... but it wasn't listening. It was wild. Chaotic.
She paused by the silver basin again, staring into her reflection.
Her eyes glowed faintly—just a sliver of moonlight—but it was enough.
That wasn't human.
She wasn't human.
Then what am I?
Suddenly, a low knock on the wall behind her broke her thoughts.
She turned—and found a young girl standing in the doorway. Maybe ten or eleven years old, pale hair braided down her back, a strange sharpness in her gaze.
"You're her," the girl said.
Elara blinked. "I... I don't know who I am yet."
The child stepped closer, cocking her head. "Yes, you do. You said your name. That's when the wind changed."
"What's your name?"
"Lyra," the girl answered. "My mom says names are spells."
Elara knelt slowly. "Does your mom know a lot about spells?"
"She's one of the seers."
Seers. So Blackmoon still had a few with the gift.
"Do you see anything when you look at me?" Elara asked softly.
The girl stared into her eyes for a long moment, unblinking.
Then: "I see a storm... with teeth."
Elsewhere, beyond the Blackmoon borders...
The woman in black stood at the edge of a cliff, her eyes trained on the glowing barrier that shimmered faintly across the valley.
"She's inside," she hissed.
Behind her, a figure stepped from the trees.
A tall man, cloaked in crimson shadow, his eyes hollow, his voice like broken glass. "You said the seal would last until the Solstice."
"I underestimated the bond," she spat. "The wolf woke her early."
"Then we strike before she fully remembers."
The woman opened her hand, revealing a small, glowing vial. Inside, a single drop of silver blood pulsed.
"She may have the Oracle's gift... but we have her blood."
Back in the Hold, Aiden stormed down the corridor toward Elara's chamber.
Too many unanswered questions. Too many dangers outside these walls.
He rounded the corner—
—and stopped cold.
The door to her room was wide open.
And she was gone.
Far beneath the fortress, in chambers even most wolves had forgotten, Elara moved in a trance.
She hadn't meant to come here.
Something had pulled her—like a thread tugging at her soul, guiding her deeper, past old stone stairs and carvings etched with moon symbols older than written history.
Torches flickered to life as she passed, one by one, though she never touched them.
The magic was alive here.
It recognized her.
At the bottom of the stairwell was a circular room, the air dense with power. In the center stood a pool of water so still it reflected the ceiling perfectly.
Elara stepped forward, heart pounding.
As she neared the water's edge, she heard it—
A whisper.
"Elara..."
Her name echoed in the silence.
She dropped to her knees before the pool, and the moment her fingers touched the surface—
Visions slammed into her.
Fire.
Wolves torn apart.
A man in black dragged her mother away.
A silver crown falling from a bloodstained altar.
A voice—her mother's voice—Run, Elara. Don't let them find you.
Elara jerked back, gasping.
Her hands were glowing now—bright silver flames dancing across her palms. The power was no longer sleeping.
It was awake.
And it was hungry.
Aiden found her minutes later, kneeling at the edge of the water.
"Elara!" he rushed to her.
She looked up, her eyes brighter than ever, her skin glowing with light.
"I remember," she whispered.
Aiden knelt beside her. "What do you remember?"
"They killed her. My mother. She was trying to hide me. She bound my power with her last breath."
Aiden's heart twisted. "Who killed her?"
Elara's gaze turned hard, furious. "The Crimson Order."
Aiden's blood ran cold. "They were wiped out. Generations ago."
"No," she said darkly. "They just went underground. And now... they're coming back."