Chapter 88

Isla POV

The rain began before dawn soft at first, more like a whisper than a storm. It brushed against the windows, threading through the silence of the packhouse, gentle but unrelenting. The kind of rain that made the world feel paused, suspended between something ending and something not yet begun.

I sat by the window, knees pulled to my chest, a blanket draped around my shoulders. I hadn’t slept. Again. The scent of wet pine drifted through the cracks, fresh and wild, wrapping around me like memory. Every droplet that slid down the glass caught the faintest hint of gold light from outside. The runes were glowing again, just barely visible through the fog.

Alive.

It wasn’t violent. Not yet. It was just breathing. Remembering.

I rested my hand against the cold pane and felt it the pulse. The same steady rhythm that wasn’t mine, but somehow was. The bond. Kieran.

For a moment, I let it stay. That quiet hum beneath my skin, threading through me like a forgotten song. It didn’t hurt anymore. It didn’t burn or pull it just was. Constant. Familiar. Like the heartbeat of the world itself.

Then, faintly, I heard his voice. Not with my ears, but somewhere deeper.

You’re not sleeping again.

I smiled softly to myself. Neither are you.

A pause. Then, You felt it too.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “The runes.”

They’re moving closer to your borders. Like the forest’s drawing breath.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. “Is that supposed to comfort me?”

It’s not supposed to scare you either, he murmured. It’s choosing its side.

“And which side is that?”

Another pause, then his answer came, low and certain: Yours.

I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.

By morning, the rain had stopped, leaving behind a mist that clung to everything. The courtyard smelled of wet earth and steel; the wolves training there moved slower today, cautious, like they could feel the same unease that had settled in my bones.

Lyra found me in the hall just after breakfast, a book tucked under her arm and that half worried, half excited look she always wore when she’d found something ancient enough to make sense of the chaos.

“You’re not going to like this,” she said without greeting.

I arched a brow. “That’s a terrible way to start a conversation.”

She handed me the book. The cover was cracked, the pages yellowed, the scent of old ink and magic heavy between them. “I found this in the archives. It mentions the Echo Mark again.”

“The mark that appeared when I touched the runes.”

She nodded. “Except this text says it wasn’t just a symbol it was a promise. The last link between the first wolves and the Moon’s chosen.”

I frowned. “Chosen for what?”

“To keep the balance between light and shadow,” she said quietly. “To stop the old magic from consuming the new.”

The words landed like stones in my chest. “So it’s not just remembering me it’s testing me.”

“Maybe both,” she said. “But if it’s true, Isla it means you’re not just reacting to the bond. You’re part of the reason it exists.”

That silenced me. Because deep down, I already knew it.

Every time Kieran reached for me, the bond didn’t just hum it answered. The forest itself shifted, the stones pulsed, the wards trembled. As if everything was waiting for one thing. For me to remember what I was supposed to be.

And I still didn’t know if I wanted to.

Tristan found me outside near midday, standing where the training field met the forest. His boots sank slightly in the wet ground as he approached, his expression unreadable.

“You’re too close to the treeline,” he said.

“You say that like the trees bite.”

He didn’t smile. “They might.”

I turned to look at him. “You felt it too.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “It’s stronger today. The wards flickered again at dawn.”

“Because it’s reaching,” I murmured.

“For you,” he said quietly. “Always for you.”

There was no accusation in his tone, just a weary kind of truth. And maybe that’s what made it hurt more.

“I didn’t ask for this, Tristan.”

“I know.” He stepped closer. “But you’re still the one carrying it.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we didn’t say. The rain had stopped hours ago, but the air still smelled like it fresh and sharp and fleeting.

Finally, he said, “Lyra told me what she found. About the bridge.”

I looked away. “Then you know what that means.”

“Yes.” He paused. “And I wish I didn’t.”

When I glanced back at him, his eyes weren’t hard anymore. They were tired, human, full of something fragile.

“I don’t want to lose you to something I can’t fight,” he admitted. “Not to Kieran. Not to the forest. Not to the Moon itself.”

My throat tightened. “You won’t.”

But even as I said it, the bond stirred again soft, insistent, alive.

Kieran.

Tristan felt it too. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move away. “He’s calling again.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s not a call. It’s a reminder.”

“Of what?”

I met his eyes. “That this isn’t over.”

That night, the world changed again quietly, without thunder or flame.

The forest lit up.

From my window, I watched as faint veins of gold began to thread through the trees, not burning but glowing. The same pulse that had followed me for weeks now spread like breath, winding through bark and earth and shadow.

It wasn’t attacking. It wasn’t warning. It was remembering.

Lyra ran through the corridor moments later, her hair damp, her eyes wide. “It’s responding again!”

“I can see that,” I said, grabbing my cloak.

Tristan appeared from his study, already half-shifted, his eyes glinting silver. “No one goes near it until we know what it wants.”

But it was too late for that. Because it wasn’t the magic coming to us anymore. It was calling me.

And I couldn’t ignore it.

I stepped outside, the cool night air biting against my skin. The forest was alive with light, the ground humming beneath my feet. When I reached the first rune stone, it pulsed once then again, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat.

You are the bridge.

The voice came again, soft as wind, ancient as bone.

“What does that mean?” I whispered.

No answer. Just another pulse of light, this time spreading further, linking to the next stone.

Behind me, I heard Tristan’s footsteps. “Isla, stop”

But before he could reach me, something gentle but unyielding pushed him back a wall of energy, invisible but real.

“It’s okay,” I said softly, though I wasn’t sure it was. “It’s not hurting me.”

The air shimmered. My mark the faint gold sigil that had appeared on my wrist days ago began to glow, bright and alive. The runes echoed it, a perfect reflection.

And then I saw him.