Chapter 9

The first howl had barely faded when the rogues struck.

They came from the shadows, swift and silent, their bodies mere blurs against the darkened forest. Their eyes gleamed like embers in the moonlight, their snarls tearing through the eerie silence.

Elara barely had time to react before the first wolf lunged.

Instinct took over.

She sidestepped, drawing her dagger in one fluid motion, the blade catching the faint silver glow of the moon as she slashed. The rogue yelped, veering off course as her dagger sliced across its shoulder. Another charged from the left, but before it could reach her, Leon was there.

He moved like a force of nature—fluid, brutal. His blade struck true, the rogue barely able to let out a cry before collapsing in a heap. His ice-blue eyes flickered to her, scanning, assessing.

“Stay close,” he said, voice tight.

Elara barely had time to nod before Soren’s voice cut through the chaos.

“There’s more coming!”

She turned just in time to see them emerging from the trees—more than she had expected, their numbers stretching deeper into the forest. Too many for a simple rogue skirmish.

Her stomach twisted. This isn't random. They were waiting for us.

Soren cursed under his breath. “We're boxed in.”

Leon took a step forward, placing himself slightly in front of Elara, a subtle, protective move that did not go unnoticed. His body was taut with tension, the moonlight casting sharp shadows across his face. “We fight our way out.”

Elara’s grip on her dagger tightened. “No. We find out who's leading them.”

Soren let out a humorless laugh, wiping blood from his blade. “If you're hoping for negotiations, you're about to be disappointed.”

Elara ignored him. Her instincts screamed that this was no ordinary attack. The bodies they had found earlier—Blackthorn wolves, arranged in a circle—this was something calculated, something deliberate.

And someone wanted her to see it.

The rogues shifted, their formation tightening as one figure emerged from the treeline.

Elara’s breath hitched.

The wolf was massive, nearly as large as Fenros had been, but unlike the ancient Alpha’s ethereal presence, this creature radiated something else entirely. Pure, unbridled malice. Its fur was pitch black, sleek and unbroken except for three long scars running diagonally across its muzzle. Its eyes—deep, soulless red—locked onto Elara with unmistakable intent.

This was no ordinary rogue.

This was their leader.

The wolf shifted before their eyes, bones cracking and reshaping with unnerving ease. Within seconds, a man stood where the beast had been.

Tall and lean, his bare torso was covered in old battle scars. His dark hair was cropped short, his sharp features hardened by years of violence. He rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly as if this were nothing more than a casual encounter.

Then, he smiled. “Elara Blackthorn,” he drawled, his voice smooth, almost amused. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Elara’s heartbeat slammed against her ribs. She knew that voice.

**Kier Alden.**

A former Blackthorn warrior—one who had betrayed the pack years ago and vanished without a trace.

Her fingers tightened around her blade. “You should be dead.”

Kier’s smirk widened. “Many have tried.” His gaze flicked to Leon, then to Soren. “And | see you brought company. How thoughtful.”

Leon’s expression remained impassive, but the way his fingers twitched near his blade told Elara everything she needed to know.

Soren let out a slow breath. “I’m assuming you're not here to reminisce.”

Kier chuckled. “Oh, Soren. Always so serious.” His crimson gaze locked onto Elara again, and something dark flickered in his eyes. “I came to deliver a message.”

Elara stiffened. “The bodies. That was your message?”

Kier spread his arms. “A little dramatic, I'll admit. But effective.”

Leon took a step forward, his presence suddenly suffocating. “Say what you came to say. Before | cut you down where you stand.”

Kier’s smirk faltered just slightly. Then, with slow precision, he lifted his hand and pointed directly at Elara.

“You're running out of time.” The words sent a chill through her.

Kier tilted his head. “Your blood is the key to something far greater than you realize. But there are those who won't wait for you to figure that out.”

Elara’s stomach turned. The prophecy.

Kier grinned, as if reading her thoughts. “Draven's little puppet won't be able to keep you safe forever.” His gaze flickered briefly to Leon, eyes narrowing slightly before returning to her. “And neither will he.”

Leon moved before Elara could stop him. A blur of motion—blade flashing, feet striking the dirt—Leon was on Kier in seconds, his dagger slicing toward the rogue’s throat.

Kier dodged at the last second, twisting away with unnatural speed. His smirk was gone now, replaced by something colder. “Touched a nerve, did 1?”

Leon didn’t answer. He lunged again.

Kier met him blow for blow, their movements a deadly dance of steel and instinct. But there was something off—something about the way Kier moved, how he anticipated Leon's strikes too easily.

Elara’s breath hitched. He’s studied him.

She had no time to warn Leon before Kier shifted mid-motion, his body blurring between human and wolf as he struck back. Leon barely managed to block the attack, the force of it sending him skidding back.

“Elara, we need to move!” Soren snapped, his blade cutting down another rogue.

But Elara wasn't watching the fight anymore.

Her eyes were locked on Kier's left wrist—on the silver chain wrapped around it, the insignia etched into the metal.

Her pulse spiked.

She had seen that symbol before.

In her mother's journal.

Her entire body went cold.

Kier saw the recognition in her face, and for the first time, his expression shifted into something unreadable.

Then, he smiled.

“See you soon, Blackthorn.”

Before she could react, he shifted back into his wolf form and vanished into the trees, his rogues scattering with him.

Silence crashed down.

Leon's breathing was heavy, his fists still clenched as he glared after the retreating figures. “Coward.”

Elara barely heard him.

Her hands were trembling.

The symbol on Kier’s wrist—it had been part of an entry her mother had written years ago. A crest belonging to a secret faction that had sought to control the valley’s power.

A faction tied to her mother’s past.

To Kael Storm.

The ground beneath her felt unsteady, her mind racing with implications she wasn't ready to face.

Leon turned to her, his eyes still stormy from the fight. “Elara, what is it?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze.

And then, for the first time, she spoke the truth out loud.

“He knew my mother.”

Leon's expression darkened. “What?”

Elara swallowed, her chest tight. “Kier. He was connected to her. And that means he’s not just a rogue.”

The realization settled over them like a thundercloud.

Soren exhaled, shaking his head. “Great. Because this situation wasn't complicated enough.”

Elara barely heard him.