Chapter 43 Chapter 43: Ashes of the Wise

Chapter 43 Chapter 43: Ashes of the Wise

POV: Derek
The search party found Sage three miles northeast of Viktor's compound, in a clearing that reeked of death and ritual violence.
I stood at the edge of the site, my wolf howling silently beneath my skin as I cataloged what remained of the woman who'd mentored me for years. Her white fur was matted with blood gone black in the dawn light. Her chest gaped open—a surgical wound, precise and deliberate. Viktor had torn out her heart with his own claws, leaving claw marks that spoke of rage and something darker. Triumph, maybe. Or madness.
"Derek." River's voice came from behind me, barely a whisper. She'd insisted on coming despite Thomas's death still fresh, despite the grief that should have kept her in bed. "We need to bring her home."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Four pack members stepped forward with the ceremonial blanket—white silk embroidered with pack history, reserved for elders who'd earned honor beyond measure. They wrapped Sage's broken body with reverent care, and I felt the pack bonds shudder as we acknowledged what we'd lost.
Not just wisdom. Not just history.
Our anchor. The wolf who'd held us together through centuries of storms.
The journey back to the compound was silent except for the crunch of boots on frozen ground. Wolves flanked us in animal form, providing escort and protection we no longer needed. Viktor's forces had vanished after the battle, melting into the wilderness like smoke.
Leaving us to count our dead.

The compound felt out of place in the grey morning light. Too quiet. Too empty. pack members gathered in the central clearing where Sage's pyre waited—constructed from sacred wood, built with rituals older than written language.
Thomas's body lay beside it, wrapped in his own ceremonial blanket. River had refused to let anyone else prepare him, had washed his wounds herself with trembling hands while pack members kept a respectful distance.
I caught Luna's scent before I saw her. She stood at the clearing's edge, Hawk propped against her side, both of them looking like survivors of a war nobody won. Luna's hybrid transformation had finally stabilized, leaving her looking almost human except for the amber flicker in her eyes. But the guilt radiating from her was thick enough to choke on.
River saw her too. Saw Luna take one hesitant step forward, mouth opening to speak.
"Don't." River's voice cut like silver through flesh. "Don't you dare say you're sorry again."
Luna froze. Hawk's hand tightened on her shoulder.
"River, please—" Luna tried.
"Thomas died because you couldn't control yourself." River's words were ice and ash. "Because you charged into a tactical situation without training, without backup, without thinking about anyone except Hawk. And now my mate is dead, and you want forgiveness?" She laughed, the sound hollow and broken. "I don't have forgiveness for you, Luna. I have nothing for you except this space between us. Stay in it."
The pack bonds twisted with uncomfortable tension. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
Finally, Luna nodded once and stepped back, and something in her expression shattered so completely I had to look away.
Sage would have known what to say. Would have mediated, explained, found words that bridged the impossible gulf between River's grief and Luna's guilt.
But Sage was wrapped in white silk, waiting to burn.
The ritual began at sunset.
I stood before both pyres, feeling the weight of temporary alpha authority press against my shoulders like a physical burden. Pack members formed concentric circles, with the youngest on the outside and the elders—what few remained—closest to the fire.
"We gather to honor our fallen," I began, using the ancient words Sage had taught me. My voice cracked on her name. "Sage Wintermoon. Thomas Redclaw. Warriors. Teachers. Family."
One by one, pack members stepped forward to share memories.
Old Marcus spoke first, his voice trembling with age. "Sage taught me to hunt when I was still in diapers. Said I had the instincts of a stone but the heart of a hunter. She was right about the heart part, at least."
Nervous laughter rippled through the circle.
"She taught me to read," young Kira added, tears streaming down her face. "Not just books—taught me to read pack bonds, to feel what others needed before they knew themselves. Said that was the real magic of being pack."
"Thomas made the best damn chili in three states," Derek's voice called out. Several wolves howled in agreement. "And he never let me live down that time I fell asleep during patrol and woke up tied to a tree with training rope."
More laughter, this time genuine. The sound felt wrong and right simultaneously—celebration mixed with mourning, joy threaded through grief.
River stepped forward last, her face carved from pain. "Thomas was my mate. My anchor. The wolf who saw me at my worst and loved me anyway." Her voice broke. "He died protecting his alpha. Died being exactly who he always was—loyal, brave, and too stubborn to run from danger." She looked directly at Luna. "He died a hero. Let no one say otherwise."
The accusation hung unspoken but clear: Unlike others, he died with honor.
Luna's face crumbled, but she didn't look away. Didn't defend herself. Just stood there taking River's grief like penance.
I raised both hands, drawing everyone's attention back. "Sage Wintermoon lived three hundred forty-two years. She taught generations of wolves how to survive, how to think, how to be a pack. She made mistakes—acknowledged them—and died trying to fix them." I thought about her confession, about the treason that had haunted her final months. "She was flawed. Human, despite being supernatural. But she was ours, and we were better for knowing her."
I lit Sage's pyre first. The sacred wood caught immediately, flames climbing with unnatural speed. Pack magic, perhaps, or just the universe acknowledging what we'd lost.
Then Thomas's pyre. The flames merged and rose together, twin columns of light against the darkening sky.
"From earth we came," the pack chanted in unison. "To earth we return. But first, we give our honored dead to sky and flame. Let their spirits fly free. Let their wisdom remain."
Wolves began to howl—a chorus that started low and built until it shook the mountains. I joined them, letting my grief pour out in sound that transcended language.
Luna howled too, and the broken note in her voice made my chest ache.
We stood there until the pyres burned to ash, until dawn threatened the eastern horizon. Pack members drifted away in small groups, processing loss in their own ways.
I stayed until the end, watching embers die to nothing.
Footsteps approached from behind. Jason Pierce—Luna's brother, the source of our tactical leak—flanked by two guards. His face looked haggard, haunted by what his betrayal had cost.
"Derek." He stopped at a respectful distance. "I need to confess. Publicly."
"Not now—"
"Now." Jason's voice carried certainty I hadn't heard before. "The pack deserves to know what I did. What happened because of my choices?"
The remaining wolves turned to watch. Luna went very still.
"I leaked operational intelligence to Martin Cross," Jason said clearly, loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Coordinates, timing, tactical details. He promised to extract Nova to safety against hybrid hunters, to give her a normal human life. I believed I was protecting my niece." His voice cracked. "Instead, I got people killed. Thomas. Sage. Federal agents. I thought I was choosing family, but I betrayed everyone who trusted me."
Silence fell like snow.
"Detain him," I ordered the guards. "Council will determine consequences."
"Derek—" Luna stepped forward.
"Your brother confessed to treason that cost us pack members." I met her eyes, saw the plea there, and hardened my voice. "That's not something family love erases."
Agent Trent appeared at the clearing's edge, her remaining hand bandaged, her face grey with pain. "Martin escaped with footage. Battle recordings, transformation sequences, and hybrid child documentation. It's already uploading to networks we can't shut down fast enough."
The pack bonds shuddered with collective fear.
"How long?" I asked.
"Hours, maybe less, before it goes viral." Trent's expression was grim. "The world's about to learn werewolves exist. And they'll learn through images of violence, death, and supernatural war."
Someone was coming through the trees. A figure in formal robes, moving with authority that made my wolf want to submit and fight simultaneously.
Councilman Frost stepped into the dying firelight, flanked by four enforcers.
"Derek Stoneheart. Acting Alpha of Blackthorn Pack." His voice carried that supernatural clarity that made my bones ache. "I come bearing summons."
He produced a scroll sealed with the Council's mark—ancient wax, blood-red, pressed with a symbol that predated written language.
"Hawk Blackthorn and Luna Blackthorn are hereby summoned to formal Council judgment. Charges include: repeated exposure violations, alliance with human authorities against Council protocol, failure to maintain pack security resulting in elder death, and creation of hybrid offspring without Council authorization." Frost's eyes found Hawk and Luna. "You will appear before the full Council in seventy-two hours. Failure to comply results in immediate pack dissolution and your execution as rogues."
"You can't—" I started.
"I can. I have." Frost's smile held no warmth. "The Council has spoken. Judgment awaits."
He vanished back into the forest, enforcers following like shadows.
The clearing erupted in protest. Wolves demanding answers, crying injustice, pack bonds fracturing under strain they weren't built to handle.
I looked at Hawk and Luna. Saw them holding each other like drowning people clutching driftwood.
Saw River's face twisted with satisfaction and guilt.
I hope Hawk would take over sooner, but with this development, what would be the outcome
Saw the future splintering into possibilities, none of them good.
"Everyone back to quarters," I ordered. "Council meeting day after tomorrow. Tonight, we grieve." As Hawk gave me an approval node.
The pack scattered slowly, reluctantly, leaving me alone with ashes and impossible choices.
Sage's wisdom would have guided me through this.
But Sage was dead.
And I was drowning.