Chapter 26 Chapter 26

Chapter 26 Chapter 26
Chapter 26
The night air crackled with tension as our forces surged toward the eastern flank. I ran beside Alaric in my wolf form for the first time since the sanctum, my paws pounding against the damp earth. Alia, my wolf, felt stronger, more in sync with the power humming beneath my skin. The mate bond glowed like a golden thread between Alaric’s massive black wolf and me, guiding every stride. Around us, Nightcrest warriors howled their defiance, a chorus that sent chills racing down my spine.
But the sound that answered from the darkness ahead was far larger. Silverfang had brought their full strength. Hundreds of wolves crashed through the trees like a living tide, their eyes gleaming with hatred under the moonlight. I spotted cultists among them too, robed figures moving with unnatural silence, their black eyes empty voids that made my stomach turn.
Stay together, Alaric’s voice rumbled through the bond. Use everything she taught you. I’ve got your back.
I sent back a wave of determination and love, then focused. As the two lines collided, chaos erupted. Snarls and yelps filled the air. The metallic scent of blood rose thick and fast. I stayed in wolf form at first, using my teeth and claws where I could, but quickly shifted back to human when the need for my gift became overwhelming.
A Nightcrest warrior went down to my left, a deep gash across his side from silver-laced claws. I dropped to my knees beside him, ignoring the battle raging inches away. Golden light flowed from my palms as I wove the new moonlight healing technique Morgana had shown me. The wound began to close steadily, without the old backlash of pain flooding into me. The warrior gasped in relief and staggered back to his feet.
“Thank you,” he rashed before shifting again and leaping back into the fray.
Pride swelled in my chest, but there was no time to savor it. Another wave of Silverfang wolves slammed into our lines. I threw up a moonlight shield just in time to block a cultist’s dark energy blast that would have taken out three of our fighters. The impact rattled my bones, but the wall around Caden’s essence held firm. I acknowledged the flicker of guilt that tried to rise—this power came from violence—then ignored it completely. My focus stayed razor sharp.
Alaric fought like a demon a few paces ahead, his black fur a blur as he tore through enemies. Whenever a silver blade found its mark on him, I sent a quick pulse of healing through the bond. Our connection made it effortless, the golden sparks jumping between us even amid the madness.
We pushed forward, gaining ground inch by bloody inch. Marcus led from the center, his roar shaking the trees. Corin flanked us, coordinating smaller groups to strike at Silverfang’s weaker points using the intelligence Morgana had given me. For a while, it seemed like we might actually hold them.
Then Graham himself appeared at the head of a fresh wave of elite warriors.
The Alpha of Silverfang was a monster in battle form—larger than most, with scars crisscrossing his grey fur and eyes burning with personal fury. He locked onto me immediately and charged straight through the melee, bowling over his own wolves and ours alike.
“Nova!” Alaric snarled, intercepting Graham before he could reach me. The two alphas collided with bone-crunching force. The sound of their clash echoed across the battlefield.
I wanted to help, but Silverfang warriors swarmed me from the sides. I created a wide dome shield around myself and the nearest Nightcrest fighters, pouring every lesson from the sanctum into holding it steady. Cultists hammered at the barrier with dark magic, cracking it in places. Each time a fissure appeared, I mended it with moonlight while simultaneously sending healing pulses to the wounded inside.
Sweat poured down my face. My arms trembled from the sustained effort, but I did not break. A young Nightcrest she-wolf looked at me with wide eyes. “You really are Goddess-touched.”
I had no breath to answer. Instead, I expanded the shield just enough to knock back two attackers, then dropped it to strike out with focused beams of moonlight that stunned rather than consumed. Control. Everything came down to control.
Through the bond, I felt Alaric taking heavy hits. Graham was stronger than expected, fueled by grief and rage over Caden. I split my attention, maintaining the shield while directing healing toward my mate. Golden light wrapped around Alaric’s injuries mid-fight. He roared with renewed strength and drove Graham back several steps.
The battle raged for what felt like hours. We gained ground, lost it, then gained it again. Bodies littered the forest floor. The ground grew slick with blood. I moved constantly, healing where I could, shielding where I had to, and fighting with tooth and claw when power ran low. My muscles screamed. My mind grew foggy at the edges from the constant concentration. But I kept the wall around Caden’s essence locked tight. His voice barely whispered now.
At one point, during a brief lull, Alaric shifted back to human long enough to pull me against his bloodied chest. His breathing was ragged. “You are incredible,” he panted, pressing a fierce kiss to my forehead. “Keep going. We can win this.”
I kissed him back quickly, tasting salt and blood, before we were forced apart again by another surge of enemies.
Then the tide shifted.
A horn sounded from Silverfang’s rear. Fresh reinforcements poured in—more cultists, and something worse. I felt a familiar silver power brush against my senses. Morgana. She was here, somewhere on the edges, but I could not see her clearly. Was she helping us? Or was this part of whatever game she played?
The doubt tried to crack my focus. I crushed it.
A massive cultist leader, taller than the rest with runes carved into his pale skin, broke through our lines directly toward me. His black eyes bored into mine. “Soul Eater,” he hissed. “The old ones call for you.”
I raised my hands and unleashed a powerful moonlight blast. It struck him square in the chest and sent him flying, but he rose again, laughing. Dark energy coiled around his fists. He charged.
Alaric intercepted him, but the cultist was ready. A burst of shadow magic caught my mate in the side, sending him crashing into a tree with a sickening thud. I screamed and ran toward him, dropping my shields to pour every drop of healing power I possessed into his broken body.
The mate bond flared wildly as I worked. Bones knit. Internal bleeding stopped. Alaric’s eyes fluttered open just as the cultist leader loomed over us both.
I spun, exhaustion burning through every limb, and threw everything I had left into one final shield. It held, barely.
Then Graham’s voice boomed across the battlefield. “Now!”
Silverfang warriors surged with new ferocity. At the same moment, I felt a strange pull deep in my chest—not the mate bond, not Caden’s essence, but something older and colder. It came from the direction where I had sensed Morgana.
My vision blurred for a split second. Flashes of unfamiliar memories flooded my mind: crystal tombs, ritual knives, a woman who looked like me sacrificing everything for power. Then it was gone.
When my sight cleared, horror gripped me.
The cultist leader had broken through my weakened shield. His hand clamped around my throat, lifting me off the ground. Dark energy seeped into my skin, fighting against my own power.
Alaric roared and lunged, but Graham himself tackled him from the side, pinning him down.
“Take her!” Graham bellowed. “The essence and the girl both!”
Warriors closed in from all sides. My air supply dwindled. I reached desperately for my power, but the cultist’s grip suppressed it. Black spots danced in my vision.
In the distance, I caught a glimpse of silver eyes watching from the treeline. Morgana stood motionless, her expression unreadable.
As darkness edged closer, one final thought cut through the panic:
She had known this was coming.
To be continued...