Chapter Fifty-Seven: Divine’s Whisper

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Divine’s Whisper
The night had turned heavy and close, the air pressing against Faith’s skin like damp cloth. Rain threatened on the wind, but it hadn’t yet broken. David was still in the war room, growling over maps with his lieutenants, while Faith paced the porch of their home, restless.

The square had gone quiet hours ago, but she could still feel the echoes of the day’s unrest clinging to the walls Marek’s defiance, the wary stares, the tension like a taut rope waiting to snap.

She didn’t hear the stranger until the scent hit her it was unfamiliar, laced with moss and distant pine. Her wolf bristled instantly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said without turning.

“Perhaps not,” came a low male voice, smooth as dark wine. “But I bring something worth the risk.”

Faith pivoted. A man stood in the shadows beyond the porch rail, lean but sharp-eyed, his cloak blending into the night. His posture was unthreatening, but his stillness was wrong the kind of wrong that came from training. An Orell scout, without question.

Her hackles rose. “You’re trespassing on Rainfall land. That’s a death sentence.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping just close enough for her to see the faint twist of a smile, “I walk away alive. Because you’ll want to hear what I’ve been sent to tell you.”

Faith crossed her arms, hiding the coil of tension in her muscles. “Speak before I decide otherwise.”

The man’s gaze flicked toward the main hall toward David. “From Divine,” he said. “A whisper carried across the border, meant for your ears alone.”

Faith kept her face impassive, though her wolf snarled at the name.

“She says this war will end one of two ways: with Rainfall ash, or with Rainfall’s Luna stepping willingly into the Orell’s shadow.” His voice was calm, each word deliberate. “Leave your Alpha come to her of your own accord and If you do, she swears Rainfall will be spared the fire.”

Faith almost laughed not because it was funny, but because the audacity was so clean it felt like a blade. “You think I’d believe she’d keep that promise?”

“She is many things,” the messenger replied, “but she’s not careless with her word. She doesn’t need to be and you know why.”

Faith’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “And why is that?”

“Because the offer isn’t about mercy,” he said. “It’s about inevitability. She believes she’ll win. She’s offering you a way to end it without more bodies rotting in the square.”

Her wolf pressed harder against her skin, torn between fury and something far more dangerous,curiosity.

“She told me,” the man continued, leaning slightly forward, “that you’ve seen it too. The blood, the visions, and the way every choice you make pulls the war closer.”

Faith’s breath caught, just for an instant. She hated that he saw it.

The man’s tone softened, almost conspiratorial. “You could stop it. Not for your sake but for theirs. Every pup sleeping under this roof tonight could wake to peace instead of screams. All it takes is you stepping across the border at the next moonrise.”

Faith held his gaze, steady, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the storm inside her. “And if I refuse?”

He smiled faintly, not unkindly. “Then the war comes here. And when it does, Divine will make sure you live long enough to watch it burn.”

The night seemed to tighten around them. Faith could hear the slow, deliberate beat of her own heart.

“Tell Divine,” she said at last, her voice like tempered steel, “that if she wants me, she’ll have to come herself. And when she does, I’ll tear her throat out before I ever wear her chains.”

The messenger’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered approval or amusement.He stepped back into the shadows, his form already melting into the tree line. “You’ll think about it,” he murmured. “They always do.”

And then he was gone, leaving only the faint trace of pine and the low hum of her wolf’s rage.

Faith didn’t realize David was there until she felt his hand on her shoulder. She turned, startled, to find him standing in the doorway, his eyes black with his wolf’s presence.

“How much did you hear?” she asked.

“Enough,” he said.

The air between them felt charged, the kind of tension that could turn to violence or passion in a single breath. David’s grip tightened. “If you so much as consider…”

“I’m not going to her,” Faith cut in, sharper than she meant.

His gaze searched her face. “But you thought about it.”

Faith swallowed, hating that he could see through her so easily. “I thought about ending this war before it kills more of our people. That’s all.”

“That’s everything,” David growled. “Because she’ll use that she’ll dig her claws into that crack and tear it wide open.”

“I know,” Faith said, her voice low. “And that’s why she can’t win.”

David’s wolf retreated slightly, but not all the way. He reached up, brushing his fingers along her jaw, his touch rougher than it needed to be. “You are mine,” he said, not as a claim, but as a vow.

“And I’m yours,” she answered. “Which is why I’ll stand beside you when she comes.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the sound of distant thunder rolling in from the west. Somewhere in the dark, a wolf howled not Rainfall’s call, but the long, curling note of Orell hunting in the night.

Faith turned toward the sound, her wolf surging forward in silent answer.

If Divine wanted her, she’d have to take her from David’s side. And Faith had no intention of being taken alive.