Chapter 13 The South Tower Warning
The courtyard exploded into motion.
Kael didn’t hesitate—he yanked Lina forward and sprinted for the gate, wolves scattering behind them. Riven was a blur of curses and steel, Yara right on his heels.
The night air hit them cold and sharp as the south tower horn blared again—short, clipped blasts designed to signal one thing:
Breached perimeter.
Lina’s wolf surged to the surface.
Not the border. Inside. Closer.
“What could’ve gotten past the outer wall?” she asked breathlessly as they ran.
“Nothing should have,” Kael growled. “Unless—”
“—it didn’t come through the forest,” Riven finished grimly. “It came from inside the territory.”
The thought chilled Lina more than the night wind.
They reached a stone staircase spiraling upward. Kael shoved the door open and took the steps two at a time, dragging Lina with him. She kept up easily, her senses sharpening with every floor they passed.
By the time they burst onto the tower platform, the air felt… wrong.
Wrong in a way Lina recognized instantly.
Cold.
Damp.
Heavy.
Like breath fogging on the wrong side of the world.
A young guard stood frozen near the railing, his bow half-lowered, eyes fixed on something below.
Kael moved to him in a second. “Report.”
The young wolf flinched. “Alpha— I—I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if I should shoot or signaling meant I—”
Kael steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. What did you see?”
The guard swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “Movement. Not a wolf. Not a person. Just… movement. Like a shadow. Fast. Wrong shape.”
Lina stepped forward. “Where?”
He pointed shakily to the far side of the courtyard below. “There. Near the stables.”
Riven leaned over the edge. “I don’t see anything.”
“That’s not a good sign,” Yara muttered.
Lina inhaled deeply.
And froze.
There—faint, almost invisible—hung a trail of gray mist dissolving against the stones.
Her heart slammed.
“Kael.”
She pointed. “Look.”
Kael’s face hardened. “From the forest?”
“No,” Lina whispered. “This is thinner. Weaker. A fragment. A scout.”
Riven swore. “It sent a piece of itself across the border?”
Lina’s voice dropped. “It slipped through the crack we made.”
Kael stiffened. “Is it still here?”
Lina closed her eyes, extending her senses just enough to feel the magic lingering.
A chill slid across her mind.
Not a presence.
A brush.
Like fingertips of smoke.
Then—
Nothing.
“It’s gone,” she said softly. “It was probing. Testing. Seeing how far it could reach.”
Yara looked at Kael. “If it can get inside the outer perimeter—”
Kael finished, voice low: “—it can get inside the fortress.”
Silence fell.
The young guard whispered shakily, “Was it… watching us?”
Lina met his eyes. “Yes.”
Kael’s jaw flexed. “Riven. Get scouts on every tower. Quietly. No panic.”
“On it.” Riven vaulted down the stairs, grumbling darkly about eldritch nightmares and insufficient pay.
Kael turned back to Lina. “What exactly slipped through?”
“A fragment,” she said. “A sliver of its essence. Enough to observe, not enough to attack.”
Yara frowned. “Why send only a piece?”
Lina hesitated.
Her wolf answered for her.
Because it’s learning.
She swallowed. “Because it wants information. Our layout. Our defenses. How fast we react.”
Kael exhaled slowly. “It’s adapting.”
“Yes,” Lina said. “And fast.”
The guard braced both hands on the wall. “Alpha, I’m sorry— I should have—”
Kael gripped his shoulder again. “You raised the alarm. You did exactly what you should. You kept this pack alive.”
The guard’s eyes welled slightly, but he nodded and steadied himself.
Kael turned to Lina. “You said it wasn’t strong enough to attack.”
“Not yet,” Lina said. “But later? When the crack widens?”
Her voice softened. “It will send more than fragments.”
Kael stepped closer, lowering his voice. “How much time do we really have?”
Lina hated the answer forming in her chest.
“Less than I thought.”
“How much less?”
She looked toward the treeline beyond the walls—the same spot where the eyes had stared back at her hours earlier.
“A day. Maybe two.”
Kael’s wolf surged, pressing against his skin. “We prepare for war, then.”
Lina shook her head. “No. This isn’t a war. Wolves don’t know how to fight this. Swords, claws, teeth—they don’t matter against something that eats through reality itself.”
“What’s your plan?” Kael asked.
She turned to him fully.
“We strengthen the Veil from the inside. We use the sanctum. We use the relics. We focus the magic.”
Kael nodded slowly. “And we train the pack to hold the line.”
“No.” Her voice was firm. “You aren’t training the pack. You’re training yourself.”
Kael’s eyes sharpened. “Why only me?”
“Because you’re the Alpha,” Lina said. “Your wolf carries more magic than anyone else’s. And the bond between us”—her throat tightened—“will anchor the spell.”
Yara snapped her gaze between them. “Anchor? Bond? What are we talking about?”
Kael didn’t look away from Lina. “Something we will discuss later.”
Lina’s cheeks warmed. “Yes. Later.”
Yara raised a brow. “Oh. One of those discussions.”
“Yara,” Kael warned.
She backed away, hands raised. “Not judging. Just observing.”
Lina forced her focus back to the ground below. “We need to sweep the courtyard. Quietly. Whatever slipped in may have left traces we can follow.”
Kael nodded. “I’ll lead. You stay beside me.”
Riven’s voice floated up the tower stairs: “And I’ll be right behind you! Preferably with silver bells and a giant stick!”
Kael rubbed his forehead. “Why do I keep him around?”
“Because he’d die for you,” Lina said softly. “That’s loyalty.”
Kael paused.
His eyes softened.
Then hardened again.
“We sweep,” he said. “We find whatever trail it left. And tonight—”
He took her hand.
“We seal the sanctum properly.”
Lina squeezed his fingers. “Together.”
Kael’s wolf hummed approval.
They descended the tower into moonlit shadows, preparing for whatever the Veil would send next.
The first battle had begun.