Chapter 84

Chapter 84
Trevor

The council chamber smelled of smoke and tension.

Every alpha instinct in me wanted to throw the table across the room just to get silence. Instead, I stood there listening to elders talk about containment protocols and prophecy stabilization metrics as if my wife were an object to be studied.

Rowan sat beside me, calm as ever, scrolling through surveillance reports on his tablet. Jason leaned against the wall, arms folded, his expression flat but his scent screaming unease. And my mother, she stood near the window, looking out at the training grounds. 

They were all waiting for me to explode.

I almost gave them what they wanted.

“She’s not leaving this pack,” I said finally, breaking the stale air. “Not for research. Not for protection. Not for your experiments. She stays here, under my guard.”

Elder Marek, the oldest among us, shifted in his seat. “Alpha Trevor, you’re making decisions driven by emotion. The pack’s safety...”

“...depends on her safety,” I cut in. “Without her, there’s no future. Without the twins, there’s no line. You want to keep this pack breathing? You keep her breathing.”

The old man swallowed hard, then looked to Rowan for help.

Rowan didn’t move. “He’s not wrong. The threat’s organized, not random. If we move her, we could lead the enemy straight to her.”

Jason cleared his throat. “I traced the moonflower residue from the nursery symbol. It’s not from any supplier in our region. The pollen’s genetically altered; ancient strain, mixed with wolf blood.”

Rowan frowned. “That shouldn’t exist.”

Jason handed me a data chip. “It does. Whoever used it had access to forbidden archives.”

My mother turned from the window. “The Veilwalker archives.”

Rowan’s head snapped toward her. “You’re certain?”

“I helped destroy them decades ago,” she said quietly. “But someone must have rebuilt the order in secret. And if they have access to moonflower hybrids, they have blood scrolls. That means they can track Crescent-Born energy.”

“Track,” I repeated slowly. “As in, they can find her.”

My mother nodded once. “Anywhere.”

A low growl rattled in my chest. “Then we find them first.”

Jason exhaled. “We’ll need to move quietly. If they’re tracking her, any false step could draw them in faster.”

“Good,” I said. “Let them come.”

“Trevor,” Rowan warned, “we don’t even know who leads them.”

I turned toward him, voice steady. “We will.”

Silence stretched until my mother spoke again. “You won’t find the architect through the warriors or the borders. You’ll find him through the past.”

I met her gaze. “Explain.”

“The first Crescent-Born on record, Lunara of the Silver Vale kept a prophecy diary,” she said. “It described how the Veilwalkers hunted her, and the name of the one who began their order.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “The founder.”

She nodded. “It was said his line would never die until the last Crescent-Born did.”

Jason muttered, “And now we have one alive again.”

My mother looked at me. “The diary was hidden in the Temple of Shades, beyond the northern cliffs. You’ll need it before you can kill whoever’s coming.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Then we leave tonight.”

Rowan blinked. “Tonight? You’re not taking Evelyn on that terrain.”

“She’s not staying here unguarded either,” I said. “I’ll take a strike unit. Jason stays behind to guard her. Rowan, you run border surveillance.”

My mother's eyes sharpened. “You’ll die if you go unprepared.”

I looked her straight in the eye. “Then prepare me.”

For the first time in years, she didn’t have a sharp reply. Just a weary nod.

Rowan sighed. “If we’re doing this, we move fast. The cliffs aren’t safe after midnight.”

Jason crossed the room, handing me a tracker patch. “For the twins. If anything happens, I’ll know.”

I pressed it to the inside of my wrist. “If anything happens, you’ll hear me before the tracker does.”



Later that night

I stood in our bedroom doorway watching Evelyn sleep. The silver light touched her face, softening the lines that worry had carved there. One hand rested over her belly, fingers twitching as if the twins were stirring.

I wanted to wake her. I wanted to tell her everything; the diary, the Veilwalker rebirth, the plan but the look on her face stopped me.

Peace. Rare. Fragile. Borrowed.

I leaned down, brushed my lips against her temple, and whispered, “I’ll bring back the truth, love. Then I’ll burn it so it never touches you again.”

She stirred, murmuring my name in her sleep.

My chest cracked open.

Rowan’s voice came softly from the hallway. “Time.”

I straightened, pulling on my jacket, slipping a dagger into the belt at my side. The wolf inside me was restless, pacing, ready.

At the door, I glanced back once more.

She looked so small against the darkness. So luminous it hurt to stare.

I whispered, “Mine,” and stepped into the night.

Hours later – Northern Cliffs

Wind roared off the edge of the cliffs, carrying the scent of salt and old magic. Rowan led the way, his flashlight slicing through the mist. Behind us, two warriors carried supply packs, silent and alert.

The Temple of Shades wasn’t supposed to exist anymore. It had been sealed centuries ago, a shrine to a Goddess who no longer answered prayers.

But when the fog parted, there it was.

Carved into the cliffside, half buried in vines and moonlight, the doorway shimmered faintly with silver energy.

Rowan exhaled. “You sure about this?”

“No,” I said. “Open it.”

He pressed his palm to the sigil on the stone. The air cracked, releasing a hiss of ancient energy. Dust fell in lazy spirals as the door groaned open.

Inside, darkness breathed.

We stepped in.

The walls were covered in runes, glowing faintly, pulsing like veins. The air tasted metallic, electric, alive.

Rowan whispered, “Do you feel that?”

I did. It wasn’t just power. It was presence.

And then I heard it, soft, almost inaudible.

A heartbeat.

Not mine.
Not Rowan’s.

A second later, a whisper brushed the air.

“Trevor of the Broken Line…”

Rowan’s head snapped up. “Who said that?”

I didn’t answer.

Because the voice wasn’t around us.

It was inside my head.

“…you bring the blood of the protector,” it murmured. “And you carry the scent of the Crescent-Born.”

My pulse spiked. “Show yourself.”

The runes on the wall flared. A figure shimmered into form; half shadow, half light. Hooded. Ancient.

And smiling.

“You seek the diary,” it said. “But you already carry its prophecy.”

Rowan drew his blade. “What does that mean?”

The figure’s voice deepened, echoing through the chamber.

“It means the Crescent-Born’s story has already begun to end.”

The runes behind it shifted and one word burned brighter than the rest.

“Evelyn.”

My heart seized.

Then the light exploded.