Chapter 86: Whispers in the Blood
The fortress pulsed with energy now that Damian had returned, yet Isla couldn’t shake the unease curling in her chest. The air inside the stone walls felt thicker, like it carried secrets too ancient to name. Every torch burned brighter, every footstep echoed longer. But despite the renewed presence of the Alpha, the mood wasn’t peace, it was preparation. Tension hung over the stronghold like a blade, suspended and waiting to fall.
The tension of looming war, the unknown nature of her lineage, and the relentless exhaustion clawing at her bones, it all pressed against her, an invisible weight threatening to crush her and now, there was news. It was quite unwelcome, urgent, and impossibly dangerous.
She sat in the war room, flanked by warriors and trusted allies, the scent of ink, sweat, and old parchment sharp in the air. The large oak table was scattered with maps, tokens marking shifting alliances and threats. Isla’s fingers tightened around the edge of her chair to steady herself. She’d been lightheaded all morning, but she refused to show weakness, especially not now.
Magnus entered first, his steps sure, but his face carved with unease. His beard was damp from snow, his traditional cloak lined with dust, and his eyes… grim.
Damian stood tall at the head of the table, arms crossed over his broad chest. His silver eyes tracked Magnus like a predator, reading every shift in his expression.
“We received word from our scouts,” Magnus said, placing a rolled parchment on the table with more force than necessary. “Raven and Silas have uncovered something.”
Damian’s stance shifted. Alert. Instinctive. “What?”
Magnus hesitated. Not out of fear, but respect for the weight of his words. “A hidden archive. Buried deep beneath the ruins of an old keep, one that once belonged to the First Bloodline.”
Isla’s breath hitched.
The First Bloodline. The golden-eyed wolves. Her ancestors.
The very legacy that both called to her and terrified her. She'd seen glimpses in dreams she could not explain, of hands bathed in light, of voices calling her name in a tongue long dead. Something inside her stirred every time they were mentioned, something old and wild and alive.
“They’re still searching for a way in,” Magnus continued, sliding the parchment toward Damian. “But they believe the ruins hold more than just records. There are whispers of something… alive beneath those stones.”
Alive.
The word hung in the room like a ghost.
Damian’s jaw worked. “Alive?” he repeated, low and incredulous.
Magnus nodded once. “Some say it’s a remnant of the past. Others believe it’s something guarding the bloodline’s secrets. Either way, Raven and Silas are determined to find out.”
Isla felt her stomach tighten, not with fear alone, but recognition. Whatever lay hidden in those ruins, it was calling to her. It always had been. She just hadn’t known what the voice meant, until now.
As the council dispersed and the war table was slowly cleared of its burdens, Isla caught Leo’s arm before he could leave.
“Have you heard anything about Brienne?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more fragile.
Leo’s expression shifted instantly, the lines of worry etched deep between his brows. “Nothing. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Alaine, who lingered near the door, frowned. “She wouldn’t just vanish without reason.”
“No,” Isla agreed. “She wouldn’t.”
Brienne had been her constant, her anchor in a world unraveling and now she was gone, without warning, without a trace.
They had sent scouts and tracked possible trails. As well, having sought visions and still nothing. That, more than any prophecy, more than any enemy, was what terrified Isla most.
As the sun dipped behind the mountains, casting the fortress in hues of shadow and cold light, Isla’s exhaustion began to gnaw at her more fiercely. The dizziness, the nausea, the strange aches in her lower belly, they were no longer just a passing illness. Something was wrong.
She walked up to her safe place and dismissed the guards outside her chamber with a weak smile. She didn’t want anyone to see her falter.
But the moment the door closed behind her, she leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. Her pulse was uneven. Her skin clammy. She made it halfway to the bed before her knees gave out. Pain tore through her abdomen, sharp, electric, like lightning striking bone. Isla gasped and fell to her hands, clutching her stomach. Her breath came in ragged gasps, panic clawing at her throat.
“No… no…”
Her vision blurred and millions of stars appeared, swimming across her sight.
Something inside her pulsed, ancient and unfamiliar. Not just pain, it was uncontained and surging power. The room spun. Heat licked up her spine, cold sweat coating her skin.
The ground seemed to tilt beneath her and then, the darkness opened its mouth and took her.