Chapter 20

*Aria*

It’s been a week since the Hollowfang pack joined us.

Since the forest pushed Talon into my path like fate hadn’t quite given up on me yet. Like he needed the push, and I needed to find him. Why, I am not sure yet. 

The glade, once quiet and sacred, now hums with activity. Training drills echo through the trees at dawn. The scent of sweat and dirt clings to the moss and bark. Blunted blades clash, arrows whistle through the air, and our wolves run in synchronized patterns through the woods as if remembering what it means to belong to something worth fighting for.

They train me like I’m one of them. Like I’m more than what I was. And I train like I’ve got something to prove—because I do.

I can see it in their eyes. They have so much hope and so many expectations for what I mean. They have shared parts of their past with me, of what haunts them, of how cruel our world has been. I cannot fail them. They have talked about how Kael isn't necessarily a bad King, but a lot of his father's archaic laws, principles, and ideology still exist, and he hasn't done anything to change that. They seem to believe that if it doesn't affect him or those who are deemed important, he does nothing.

That will need to be changed. Doing nothing, turning a blind eye, or ignoring the suffering of those deemed below doesn't sit well with me. I will not allow it.

Each day, a different member of the Hollowfangs steps in to push me. One shows me how to angle a strike to leave a permanent mark. Another teaches me how to move without being seen and how to use the wind as a weapon, not just an obstacle. Corren is especially relentless, pairing me with wolves larger and faster, refusing to let me give in to fatigue. And I don’t.

I can’t afford to.

Ronan works mostly with my wolf. We run together through the trees, him giving short, clipped directions over the link. He doesn’t coddle. Doesn’t praise. Just expects. And I rise to meet every expectation.

Sera watches. Quietly. Always at the edge of the clearing, her presence like a grounding spell.

"You’re growing," she said this morning while wrapping my bruised knuckles. "But you’re still chasing the strength you already have. The power is in you, child. You just have to remember it. Open yourself to it."

Others have started to arrive. Two wolves from the far south appeared three days ago, drawn by whispers and wind. A healer from the east, her eyes silver like mine. A boy barely fifteen who carries an amulet with the Nightshade crest etched into its center. A relic from my past. He offered it to me, but I told him he should keep it. He has worn it with pride every day since.

"More will come," Sera told me. "The forest is guiding them. As it guided you."

Tonight, the air is different. Charged.

Ronan finds me after dusk when the fire crackles low, and most of the pack is either resting or cleaning gear.

"You’ve earned your place," he says without preamble.

I raise an eyebrow. "Was that ever in question?"

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Not to your people. But maybe to you."

He sits beside me on the stone bench at the edge of the glade, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes scan the trees like they’re listening—and maybe they are.

"I think it’s time we move."

I blink. "Move where?"

"North. To the ruins of your family’s estate. To the heart of what was once Nightshade territory."

I go still. My breath catches. My wolf is at attention. *Home*. I hear in my mind.

"It’s barren now," he continues. "But if the legends are true—if your power is truly tied to the land—it might come back to life with you there."

My breath catches.

"You think just walking onto dead ground will bring it back?"

"Not walking," he says. "Returning. You’re not going to that place as a girl looking for answers. You’re going as the heir. The forest knows you. The magic remembers. You step onto that soil, and the land will answer."

Sera approaches from the shadows, her hands folded beneath her robes.

"He’s right," she murmurs. "You won’t need to call them. The forest will guide the others to you. But to truly rise, you need a seat of power. A place the world can look to and say: this is where she stands."

My heart pounds. I glance at the gathered camp, at the wolves who gave up safety for belief.

Belief in me. In a better world.

"We leave at first light," I say.

Ronan nods once and turns to go, but Sera remains.

A young woman with wheat-blonde hair tied in a braid steps up to her. Her eyes are wide but steady, her hands holding something wrapped in soft cloth. She glances at me and blushes.

"For you, your Majesty," she says shyly.

I smile at her, “Please call me Aria.”

I take the bundle and unfold it.

A black tunic. Sturdy, beautiful, finely stitched. At first, it looks simple.

Then I see it. My hands tremble.

The crest. Embroidered just over the heart. A silver wolf surrounded by crescent branches. The symbol of my mother’s line.

I trace it with trembling fingers. The thread glints in the firelight like moonlight.

I feel the tears fall before I realize they’re there.

"How… how did you know?" I whisper.

The girl bows her head. "Sera told us. And I dreamed of it. I used to draw it when I was a child, even before I knew what it meant. I think... I think I was always meant to sew it for you."

Sera places a hand on my back.

I look up at the woman and ask. “What is your name?”

She smiles a sweet simile, answering, “Amy.”

I clutch the tunic to my chest, my voice raw. "Thank you, Amy."

That night, sleep doesn’t come easily.

But when it does, I dream of silver trees, of wild winds, of a ruined castle bathed in starlight.

And I dream of roots growing through the stones.

Of home, waiting to be reborn.