The Journey Begins - Elara

The Journey Begins - Elara
The morning came heavy with mist, the kind that clings to your eyelashes and makes the world feel softer than it is. Even before the sun broke over the trees, I was already packing. My hands moved with purpose, but my mind buzzed with the weight of what we had seen — Lima’s tears, Nathan’s betrayal, that cursed dagger buried beneath an oak where love had once bloomed.

Now it was our turn to find it.

Marcus stood near the doorway, half-dressed and pretending he wasn’t yawning. “So,” he said, crossing his arms, “you two are just gonna run off to retrieve a haunted knife while we babysit the pack?”

Austin, crouched beside his duffel, smirked. “That about sums it up.”

Leo leaned against the wall, one brow raised. “Guess we finally get to be Alphas for a bit.”

I zipped the last of the bags and glanced up at them. “Don’t let the power go to your heads,” I teased, though the warmth in my tone couldn’t hide the nervousness creeping up my spine.

Marcus grinned. “No promises, Luna.”

The title made me flush. I still wasn’t used to it. Every time one of them said it, I felt both proud and uncertain — as though I was still proving myself worthy of it.

Austin brushed past me, his scent grounding, warm cedar and sunlight. “They’ll keep things running,” he said quietly, catching my eye. “We’ll be fine.”

His confidence was steadying. I nodded, taking a deep breath as I turned back to the overnight bags — two small packs with clothes, basic supplies, and a few medical items. If we were lucky, we’d be back in two days. If not… I didn’t finish that thought.

After checking everything twice, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the kitchen. The scent of fresh bread and coffee wafted through the air, and Helen stood by the counter, wiping down a cutting board. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, her apron already smudged with flour.

“Morning, Luna,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “Off on another adventure?”

“Something like that,” I said, stepping beside her and starting to wrap up some food. “We’ll be gone a couple days. Just wanted to grab some things to take with us.”

She paused, studying me. “You’ll be careful?”

I gave a small nod. “Always. But while we’re gone, I need you to take it easy, Helen. Breaks, meals, the whole thing. Promise me.”

Her mouth curved into a soft laugh. “You sound like my daughter.”

“That’s because you work too hard,” I said, handing her a loaf of bread. “Please—rest. The pack needs you healthy.”

She pressed a hand to my arm, her eyes glinting with affection. “And we need you both back safe.”

I smiled, but my chest tightened. There was something grounding about Helen — she reminded me of the quiet, constant kind of strength that keeps a pack whole. I wanted to make sure she knew how much she mattered before we left.

Austin’s footsteps echoed down the hall before he appeared in the doorway, his duffel slung over his shoulder. His eyes met mine, and the faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” I said, slipping the bundle of food into my pack. “Let’s go before I start overthinking it.”

We stepped outside into the crisp morning air, the fog curling low across the fields. The compound buzzed faintly with life — early risers, guards changing shifts, the faint sound of someone chopping wood near the edge of the property. It felt strange to leave it behind, even for a short while.

The stables were already open, the horses stirring as they sensed us approach. I walked straight to my mare, Rhea, her silvery-gray coat glimmering faintly in the light. She snorted softly when she saw me, pressing her nose against my shoulder as if she knew we were about to do something dangerous.

Austin was beside his horse, a deep chestnut stallion named Titan. The way he moved around the animal — calm, confident, respectful — always reminded me how much he belonged to this life.

“You think the dagger’s really there?” I asked, adjusting Rhea’s saddle.

Austin glanced at me, tightening the strap on Titan’s gear. “Every instinct I have says yes. And after what we saw in that vision… I trust yours too.”

That simple sentence made something flutter in my chest. He didn’t doubt me, not for a second.

When the horses were ready, I swung up onto Rhea’s back and turned to look at the pack house one more time. Marcus and Leo stood on the porch, arms crossed like proud parents.

“Don’t crash the place while we’re gone,” Austin called out.

“No promises!” Marcus yelled back, earning a chuckle from Leo.

“If anything happens,” I said, “there’s a list on the fridge with the main responsibilities. And Helen—”

“—will rest,” Marcus interrupted, grinning. “Got it, Luna. Now get going before you start making more rules.”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled. It felt good to laugh before heading into the unknown.

Austin urged Titan forward, and I followed, the steady rhythm of hooves striking the dirt road filling the air. The mist began to lift as the sun crept higher, turning the world golden. The forest loomed ahead, ancient and silent, its shadows still holding the memory of Lima and Nathan’s tragedy.

We rode in silence for a while, letting the quiet speak for us. Birds called somewhere in the distance, and the smell of pine and earth filled the space between us.

After a while, Austin glanced over his shoulder at me. “You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking,” I said softly. “About Lima. About how it must’ve felt to love someone so deeply only for them to destroy you.”

His jaw tightened. “He was weak. Power-hungry. You’re nothing like her situation, Elara.”

I smiled faintly. “Maybe. But I still feel like she’s trying to tell me something — something about what comes next.”

He reached over, brushing his hand against mine as our horses slowed side by side. “Then we’ll listen. Together.”

The word together felt like a promise.

By the time the sun was fully above the trees, the road had narrowed into a forest trail. The air grew cooler, thicker with the scent of moss and rain-soaked bark. The path curved downward, leading toward the stream Elara had seen in her vision.

Austin stopped his horse, scanning the area. “We’re getting close.”

I could feel it too — a hum beneath my skin, a pulse in the air that made the hair on my arms rise. It wasn’t fear exactly. It was energy, old and waiting.

I reached down and touched the book tucked safely in my pack. “We’re coming, Lima,” I whispered.

Austin looked over at me, his expression soft but determined. “Let’s find that dagger and put this story to rest.”

With that, we urged our horses forward, deeper into the woods — toward the heart of the past and whatever waited for us beneath the ancient oak.