Chapter 45: Someone She Loves
Kael stood as he watched the smoke from the fire long after the fire had been put out.
The air still stank of burned grain and wet ash, clinging to his lungs with every breath. Around him, his soldiers kicked through blackened debris, and the servants dragging what little could be salvaged from the ruins, they all worked in tense silence.
The once big supply barns lay collapsed, and their wooden frames has been reduced to skeletal remains.
This was not a raid.
This was a message.
Kael’s jaw tightened as he stared at the destruction. The food that was meant to last through winter, and the ones reserved that is meant to sustain his armies are all gone in a single night.
What's more worse than the loss was the precision. They hadn’t burned everything but they had burned enough.
Enough to hurt them. Enough to warn them.
“Who did this?” Kael demanded coldly.
The man beside him flinched. “We… we don’t know yet, alpha. The guards on the eastern route were taken quietly. No alarms. No survivors.”
Kael turned slowly, his eyes were like sharpened steel. “No survivors,” he repeated. “Then how do you know anything at all?”
The man swallowed. “There were tracks. Wolves. Several. But not pack-marked. Rogues, perhaps.”
Kael scoffed. “Rogues don’t plan like this.”
He crouched and picked up a handful of ash, letting it sift through his fingers. His mind worked relentlessly, piecing together the patterns.
The fires had started at three points, they were far enough apart to confuse, close enough to overwhelm response teams. Whoever had done this knew his patrol routes. Knew where the supplies were most vulnerable. Knew how to strike without being seen.
This was strategy.
Kael rose slowly.
“There is a new Alpha challenging us,” he said.
The words fell like stones.
The men around him exchanged uneasy glances.
“One who believes he is clever,” Kael continued. “One who thinks shadows make him untouchable.”
His thoughts drifted back to the rumors he had dismissed weeks ago.
About a broken kingdom. An old mansion. A new alpha and his name was whispered by frightened travelers.
Lucian.
Kael’s lip curled.
“So,” he murmured, “you survived after all.”
Lucian was his step brother and rival.
Kael turned sharply. “Bring me the scouts. All of them.”
Within minutes, three wolves stood before him, tensed and wary.
“I want you to track them,” Kael said. “And tell me what you found.”
One stepped forward reluctantly. “They covered their scent well, alpha. But... they weren’t careless.”
Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“They wanted to be followed,” the scout admitted. “Not directly, but just enough. They burned one path, but left another untouched. Like they were testing how we would respond.”
Kael’s mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
“A challenge,” he said softly.
He turned away, pacing. “Lucian always did crave control. Even as a boy.”
That was when he noticed it.
A strip of dark cloth lying near the edge of the field, half-buried in soot.
Kael bent and picked it up.
It was leather. Reinforced stitching. Singed at the edges.
His thumb brushed over it, and something sharp flickered behind his eyes.
“This belonged to one of them,” he said.
The scouts stiffened.
Kael lifted the cloth, studying it carefully. “No, this belonged to him.”
He could almost feel it—the faint echo of power, of authority, clinging to the fabric like a lingering heartbeat.
Lucian’s.
Kael chuckled, low and humorless.
“You’ve grown careless,” he said to the empty air. “Or arrogant.”
He turned to his commander. “Double the patrols. I want every road watched. Every border sniffed.”
“Yes, my king.”
“And send word to the inner council,” Kael added. “We have to prepare.”
The commander hesitated. “Prepare for what, sire?”
Kael’s gaze lifted toward the dark horizon, where smoke still smudged the sky.
“War,” he said simply.
\---
That night, Kael stood alone in his private chamber, staring at a map spread across the table.
Pins marked territories—some loyal, some uncertain, some dangerously quiet.
Bookthorn Kingdom.
The name had reached him only hours earlier, carried by trembling messengers.
Shadowmoon Pack.
Kael’s fingers curled slowly.
“Rebranding won’t save you, Lucian.” he muttered.
He reached for a goblet of wine but paused when he felt it.
A faint tug.
Not magic.
Not a spell.
A presence.
Like something brushing the edge of his awareness.
Kael straightened, senses sharpening.
“Come out,” he said calmly.
The shadows near the far wall shifted.
A figure stepped forward, he was hooded, face partially hidden, movements unnervingly smooth.
“You’re late,” Kael said without turning.
The figure bowed slightly. “The fires delayed me.”
Kael’s eyes hardened. “Did he order this?”
The figure hesitated.
That was enough answer.
Kael slammed his palm onto the table, rattling the goblet. “He’s already making moves without consulting his Luna,” he said, voice sharp with contempt. “Predictable.”
The figure tilted their head. “That may be a weakness.”
Kael laughed softly. “Or an opportunity.”
He turned at last, studying the hooded figure. “Tell me, how much does Aria know?”
“Nothing,” the figure replied. “Not yet.”
Kael smiled then. Not wide. Not cruel.
Satisfied.
“Good,” he said. “Then we’ll make sure she learns the truth the hard way.”
The figure shifted uneasily. “You intend to strike back immediately?”
Kael shook his head. “No. That’s what he expects.”
He lifted the strip of burned cloth from the table, letting it dangle between his fingers.
“We don’t burn kingdoms,” he said quietly. “We fracture them.”
He looked up sharply. “Send a message.”
“To whom?” the figure asked.
“To the Shadowmoon Pack,” Kael replied. “But not through Lucian.”
A pause.
“Through Aria.”
The figure’s breath hitched.
Kael’s smile returned, thin and dangerous.
“Let her know,” he said, “that the next fire won’t be supplies.”
He turned back to the map, placing the strip of cloth directly over Bookthorn Kingdom.
“It will be someone she loves.”