We will be there before nightfall.

We will be there before nightfall.
Darius’s POV

The sun hangs low in the sky, a pale, cold fire that does little to warm the land, its light stretched thin across the peaks as though even it fears the shadow that festers in these mountains. Three days. Only three remain until the blood moon rises, until its crimson glow crowns the night and grants power to both light and dark alike, and every step we take toward that fate feels heavier, sharper, as though the earth itself knows the weight of what is coming.
The Lycans march at my back, their strength restored, their bodies no longer burdened by the wounds of the last battle, yet I see in their eyes a weariness deeper than flesh, the kind of fatigue born not from torn muscle or broken bone, but from the endless drumbeat of war, from the knowledge that this fight is not just for victory but for survival. Even so, they move with purpose, their strides steady, their howls echoing in the valley to remind us that we are not prey skulking through shadows but predators hunting down the heart of our enemy.
At my side, Aria walks with her chin lifted, her glow subdued for now but never gone, a quiet strength radiating from her that steadies me more than I let her know. Her presence is the counterweight to the darkness pressing down from the peaks, her very breath a promise that the light will not falter even when the night grows long, and I see the warriors glance toward her as though drawing unseen courage simply by walking in her shadow. She does not speak, but she does not need to. Her silence is its own vow.
Florence follows close, her witches cloaked in silver-threaded robes that shimmer faintly in the waning light, their voices murmuring incantations that weave through the ranks like threads of steel, binding us tighter, steadying hearts that might tremble, shielding minds that might fracture beneath the weight of Lilith’s whispers. They are not warriors in the way my Lycans are, but they are guardians all the same, and I would not march into this darkness without them.
The path narrows as we ascend, stone cliffs rising on either side, jagged edges cutting at the sky like broken teeth. Somewhere ahead, hidden among the peaks, lies the cave where Lilith and Ethan lick their wounds, gathering what shadows remain to them, calling to creatures of the dark who linger in the cracks of the world. We know she is trying to recruit more, that she whispers promises into the void, but even the boldest of them hesitate, for they have tasted Aria’s light, they have seen my wolves tear down those who dared stand against us. Fear works in our favour, yet I know fear alone will not stop Lilith, not when she wields the Heart of Hades.
The air grows colder as we climb, the kind of chill that settles into bone, but the heat of anticipation burns hotter than the wind can touch. My sword rests against my back, but my hand never strays far from the hilt. Every instinct tells me we are walking into danger, that the closer we draw to her den, the more desperate she will become, and desperation makes enemies unpredictable.
I glance at Aria, catching the faint furrow of her brow, the way her fingers twitch as though she feels the pull of something only she can sense. She meets my gaze, and for a heartbeat, I see the truth there. She feels Lilith’s darkness, knows it is close, knows it coils in the caves ahead like a serpent waiting to strike. I give a short nod, nothing more, and she understands. There is no need for words between us in this moment. By nightfall, we will reach the cave.
The thought steadies me even as it unsettles me. It is better to strike now, before the blood moon rises, before its crimson crown grants Lilith the strength to match Aria’s growing light. Yet I know what it means to face her here, in the heart of her shadows, where every stone and whisper bends toward her. It is no small thing we march into.
“King Darius,” one of my captains calls from the front, his voice carrying above the crunch of boots and claws against stone. “Scouts report the pass narrows further ahead. If she means to ambush us, it will be there.”
I nod, already having considered it. “Double the guard at the flanks. No one strays from the line. If shadows rise, burn them with silver.”
The command ripples down the ranks, shields shifting, weapons readied, eyes narrowing as warriors prepare for whatever may come. They trust me, every one of them, not because I am flawless but because I do not falter, because I carry their oaths as my own. After all, I will bleed and die at their side before I ever abandon them. That trust is the heart of our strength, and it is why we will not fall, not to Lilith, not to Ethan, not to the stone that beats with stolen power.
The light fades further, the sky deepening into violet and indigo, the first stars blinking weakly above the peaks. The shadows lengthen, crawling across the path as though reaching for us, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. She knows we are close. She feels us, just as Aria feels her. The bond between enemies is as sharp as the bond between mates, and I know she is watching, waiting, perhaps even smiling in her darkness at the thought of our approach.
Aria steps closer to me, her voice low, just enough for me to hear over the steady march. “She is calling to them,” she whispers, her tone edged with unease. “The rogues, the twisted ones, even the things that crawl where no moonlight reaches. I can feel them stirring.”
I glance at her, at the worry in her eyes, and answer with calm certainty, though I feel the weight of her warning as heavily as my own armour. “Then we will silence her call. Tonight.”
Her lips part as though to argue, but she says nothing, only nods, her light flickering faintly in answer to the shadows pressing from ahead. I know she fears what is coming, but she does not waver, and that steadiness steels me more than any blade in my hand. The scouts return with word of the cave, less than a league ahead, smoke curling faintly from its mouth, a sign that those within are not hiding but preparing, daring us to come. So be it. We will not shy away. We will meet them head-on, here, in the mountains, beneath the waning sky, three days before the blood moon rises.
I raise my hand, signalling the march to slow, the rumble of boots and claws softening as the warriors fall into silence. The only sound is the whisper of wind across stone and the faint thrum of my heartbeat in my ears. I look toward the jagged outline of the cave, dark against the last light of dusk, and I know with a certainty carved into my bones that this night will be the beginning of the end. Not for us but for Lilith and her darkness.