The knock came at twilight.
Not loud. Not hurried. Just three steady taps against the wooden gate of the outpost’s perimeter wall. Aria stood from her post near the fire, instincts flaring sharp. Visitors didn’t come this far without intention—and never without blood trailing behind them.
Zara met her halfway.
“Who is it?” Aria asked.
“Alone rider,” Zara said. “No scent I recognize. Claims truce.”
“That’s always how it starts.”
They approached the gate together. Behind it stood a figure cloaked in travel-worn leather, a hood pulled low over their face. The stranger said nothing, only reached up and pulled back the hood—
And Aria’s blood froze.
“Calia,” she breathed.
The last time she’d seen her, Calia had tried to sever her bond with Kael by force. She’d stood in the council circle with her silver-threaded gloves, casting illusions into Aria’s mind. And now here she was, alive, unarmed… and smiling faintly.
“I come in peace,” Calia said. “I’ve come to help.”
Zara’s blade was out in a flash. “Help who?”
Aria held up a hand.
Calia met Aria’s eyes. “You’re building something dangerous. And I want to make sure it doesn’t fall before it starts.”
They sat around the central fire hours later, after the gate was sealed and Zara reluctantly lowered her blade.
“I thought you were dead,” Aria said, arms crossed.
“I thought I would be,” Calia replied. “Evelyn didn’t like failure. She sent hunters after me.”
“You worked for her.”
“I survived her,” Calia corrected. “Like you did. Like too many of us did.”
Aria studied her carefully. Calia was thinner now, a fading scar along her collarbone, eyes darker with something like grief. Her magic—once sharp and cruel—seemed dulled by something heavier than fatigue.
“What do you want from me?” Aria asked.
“To join you,” Calia said simply.
Zara scoffed. “You expect us to believe you’ve grown a conscience?”
“No,” Calia said. “But I’ve seen what Evelyn is preparing. What the council is truly hiding.”
Aria’s chest tightened. “What do you know?”
“There’s another child.”
Silence fell.
Calia nodded slowly. “Not yours. Not Kael’s. But someone else’s. A child marked by prophecy. Born under blood moon. Hidden in StoneRidge.”
Zara’s face went pale. “That’s a myth.”
“It’s not,” Calia said. “Evelyn is keeping the child prisoner. They believe it’s the key to restoring absolute control—linking all bonds, breaking rogue lines, bending fate to the council’s will.”
Aria’s stomach churned. “You saw this child?”
“I helped hide them. Once. A long time ago.” Her voice faltered. “Now they’re being moved. Quietly. To the underground sanctum beneath the Hall of Voices.”
Aria stood, heart pounding. “You came here to tell me this?”
“I came here because I owe you,” Calia said. “And because if you fall before Evelyn is exposed, that child dies without ever seeing the sky again.”
Later that night, Aria stood at the edge of the woods, the wind tugging her hair loose. She couldn’t stop shaking—not from fear, but from the sense that something enormous had shifted.
A second heir. Another child born into this brutal game. Another pawn in Evelyn’s war.
She thought of Elara sleeping peacefully in Zara’s tent.
That could’ve been her, she thought. Still could be, if I let this go.
Footsteps approached.
Kael.
He stood beside her silently, as if unsure whether his presence would be welcome.
“Who is she to you?” he asked finally.
“No one,” Aria replied. “Not anymore.”
“Then why let her stay?”
“Because she brought truth. And that’s rare enough.”
Kael was quiet for a beat. “Do you believe her?”
“Yes.”
Kael’s jaw flexed. “You don’t think it’s a trap?”
“She didn’t come armed. She didn’t come with magic. She came alone, Kael. Like I did once.”
He looked at her then. Really looked.
And maybe for the first time, he saw her not as the mate he failed, or the girl he’d broken—but as the wolf who rose in his absence.
“What will you do?” he asked softly.
Aria’s voice was iron. “We save that child. We burn what’s left of Evelyn’s reach. And when we’re done—there won’t be a council to fear.”
The next morning, Calia stood before the gathered wolves—those loyal to Aria, those broken free from Evelyn’s grip, those still unsure where they stood.
“I’m not here for forgiveness,” Calia said. “I’m not here to pretend I was innocent. I worked for monsters. I became one, in ways I’m still trying to undo.”
She looked out at the crowd, eyes sharp but unflinching.
“But I know things you don’t. And if you let me help, I’ll make sure none of you fall the way I did.”
A beat of silence.
Then someone stepped forward. An older wolf from SilverCrest.
“We don’t trust you,” she said. “But we trust Aria.”
And that was enough.
Later, Aria found Calia outside the old training yard, watching Elara toddle through the grass.
“She’s… beautiful,” Calia said, voice quiet.
Aria nodded.
“I never imagined you’d be a mother,” Calia added.
“Neither did I,” Aria admitted. “But she’s why I haven’t burned the world down.”
Calia smiled faintly. “Yet.”
They stood there for a moment, the air thick with memory and distance.
Then Aria said, “If you cross me again, there won’t be a warning.”
Calia nodded. “I know.”
And something in her voice told Aria it wouldn’t come to that.
That night, Aria reopened the disc.
New threads of truth pulsed into view—names, orders, redacted files that only Calia’s knowledge had helped unlock.
She traced one in particular: The Blood Moon Project. Tied to Evelyn. Tied to StoneRidge. Tied to the missing child.
Everything was unraveling.
And she was finally the one holding the thread.
