The stars above SilverCrest burned cold and bright, scattered across the ink-dark sky like fractured promises. In the valley below, the council hall sat silent—its looming spires black against the moonlight, as if holding its breath for what tomorrow would bring.
Inside her quarters, Aria stood barefoot on the stone balcony, her cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders. The wind tugged at the golden strands of her hair, but she didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared into the dark, where justice and vengeance wore the same mask.
Behind her, the room glowed dimly with firelight. Zara stirred in a chair by the hearth, dozing lightly with a blade still strapped to her thigh. The girl—silent and spectral—slept curled against a stack of blankets, one small fist clutching Aria’s old crest pin.
The child had said nothing else since whispering her name. But every time Aria looked at her, something stirred—something old. As if fate had decided to give her memories she’d never lived.
The door creaked softly.
She turned sharply, but the figure in the doorway raised a hand in peace.
Kael.
He didn’t cross the threshold. “May I?”
She studied him in the dim glow. The bruises on his jaw had deepened to shadow. His cloak was dusted with ash. But his voice was steady. Controlled. The voice of a man walking into fire with his eyes open.
Aria nodded once.
He entered and closed the door behind him. “I thought you might not sleep tonight.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Sleep feels like a luxury for people not scheduled to be burned at the stake by council decree.”
Kael winced. “You won’t burn.”
She turned her eyes back to the valley. “I might not have a choice. You’ve seen how they turn.”
“They can’t deny what we’ve uncovered. The bond. The prophecy. My father’s confession. The sanctum—”
“The sanctum is ash,” she interrupted. “And Evelyn’s still out there.”
Kael moved to the hearth, glancing once at the girl. Then he faced Aria fully. “What would you have me do?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you asking what I want—or what would ease your guilt?”
He didn’t flinch. “Both.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Aria stepped inside, closing the balcony door with a quiet snap. The air in the room warmed instantly, but the tension didn’t fade.
“You’re not here just to talk,” she said.
Kael reached into his cloak and pulled out a sealed scroll. “It’s my personal record. Everything I know about the council’s history with the Vale line. About the pact. About Evelyn’s role.”
Aria didn’t take it. “Why give it to me?”
“Because you’ll use it,” he said simply. “I don’t trust myself not to fold when they start pressing.”
She crossed her arms. “Then don’t fold.”
His jaw tensed. “I’ve been raised to uphold them, Aria. You were raised to dismantle them.”
Finally, she took the scroll and placed it near the fire.
Kael looked at her—really looked at her. “You’re stronger than any Alpha I’ve known.”
“That’s because I never wanted the title,” she replied.
He took a breath. “There’s something else. I need you to hear it before tomorrow.”
She froze.
Kael stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I didn’t just reject the bond because Evelyn returned. I rejected it because I was afraid—afraid of what you’d see in me.”
She tilted her head. “And what is that, Kael?”
His eyes were haunted. “That even after everything… I still wanted you more than I wanted to be Alpha.”
The room held its breath.
Then Aria said, “You made your choice.”
“I did. And I lost everything that mattered.” He glanced at the girl. “Maybe it’s not too late to choose differently.”
Aria’s voice turned sharp. “This isn’t about redemption arcs or second chances. This is about protecting her. About burning the rot from the roots.”
Kael nodded slowly. “Then I’ll stand beside you. As sword or shield. Whatever you need.”
Zara stirred from her chair, eyes blinking open. “You two done growling?”
Aria smirked despite herself. “He was just leaving.”
Kael gave a half-smile. “I’ll see you in the hall tomorrow.”
As he opened the door, he hesitated. “Aria?”
She didn’t look at him. “What?”
“I’ve never feared anything more than losing you a second time.”
She said nothing.
The door shut quietly behind him.
Later that night, Aria couldn’t sleep. The fire had died down. Zara snored softly, one arm over her face. The girl had curled into her side, warm and small, her breathing steady.
But something pulled at Aria’s chest—an ache she couldn’t shake.
She rose quietly and crossed to her satchel, pulling out the scroll Kael had given her. She broke the seal and unrolled it slowly, expecting reports, dates, dry council records.
Instead, the first page was a letter.
“To Aria Vale,
If you are reading this, it means I no longer have the right to speak to you face to face.”
Her breath caught.
“I could not give you the truth when you needed it most. But I give it now, for what little it’s worth.
You are the bond I never deserved. The Luna our pack never earned.
If I had been braver, if I had believed in fate the way you did… I might have followed you when it still mattered.
But I see you now. I see the fire you’ve become. And if tomorrow ends with me dead at the council’s hand, let it be said:
I died knowing I loved you, even when I didn’t deserve to.”
—Kael”
Tears pricked at her eyes—but they didn’t fall.
Instead, she carefully rolled the scroll back up and placed it in the fire.
Let the council keep their secrets.
She would keep her fury.
