They set off at dawn, traveling eastward toward the barren stretch known as the Koba Valley, nestled in the shadow of the Sunashi Mountains. A lifeless expanse battered by relentless western winds, the valley stood in stark contrast to the lush inner regions of the Moon Treasure Pack. Here, the ground was hard, dry, and cracked, and even in autumn, the wind had a way of seeping into the bones. Only sparse patches of withered grass and creeping vines clung to life during the rains, only to wither again come autumn.
No birds sang here. No wolves howled. Even animals gave the valley wide berth, and so did most werewolves—preferring to stay at least a hundred miles away.
But Eila, her mates, and a small contingent of elite warriors were heading straight into it.
Their destination: Kobal Village, the closest settlement to the rupture site and the only stronghold of civilization in that cold, sun-starved terrain. Alpha Magnus had issued clear orders—do not engage unless absolutely necessary. But Eila knew in her bones that the rift had to be sealed. And this time, she intended to do it herself—without hesitation, and without risking anyone else's life.
Her mates—Leonard and the Baldwin twins—knew better than to argue with her resolve. Instead, they had quietly vowed to be her shield if the worst came to pass.
Even the seasoned warriors accompanying them seemed uneasy. The air was different here—thinner, harsher, sharper. But they trusted their leaders. That trust gave them strength.
After two long days of travel, through wind-scoured plains and forest paths that soon gave way to frozen wastelands, they finally reached Kobal Village.
The village, nestled against the jagged rock walls of the valley, looked weather-beaten but sturdy. Village Chief Surana, a retired Royal Warrior, greeted them with the warmth of an old comrade. His broad shoulders and battle-scarred arms were a testament to the life he'd once lived.
"We've lost three in the last week," he said grimly as he led them inside. "The attacks happen without warning. Just shadows in the night… and then bodies in the morning."
The air was bitterly cold, and the wind moaned through the stone cracks. But the people, hardened by generations of survival, still wore smiles etched deep with resilience. As the chief served them hot herbal tea, he proudly told Eila of the warriors the village had given to the pack—brave, fierce, and loyal.
Eila listened, quietly admiring their spirit. She could feel something here—something raw and proud, like the soul of the land itself.
"I'd like to visit the wounded," she finally said after dinner. "Those who haven't healed."
The chief blinked. "Ah, you must be a healer?"
She nodded with polite humility, not revealing the truth. Leonard had warned her: never show your powers unless absolutely necessary. We don't know who might be listening.
Permission granted, Eila visited the makeshift infirmary, where the worst-injured warriors lay with burns, claw marks, and festering wounds. She requested to treat them in peace and silence, and the others, thinking it was healer protocol, respected her wish and left her alone.
Once the room was empty, Eila let the warm golden glow of her power pour softly from her palms. She didn't completely heal them—doing so might raise suspicions—but she lessened the pain, cleaned the infection, and accelerated their natural healing just enough that they could begin to mend on their own.
As she worked, fury bloomed in her chest. Seeing her people like this, broken and afraid, something inside her snapped.
Jeremy Soren wouldn't get away with this.
She would destroy him—piece by piece—for what he had done.
That night, the warriors volunteered to guard the village borders without taking rest. Leonard and Lukas joined them, despite having traveled nonstop for two days. Eila hated seeing them push themselves so hard, but she knew better than to argue. This was their duty, just as hers was healing… and fighting when the time came.
Zois, however, stayed behind. A room had been arranged for him near hers, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her side. The chill in the air, the foreign terrain—it put him on edge.
Eila was already lying on her small cot when she heard the soft creak of her window. She turned, and there he was, slipping inside like a silver ghost. Without a word, he bolted the window behind him and crossed the room.
"You're freezing," he murmured, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"You broke in," she teased quietly, shifting to make room.
Zois smirked and climbed in beside her. "I wasn't going to sleep anyway."
She snuggled into his chest, letting his warmth soak into her bones. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled the warm blanket over them both.
"I'll keep you safe," he whispered against her forehead.
"I know," she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed.
As sleep claimed her, she didn't feel the cold anymore—just the steady rhythm of his heart and the fire beginning to burn anew in hers.