Jamie's POV
The sky was red.
Not from the crimson sun, but from blood and flame.
I was stooped low behind the gnarled branches of a fallen tree, breath held thin, heart a tempest. Andrew had instructed me to remain concealed—to be safe while they battled—but what did "safe" entail when the earth shook beneath war whoops and the stench of death filled the air?
Everywhere I looked, there was chaos.
Wolves—some wearing Furstone silver draped over their bodies, some with jagged scars and bloody fangs—tore at each other with teeth and claws. I watched warriors shifting in mid-air, bones snapping as fur broke out over their bodies. Some fought in full wolf form, snarling beauties of brutality and elegance. Others battled in human form, using silver-forged swords with deadly precision, their eyes blazing with fury and intent.
But nothing could have prepared me for this.
Rufus, the outlaw Alpha, towered over the battlefield, a boorish hump of muscle and fear. His wolf was a dark shape in motion, bear-sized, eyes like dead stars. He tore through Furstone's ranks like a hurricane, his howls summoning death behind him.
I drove fingers into the bark beside me, nails digging in. "Where are you, Andrew…"
Something shifted out of the corner of my eye—Cassian.
He fought with unquenchable fury, leading warriors as if he already were Alpha. He charged into battle like a man possessed, slaying rogues with the double-bladed sword in his right hand and claws extended in his left. He wasn't completely wolf-shape, but neither did he need to be. Each killing fed his madness.
Behind him, I saw Maelin, sending out signals with swift motions. He was causing chaos, his figure commanding, even in the darkness. I couldn't help but understand—he was fighting for them. Why? Why would the Council turn against us?
And then there was her.
Lilith.
Her movements were hypnotic. She flowed between wolf and human, her body shrouded in darkness, her claws shining with an otherworldly dark light. Each movement was measured, lovely, lethal. She fought not in anger, but in delight. The battlefield was her stage. Her red eyes met mine once, and a smile curled her blood-stained lips before she disappeared into the battle.
Furstone warriors tried to hold the lines. Caroline—gods, she fought like a shadow herself. Her strikes were quick and cruel. She moved like she knew where each enemy would be before they arrived, using her dual daggers and shifting only when necessary. I'd always seen her as Andrew's loyal friend, but tonight. Something about her felt different. Calculated. Cold. Almost too controlled.
Ann clashed at the southern perimeter, shielding the infirmary with her bow and claws. She did not shift, not entirely, but her eyes burned with fury. She slaughtered two rogues in one breath, bellowing commands to the healers who stood guarding the young.
And then—
He was there.
Andrew.
His silver wolf appeared on the field like a shooting star.
Strength seemed to emanate from him as he transitioned effortlessly between personae—man to wolf to man once more—sword an extension of desire, body a blade sharpened by purpose. His strikes were clean and true and lethal. The earth itself seemed to fall in with him, and each killing brought more power to Furstone.
The balance shifted.
Even Cassian halted, watching Andrew slicing through the ranks of rogues like a wrath of vengeance. Warriors instinctively followed him. That was Alpha power. That was what they were born to obey.
Then. Everything changed.
A burst of pure power swept across the field, throwing warriors aside like leaves.
I turned—and beheld her.
Elder Oona.
Or what she had become.
She stood in the middle of the battlefield, robes torn, hair blown back by a wind she couldn't see. Her eyes burned with an unnatural light, silver and purple. Her hands were raised, and with them was a storm of ice and flame. Real elements. Magic. The kind reserved for legends.
No… not legends. To the Lunaris.
She wasn't transforming. She didn't need to. She had control over nature itself.
Fire blazed from one fist, curling around enemies in spirals that leapt at her will. Frost stabbed from the other, plunging through flesh, encasing blood in air. She spoke incantations in a tongue I did not know—and the earth obeyed her.
I was windless.
Was Oona. Lunaris?
The realisation held me fixed to the ground.
How was this possible?
Andrew didn't notice her. He was too far into battle, too focused on keeping those around him alive. But I did. And I watched as her eyes flashed in his direction, burning with something far hotter than anger—ambition.
The fight continued, savage and unrelenting. Furstone was bleeding, even with Andrew's presence. Friends, enemies, innocents lay strewn across the earth—bodies everywhere. There was the smell of smoke and blood hanging heavy in the air. I saw a renegade plunge a silver spear into Alpha Jackson's belly. The Alpha howled in agony, countering with one final devastating swing, but he collapsed shortly after.
My hands trembled.
I was useless.
I couldn't help myself. I couldn't change. I could only stand by.
But deep inside my chest, something started to stir. A pulse. A flame. Like a memory… waiting to wake.
As suddenly as it had started, the enemy began to fall back. Rufus released a howl, calling out his warriors to flee. They fled into the night, leaving death and devastation behind.
And we were left in the stillness.
The battlefield, bathed in red, smouldered.
Andrew knelt beside his shattered father's corpse on the ground.
I was frozen, one thing shouting louder than the others.
We had lived—but just barely.
And Elder Oona, she was not what we thought she was.
She was something else altogether.
Something evil.
Something threatening.
Or worse.