The first thing Aiden became aware of...
wasn't sight.
It wasn't sound.
It wasn't even pain.
It was touch.
Cold.
Hard stone pressed against his back.
Rough enough to scrape his skin through the thin fabric covering him.
Something heavy circled both wrists.
Metal.
Cold.
Unmoving.
Chains.
A faint breeze drifted across his face.
Warm.
Almost gentle.
Carrying the lingering heat of a summer night.
Wrong.
The thought came before he could understand why.
He should have been warm.
Nestled against Theron's broad chest.
One arm wrapped securely around his waist.
Three little bodies somehow taking up far more room than should have been possible.
Kael kicking blankets away in his sleep.
Ryn quietly stealing them back.
Lior pretending he didn't like cuddling, only to wake up pressed against one of them every morning.
Instead...
there was only stone.
Iron.
And emptiness.
Theron...?
Nothing answered.
Not even the bond.
His heartbeat quickened.
Then—
hands.
Large hands grabbed both of his arms.
Not careful.
Not loving.
Not familiar.
They dug painfully into his skin.
Holding him as though he might bolt at any moment.
Aiden flinched instinctively.
His hearing returned next.
The rustling of leaves overhead.
Crickets singing somewhere beyond the trees.
A crackling fire.
Voices.
Men.
Many of them.
"...Still asleep?"
"He took longer than expected."
"Don't loosen the chains."
"He'll wake soon enough."
The voices were unfamiliar.
Every one of them.
His nose twitched.
The scents came all at once.
Fresh earth.
Pine.
Smoke.
Summer flowers.
Then...
wolves.
Too many.
Dozens of unfamiliar scents crowded together until they almost made him dizzy.
Not his pack.
Not Ronan.
Not Eirik.
Not...
Not home.
His breathing caught.
No...
Slowly...
carefully...
Aiden opened his eyes.
Moonlight spilled through towering trees.
Silver beams danced across ancient stone ruins surrounding him.
A massive altar stood in the center of a clearing.
Weathered by countless years.
Covered in symbols he had never seen...
yet somehow felt he should recognize.
Around it stood wolves.
Men and women dressed in furs and woven cloth.
Some carried spears.
Others held torches.
All of them watched him.
No one smiled.
No one looked relieved that he had awakened.
They looked...
expectant.
One older wolf stepped closer.
His gray eyes studied Aiden as if examining livestock before a trade.
"He's awake."
The words spread quietly through the gathered crowd.
"He lives."
"Good."
"The offering must be conscious."
Offering.
The word struck Aiden harder than the chains around his wrists.
His pulse quickened.
"No..."
he whispered.
The old wolf frowned.
Aiden looked around frantically.
Searching.
For silver hair.
For amber eyes.
For moonlight.
For anyone familiar.
Nothing.
Only strangers.
His gaze dropped to himself.
Gone were the clothes he'd worn during the battle.
Gone was the silver half-moon necklace.
Gone was everything.
Instead...
a simple cream-colored robe hung loosely from his shoulders.
The fabric rough.
Undyed.
Plain.
Like ceremonial clothing.
The chain around his wrists clinked softly as he moved.
Real.
Heavy.
Impossible to ignore.
Aiden's breathing became uneven.
This wasn't a dream.
This wasn't Nyx's illusion.
And somewhere deep within his soul...
a forgotten memory stirred.
Not of a place.
But of a feeling.
Waiting.
Fear.
And looking up at the moon...
knowing someone was coming for him.