The scent of blood always warned her before battle.Not others'. Her own.
The memory of fire and injustice made her feel ready.
Aria stood atop the rock, higher than all the others, but refused to see herself as an Alpha.Her wolves — exiled, wounded, angry — stared at her in silence.
"They're coming," she said.
Her voice was low and calm, but the tension in her tone was sharp and chilling.
Loren, former Beta and her right hand, approached her silently.
"They're noble, Aria. They fight professionally. We can't beat them in numbers."
"Loren is right. We're not ready for this battle," said a young wolf, Fel.
"We are strong, and we are on our land. Do not doubt the strength of our pack."
"So how are we going to do this?" Loren asked her.
"The original plan will do. What do you say?"
They all nodded, and once she had Loren's confirmation, Aria said:
"Take your positions. Today, we show why the exiled didn't die and why we belong to no one."
She leapt from the rock without a sound and began to glide like a shadow between the trees until she reached the main force.
Before her stood fifteen strong men, still unaware of her presence.
Without a trace of fear, Aria took a deep breath and howled.
Not like a human, nor like a wolf.
It was The Cry — ancient, raw, dark.
A sound that spread panic. That shattered order and command.
That struck the mind, not the body.
The soldiers around her shook.
Some buckled at the knees.
Others clutched their heads.
Two fell to the ground screaming — lost in the chaos of their own minds.
Her own wolves were unaffected.
They had been chosen and trained to withstand The Cry.
Aria sprang from the shadows and threw her blade.
It pierced the chest of a noble fighter.
A powerful warrior from her side, Drav, transformed first.
A wolf-shaped body, fur dark as a moonless night, lunged at the enemy.
Battle erupted. Her comrades emerged from all sides. Around her, chaos. A brutal war raged. Some fought with swords, others in their wolf forms.
The cries, the clash of iron, the sound of claws and teeth tearing flesh — it was a crashing wave of death.
Aria's wolves wore no armour, but they had rage, knowledge of the terrain, and a purpose drawn from their blood.
The battle raged, and many enemies fell wounded. But more kept coming.
Aria ducked behind a trunk. She felt everything — their position, their movement patterns, their illusion of invincibility.
"Finish them," she spoke directly into her pack's minds. Prepared for this moment, they drove their swords into the wounded soldiers.
"There are 24. Hold the formation. Aria, I found him. Point Z," Loren said, echoing through their minds.
"Fel, Isabel — to Point C. Drav, lead the rest. Loren, with me." she said leaving the battlefield.
⸻
Aria sprinted up a steep slope.
Her steps were swift, her target burned into her mind. If she killed him, victory would be theirs.
Loren appeared in his wolf form.
When he reached her, Aria jumped onto his back. She gripped his golden fur tightly, her body pressed to his spine.
With astonishing speed, they reached five men.
Aria emerged from the shadows and threw a knife that lodged into one enemy's shoulder before he could even realize they were there. Loren lunged at the soldiers, and a fierce fight began.
Aria turned and scanned them.
Among them, one figure stood out —
Tall, clad in silver armor, a black tunic marked with the royal seal.
The heir. Kain.
Eyes like a storm.
A gaze that searched for something.
Aria felt him. Not saw. Not heard.
Felt.
A force in her chest told her: He is here.
When their eyes met, everything stopped.
The earth seemed to hold its breath.
Time hesitated.
As if they were alone in the world.
Aria froze.A warmth spread from within.
A current, a recognition.
Mate.
She didn't say it. She violently shoved the foreign feeling down, tightened her grip on her sword — and lunged at him.
He didn't move. He waited.
And at the last moment, shifted — with a movement so swift, so controlled, it resembled a dance.
Their blades clashed. The impact was powerful. But not as much as the shock of contact.
For a fraction of a second, they looked at each other.
He saw the woman with eyes filled with fire.
She saw the man whose gaze could cool that fire.
Mate.
Then — sound, pain, movement again.
The battle raged on. Neither backed down. But neither struck again.
The air was thick with sweat, earth, and blood. The fight continued — but balance had broken. Aria could hear the voices of her comrades in her mind.
Some were injured. Others were retreating.The battle had been partly won… but not everywhere.
Suddenly, someone struck her from behind. She staggered. Kain shouted No! instinctively. But it was too late. She felt her body go limp. He threw his sword aside and caught her.
Aria fell unconscious.