The wolves gathered in the clearing beneath the ancient oak, their golden eyes watchful, their bodies tense. For the first time, they looked not only to Kael but to her.
Aradia stood at his side, her cloak whipping in the wind, her fire flickering faintly at her fingertips. She still felt the sting of betrayal, the weight of Garron's claws against Kael's chest, but she forced herself to stand tall.
Kael's voice rumbled like thunder. "We have faced shadow before, but never like this. Ronan has made himself its general. He commands an army of wolves twisted into monsters. But we will not fall. Because we have something he never will."
His green eyes slid to Aradia.
"Hope."
A murmur rippled through the pack. Some bowed their heads. Some snarled low in doubt. But Aradia stepped forward, her fire blazing higher, her voice steady.
"I have burned you before. I have made you fear me. But I tell you now—I am not your curse. I am your fire. And I will burn for you until nothing remains of the shadow."
The pack howled, their voices rising as one. For the first time, unity shimmered through them—not perfect, not unbroken, but real.
Kael's hand caught hers, rough and warm, his lips brushing her knuckles. "They follow me," he murmured, low. "But they believe in you."