The battlefield stank of smoke, iron, and wet fur. Wolves padded over corpses, their flanks slick with blood that was not all enemy's. The ground itself had been torn open, gouged by claws, scorched by fire, drowned by flood. And yet, despite the chaos, the banners of the Church still stood, their flames unquenched.
The High Cardinal had not entered the fray. He remained on a hill overlooking the valley, his black-gold armor untouched, his crimson robes spread across his saddle like a river of blood. His eyes gleamed with unholy patience. For all the wolves' fury, for all the Siren's destruction, he knew battles were not won by claws and swords alone.
They were won by breaking the mind.
The Cardinal raised a hand.
At his signal, the Seraph Blades who had not yet fallen ceased their assault. Their burning swords dipped low, their hymns fading into silence. Confusion rippled through the battlefield as wolves hesitated, breath heaving, ears flat, eyes narrowing. The pause was unnatural. Battle was never supposed to stop like this.
And into that silence came a new sound.
Not steel. Not flame. A voice.
It carried clear and cold across the valley, cutting through the smoke like a knife. The Cardinal's voice.
"Dominic Blackfang."
The Alpha froze mid-step, blood dripping from his claws. His head lifted sharply, golden eyes narrowing toward the hill.
The Cardinal's smile spread. "Come forth, beast." His words were wrapped in something that was not mere sound—something binding, weighty. A spell woven from centuries of ritual, drawn from the marrow of faith and blood.
The wolves nearest Dominic flinched as the command slid through the air, pressing like a hand against their throats. But Dominic did not bow. His chest rumbled with a growl that shook the air.
Beside him, Seraphina caught his arm, her grip iron despite her trembling. "Don't listen. It's not a challenge—it's a trap."
His eyes snapped to her, glowing hotter, harder. "If I ignore it, the pack will think I fear him." His voice was gravel.
"You are Alpha," she hissed, her voice low but searing. "Your strength isn't in answering every provocation. It's in protecting your own."
But already, the spell was clawing deeper, dragging at Dominic's wolf. His instincts howled at him: answer the voice, rip the throat, prove dominance. It was the oldest truth of his kind—challenge could not go unanswered.
The Cardinal saw the struggle and smiled wider. "The wolf cowers behind the Siren's skirts. Perhaps he is not Alpha after all. Perhaps he is only her hound."
The words slid like poison into the air. And the wolves heard them.
A ripple moved through the pack, subtle but dangerous. Wolves glanced at Dominic, ears twitching, questions flickering in their eyes. Doubt. Doubt was deadlier than silver.
Dominic's snarl ripped free, savage, primal. He stepped forward, but Seraphina's fingers dug into his chest. "No! That's what he wants—you breaking formation, leaving them open."
Her voice was desperate, but Dominic's body trembled under the weight of instinct.
The Cardinal's laughter rolled across the valley, smooth as silk, cruel as a blade. "Ah, I see. The great Alpha leashed by a woman's song. Wolves, tell me—what leader kneels to a Siren? What beast shares his throne with a temptress who sings of ruin?"
The words struck like arrows. Wolves bristled. Some growled low in their throats—not at Dominic, not at Seraphina, but at the unease spreading in their own hearts. Unity was fragile. The Cardinal knew exactly where to drive his wedge.
Dominic roared, a sound that split the very air, silencing all other noise. His chest heaved, his fangs bared, his body shaking with rage. He wanted nothing more than to tear the man from his horse and drag him bleeding through the dirt.
But Seraphina moved closer, her forehead pressing against his chest, her lips near his ear. "If you give him what he wants, he wins. You'll fight him—but not now, not on his terms. Do you hear me? Not on his terms."
Her words coiled through him like a balm, soothing the wolf even as the spell clawed deeper. His heart thundered, but her touch anchored him, her voice threading into his blood. Slowly, painfully, he forced his claws to unclench.
His voice when it came was low, dangerous. "He wants me to bow to his game."
"Yes," Seraphina whispered. "So you make your own."
The Cardinal's smile faltered slightly when Dominic did not advance. His eyes narrowed. "Defiant, then. So be it. You would not come to me—then I will come to you."
He raised his staff, its top a sun wrought from burning gold. Light burst from it, a beam that speared the ground at Dominic's feet. The earth cracked. The wolves flinched back, yelping as fire licked their paws.
From the rift rose chains—chains not of silver, not of iron, but of light itself. They slithered up like serpents, striking for Dominic's limbs.
He snarled and leapt aside, but one coiled around his wrist, searing into his flesh. Pain flared white-hot, his roar shaking the valley. Another chain struck, wrapping around his leg. His body jerked, dragged toward the burning fissure.
"Dom!" Seraphina cried, throwing her hands up. Her voice surged out, song like a tidal wave. The chain cracked, sparks flying, but the magic resisted. It was not man-made. It was forged from devotion, fed by thousands of praying tongues.
More chains lashed out, tangling Dominic, dragging him toward the earth that yawned beneath his feet. The wolves lunged to help, biting, clawing, but each who touched the chains burst into flame, their howls piercing the night.
"Seraphina!" Dominic roared, his golden eyes blazing as the light burned into his skin. "Sing harder!"
Her throat ached, blood flecking her lips as she poured every shred of herself into the song. Her voice climbed higher, shriller, until it was no longer human, no longer Siren, but something older, something that split the very air. The chains cracked again—one shattered, then another.
But the Cardinal was not idle. He raised his staff higher, his own voice booming. "Hear me, wolves of the valley! You kneel to a Siren who corrupts your Alpha, a witch who steals your will! Has your blood thinned so much that you follow a songbird into damnation?"
The words were poison, and this time they sank deeper. Wolves flinched. Some growled—not at the enemy, but at each other. Doubt thickened like fog.
Seraphina staggered, her song faltering for a moment as her chest burned. She saw it in their eyes—the fracture, the hesitation. Fear lanced through her. If they splintered now, they were finished.
The Cardinal's smile gleamed cruel. "You see? Even now they wonder. Even now they ask themselves—Alpha or puppet? Wolf or hound?"
Dominic bellowed, straining against the chains. His body shook, blood pouring down his arms where the light seared through flesh. His eyes found Seraphina's, wild and burning.
And in that instant, she understood.
He could not free himself—not alone. Not with brute strength. But if she gave him more—if she gave him her song, her soul, everything—he could break it.
Her hand rose, trembling, and she pressed her palm to his chest again, right over the scarred skin. Her eyes locked with his. "Take it," she whispered.
His breath hitched. "Sera—"
"Take it all." Her voice cracked, but she didn't look away. "My strength, my song, my life. Take it."
His snarl broke into something deeper, something almost human, almost broken. "You'll burn."
"Then let me burn with you."
The moment stretched. Chains tightened. Wolves growled low, uncertain. The Cardinal's eyes gleamed.
And then, Dominic roared and bent his head, pressing his mouth against Seraphina's, his fangs scraping her lips. Her song spilled into him, not through sound, but through breath, through blood, through soul. Power ignited between them, a bond forged not just of flesh but of essence.
The chains screamed.
They cracked. Shattered. Exploded into sparks of dying light.
Dominic's body erupted in golden flame—not the Church's fire, but something older, something wolf and Siren combined. His claws blazed, his eyes turned molten. The rift closed, the Cardinal's spell broken.
Silence fell for a heartbeat, stunned, trembling.
Then Dominic lifted his head and howled. It was not just a wolf's cry. It was something greater, deeper, vast enough to shake the stars. Wolves collapsed to their knees, not in submission, but in awe. Their doubt burned away in the golden fire.
Seraphina's legs gave out, her body trembling, but Dominic caught her, holding her upright. His golden eyes burned into the Cardinal's distant gaze.
"Your words don't own us," Dominic growled, his voice thunder. "Your chains don't bind us. This pack kneels to no god, no man. Only to our bond."
The Cardinal's smile had vanished. For the first time, his eyes narrowed with something colder—unease.
The war had shifted.
Not with steel. Not with fire.
With bond.