KAEL POV
The corruption in my chest flared hot just as Rhydian lunged for the female.
I moved faster.
My panther instincts screamed MINE as I blocked the golden eagle bastard with my body. "Touch her and lose your hand, Stormwing."
"Try it, Nightshade." Rhydian's wings burst from his back—massive golden feathers that used to shine like metal. Now they looked dull. Dying. Just like mine. Just like all of us. "She fell from the SKY. My domain. My female."
"Your domain?" Theron Frostborn's ice-wolf pack spread out in attack formation, silver eyes glowing. "The prophecy dreams showed her to ME six months ago. Before any of you knew she existed."
The dragon—gods damn it, DRAVEN actually emerged—released another earth-shaking roar. Heat rolled off his obsidian scales in waves. Behind me, the female made a small frightened sound.
That sound cut through my rage like a blade.
She was terrified. Of US.
Twenty years of controlling my predator instincts kicked in. Twenty years of being Chief, of protecting instead of taking. I forced my beast back, made my voice gentle.
"Nobody is fighting." I didn't take my eyes off the other males, but I spoke to her. Only her. "You're safe. I promise."
"Safe?" Her voice shook. "Four giant shapeshifters are growling over me like I'm a piece of meat, and you call this SAFE?"
Rhydian flinched. Theron's ears flattened in his half-shifted state. Even Draven's massive head pulled back slightly.
She wasn't wrong.
"We're not—" I started.
"Yes, you ARE." She stood up, still hiding behind me but finding courage somewhere. "I'm a person. Not a prize. Not property. Where I come from, this would be called kidnapping. Or worse."
Where she came from. Right. She was from another world. The legends said Heartweavers came from beyond the sky, from places where females were plentiful and males were weak. Where the natural order was broken.
"In the Beastworld," I said carefully, "females choose their mates. Multiple mates for protection, because males outnumber females one hundred to one. But YOU choose. Always."
"Then why are you all acting like you've already decided?"
Damn. She was smart.
"Because you can see our cores," Theron said quietly. He'd fully shifted to human form, ice-pale and dangerous. "Because when you touched Kael's corruption, it RECOILED. Do you understand what that means?"
"That I can help you?" She peeked around my shoulder. "That doesn't mean you own me."
"It means you can save us," Rhydian breathed. "The shamans said we were dying. No cure. No hope. But YOU—"
"I'm not a miracle cure!" Her voice cracked. "I'm a biochemist who died in a lab explosion! I don't even know what I AM here!"
Silence.
Then Draven shifted.
I'd never seen him in human form. Nobody alive had. Two hundred years he'd stayed dragon, too corrupted to risk being near anyone in his more vulnerable shape.
But he shifted for HER.
The massive dragon compressed and reformed into a man who looked mid-thirties but had eyes older than our oldest trees. Scars covered his bronze skin—evidence of centuries fighting his own beast. His core was the worst I'd ever seen: more black than light, pulsing with corruption that should have killed him decades ago.
"You died," Draven said. His voice was rough from disuse. "And woke here. The Celestial Alignment pulled you between worlds because the Beastworld was dying. Because WE were dying. That's not coincidence. That's fate."
"I don't believe in fate." But the female's eyes were locked on Draven's chest. On his corrupted core. "Oh gods, you're barely holding on. How are you even alive?"
"Spite, mostly." Draven's lips twitched. Almost a smile. "And now... hope."
The female stepped out from behind me. Fully exposed to four apex predators. Completely vulnerable. And somehow braver than warriors twice her size.
"My name is Isla," she said firmly. "Not 'female.' Not 'sacred gift.' Isla. And if you want my help, you'll treat me like a person, not a possession. Understood?"
My beast purred. Strong female. Perfect mate.
I crushed that thought immediately. She was sacred. Precious. Even if she could save my life, I had no right to claim her.
"Understood," I said.
"Agreed," Theron added.
Rhydian nodded, though he looked frustrated.
Draven just stared at her like she was the sun and he'd been living in darkness for centuries. "Isla," he repeated, testing her name. "It means 'island.' Something separate. Alone."
"I prefer 'independent,'" Isla shot back.
Definitely strong.
"The other tribes will hear about this," Theron said, dragging us back to reality. "A Heartweaver falling during the Alignment? Every unmated male within a thousand miles will come to claim her."
"Then we protect her." I met each male's eyes. "All of us. Together."
"You want to SHARE?" Rhydian's wings flared. "With HIM?" He pointed at Draven.
"I want her to SURVIVE," I snarled. "Males will challenge us. Tribes will go to war. If we're fighting each other, we can't protect her from the real threats."
"What threats?" Isla demanded.
I hesitated. How much should I tell her?
A howl split the night—but not from Theron's pack. This howl was wrong. Corrupted. Feral.
"Down!" I grabbed Isla and pulled her behind a tree just as a massive wolf burst from the forest.
But this wasn't a normal beast. Black corruption oozed from its eyes and mouth. Its core was completely dark—no light left. Just void and hunger.
"Feral," Theron whispered. "Completely gone."
The corrupted wolf's mad eyes locked on Isla. It SCREAMED—a sound no natural wolf could make—and charged.
All four of us moved to intercept, but the corrupted beast was fast. Desperate. It crashed through our defense, jaws snapping at Isla.
She didn't scream. Didn't run.
She pressed her hand against her own chest, and LIGHT exploded outward.
Pure, golden light that slammed into the corrupted wolf and BURNED. The beast shrieked and tried to retreat, but the light wrapped around it like chains. I watched in shock as the corruption was literally pulled OUT of the wolf's body—black tendrils ripped away like poison being sucked from a wound.
The wolf collapsed, whimpering. Clean. Healed. Its core glowed pure silver again.
Isla fell to her knees, gasping.
I caught her before she hit the ground. "How did you—"
"I don't know," she panted. "I just... felt it attacking and reacted. Like my body knew what to do even if my brain didn't."
The healed wolf shifted into a young male, maybe eighteen, crying with relief. "Thank you," he sobbed. "Thank you, I couldn't control it, I was losing myself—"
"Who corrupted you?" Draven's voice was deadly quiet. "This wasn't natural. Someone MADE you feral."
The boy's eyes went wide with fear. "I don't—I can't—she'll kill me if I tell—"
"Who?" I demanded.
"The Shaman," he whispered. "The one from the Dead Lands. She said the Heartweaver would come, and we had to drive her away before she bonded with anyone. She said—" He gasped, clutching his throat.
Black marks spread across his skin like poison.
"NO!" Isla lunged forward, trying to heal him again, but it was too fast.
The boy looked at her with dying eyes. "Run," he choked out. "She's coming for you. The Shaman who survived. The one who—"
His words cut off as the corruption reached his heart.
He died in my arms. Clean core turned black in seconds.
"Someone just murdered him," Theron said, ice coating his words. "To keep him quiet."
Isla's face went white. "There's a Shaman who can corrupt people remotely? Who can KILL them from a distance?"
"Not just any Shaman," Draven said. His ancient eyes were dark with old pain. Old memory. "He said 'the one who survived.' There's only one Shaman powerful enough to do this."
"Who?" I demanded.
Draven met my eyes. "Morana Blackthorn. The previous Heartweaver. The one who went mad after her mates died. Everyone thought she died in the Beast Wars two hundred years ago."
"But she didn't die," Isla whispered. "She's alive. And she just killed someone to keep me from knowing she exists."
Rhydian's wings flared. "If she's threatened by Isla—"
"Then she knows exactly what Isla is," I finished grimly. "And she'll do anything to stop her."
A raven landed on the dead boy's chest. Its eyes glowed wrong—corrupted.
Then it spoke in a woman's voice, old and bitter:
"Welcome to the Beastworld, little Heartweaver. I've been waiting for you. Let's see how long you survive what killed me."
The raven exploded into black smoke.
And Isla's nose started bleeding.
Not regular blood. BLACK blood.
She touched it, stared at her fingers in horror. "What's happening to me?"
"She marked you," Draven breathed. "Corruption signature. She can track you now. Find you anywhere."
Isla looked at the four of us with fear and desperate trust in her eyes.
"Then I guess you'd better teach me how to survive," she said.
And passed out in my arms.