Kael Stormfang's POV
The blood trail leads me deeper into the Dead Woods, where even prey animals won't go.
Smart animals, anyway.
I crouch low, studying the massive paw prints in the mud. Each one is the size of my head. The creature that made these tracks killed three of my wolves last night—Renn, Tala, and young Jax, who was supposed to get mated next moon. I found their bodies this morning, torn apart so badly I could barely recognize them.
The Feral beast didn't even eat them. It killed for fun.
My curse scars pulse with hot pain down my right side, reminding me that I'm hunting something I might not survive. Five years of living with this curse has taught me to ignore the pain, but today it's worse. The beast I'm tracking is bigger than any Feral I've faced. Stronger. More insane.
I don't care.
It killed my pack. My family. And I will rip its throat out or die trying.
A roar echoes through the trees—close, so close my bones vibrate with it. I bare my teeth and growl back, letting my wolf rise to the surface. My muscles expand, claws extend, and the world sharpens into crystal clarity. Every scent becomes information. Every sound tells a story.
The Feral beast crashes through the undergrowth ahead, and I see it clearly for the first time.
Ancestors save me. It's huge.
Tiger-striped fur covers a body that's more monster than animal. Foam drips from jaws filled with teeth like daggers. But it's the eyes that make my blood run cold—glowing red with pure madness, no intelligence left inside. Just hunger and rage and pain.
This is what the curse does. It takes us and turns us into that.
This is what I'll become someday if I can't find a cure.
The Feral spots me and roars again, the sound so loud it shakes leaves from the trees. It charges, and I tense to meet it head-on—
Then the sky tears open.
I don't have words for what happens next. The air above me rips like fabric, and light pours out—impossible light, gold and silver and colors that hurt to look at. Something falls through that tear in reality.
Someone.
A female.
She's tumbling through the air, crashing through branches, her arms flailing as she tries to grab something, anything. She's wearing white clothes I've never seen before—thin and strange, already torn from the branches. Her black hair whips around her face.
And then her scent hits me.
I forget how to breathe.
Sweet like honey. Pure like mountain snow. Warm like sunshine on my fur. It slams into my chest like a physical blow, and every instinct I have—wolf and man—rises up and screams:
MINE.
The word echoes in my skull, louder than thought, stronger than reason. My curse scars suddenly stop hurting for the first time in five years. The constant burning pain that's lived in my body since my first mate died just... vanishes.
How?
The Feral beast roars and changes direction, charging at the falling female instead of me.
No.
I don't think. I just move.
My legs launch me forward faster than I've ever run. The world blurs. The Feral is closer to her, but I'm faster, pushing my body past its limits. She's almost to the ground, her eyes wide with terror as she sees the monster rushing at her—
I catch her.
My arms close around her fragile body just as the Feral's claws slash through the air where she was. We hit the ground rolling, and I wrap myself around her, taking the impact with my back. She's so small in my arms. So breakable. Her heart pounds against my chest like a frightened bird.
And ancestors help me, holding her feels right. Like finding something I didn't know I'd lost.
The Feral skids to a stop and spins toward us, foam flying from its jaws. I push the female behind me and rise to my full height, letting my wolf take over completely. My body grows larger, stronger. My face shifts into something between man and beast.
I growl words in the old tongue: "Touch her and face the Storm."
The Feral doesn't understand. It doesn't care. It just wants to kill.
It leaps.
I meet it in the air, my claws sinking into its corrupted flesh. We crash to the ground in a tangle of teeth and fur. It's stronger than me—the madness gives it inhuman power—but I'm fighting for something now. Not revenge. Not duty.
Her.
I rip into the beast's throat, ignoring its claws tearing into my shoulders. My curse scars are burning again, worse than before, black veins spreading down my arm. The Feral's corruption is trying to infect me, to push me closer to the edge of madness I've been fighting for years.
I don't stop.
With a final twist, I tear out its throat. The Feral collapses, twitching, then goes still.
I stand over its body, panting, blood dripping from a dozen wounds. The curse scars are spreading faster now, black lines crawling across my chest like poison vines. My vision blurs. My legs shake.
I'm going to pass out. Maybe die. The infection is too much, too fast—
Soft hands touch my shoulder.
The female. She's standing, even though her ankle is clearly broken. Tears stream down her face, but her jaw is set with determination. Her brown eyes meet mine, and I see something in them I haven't seen in years.
Compassion. Not fear. Not worship. Just... caring.
"Let me help," she whispers, even though she can't possibly understand what's happening to me.
Her hands press against my curse scars—
And the world explodes with golden light.
Power surges through me like lightning, like fire, like every good thing I've forgotten existed. The curse scars scream and retreat, the black veins shrinking back, the burning pain dissolving into nothing. Five years of agony vanish in heartbeats.
I gasp and fall to my knees.
The pain is gone. Gone. The constant weight I've carried since my first mate died, the shadow of madness always lurking at the edge of my mind—all of it has been burned away by this impossible female's touch.
I stare up at her. She's staring at her own glowing hands like she can't believe what she's seeing.
Around us, my wolves emerge from the trees. Gray, my Second, drops to his belly immediately, his eyes wide with shock. The others follow, all of them bowing low.
"Alpha," Gray breathes, his voice shaking. "She's... she's the Blessed One. The one from the prophecies."
My heart stops.
The Blessed One. Born once every thousand years. The only being who can cure the Feral curse.
I look at the female again—really look at her. She's terrified and confused, clearly not from our world. She doesn't understand what she just did. Doesn't know what she is.
But I know. And so do my wolves. And soon, every tribe in the Beastworld will know.
They'll come for her. All of them. They'll fight wars to possess her, to own her healing power, to claim her as their own.
I rise slowly, my body still tingling with the absence of pain. The female backs up a step, her broken ankle making her stumble. I catch her before she falls, and she freezes in my arms.
"You're mine now," I tell her in my language, knowing she can't understand the words but hoping she hears the promise in my voice. "I will protect you. Nothing will take you from me. Nothing."
Her eyes search mine, and I see her trying to decide if I'm a threat or salvation.
Before she can speak, a new scent hits the wind.
My blood turns to ice.
Snake Tribe. At least twenty warriors, moving fast through the forest. They must have sensed her power when she healed me—that burst of golden light probably called every beastman within ten miles like a beacon.
And at the front of that approaching group, I recognize the scent of the one beastman I hoped I'd never face again.
Zephyr Nightscale. The Snake assassin who's been half-Feral for eight years, barely clinging to sanity, the most dangerous male in the Eastern Territories.
He's coming straight for us.
The female looks up at me, her voice small and scared: "What's wrong?"
I pull her closer, my arms tightening around her protectively as the approaching footsteps grow louder.
"Everything just changed," I growl.