ARC I: The Enemy's Daughter
The border forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
Mira Nightshade felt it in her bones before she saw anything wrong. The birds had gone silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade.
"Hold," she whispered.
The Nightshade patrol slowed behind her, boots brushing frost-covered leaves. Dawn was close, the sky pale and gray between the trees. This stretch of land had always been dangerous, but today the air felt wrong. Heavy. Watched.
Mira lifted her hand.
Then the first arrow struck.
It slammed into the tree beside her head with a sharp crack, burying itself deep in the bark. Wood splintered inches from her face.
She did not scream.
She did not jump.
Fear had been burned out of her long ago.
"Ambush!" someone shouted.
The forest exploded.
Silver flashed through the trees as Silverfang warriors surged from the shadows. They moved fast and clean, not like a raiding party, but like a unit trained for one purpose.
This was no accident.
Mira spun, blade already free, instincts taking over. Steel rang against steel as she blocked a strike aimed at her throat. She kicked the attacker back and twisted aside as another wolf lunged for her legs.
They had crossed too deeply.
Her chest tightened as the truth hit her.
This was bait.
"Fall back!" Mira shouted. "Form up!"
But the Silverfangs were already cutting them off.
A Nightshade wolf went down to her right with a cry of pain. Blood sprayed across snow-dusted leaves. The sharp scent burned Mira's nose.
She slashed low, felt her blade bite into flesh, and heard a howl. She did not look back. Looking back got you killed.
"Mira!" her cousin yelled. "We're surrounded!"
Before she could answer, the air changed.
Power rolled through the clearing like a pressure wave. Not magic. Not force.
Authority.
Every wolf froze for half a heartbeat.
That pause cost Mira everything.
Something struck her from behind. Hard.
She slammed to the ground, breath knocked from her lungs. Pain flared across her back as she rolled instinctively and came up swinging.
Her blade stopped midair.
Golden eyes locked onto hers.
The Silverfang warrior in front of her did not attack.
He stood still, chest rising fast, eyes wide—not wild, not cruel, but focused. As if he were seeing something impossible.
Something snapped inside her chest.
Pain tore through her like fire.
Mira gasped and dropped to one knee, fingers clawing at her breast as heat flooded her veins. Her wolf screamed inside her skull, not in rage—but in shock.
No.
No, no...
The scent hit her.
Ash and frost. Cold mountain wind. Blood and something ancient.
Mate.
Her wolf howled in terror.
The Silverfang warrior staggered back, bracing himself against a tree. His breath came in rough pulls, pupils blown wide.
"Mira Nightshade," he said hoarsely.
Her name on his lips felt like a violation.
Rage cut through the pain.
Mira lunged.
She slammed into him with all her strength, blade flashing for his throat. He reacted just in time, catching her wrist and twisting hard. Her knife fell into the leaves.
"Don't touch me!" she snarled.
"I don't want this either," he said through clenched teeth. "But it's already done."
Silverfang warriors flooded the clearing, weapons raised.
Nightshade howls sounded in retreat.
Outnumbered.
Trapped.
Mira kicked hard, catching the warrior in the ribs. He grunted but held on, pulling her closer by mistake.
The bond flared again—hot, cruel, overwhelming.
She screamed.
"Enough!"
The command cracked through the forest like thunder.
Every Silverfang wolf froze.
A path opened through the trees.
He stepped into the clearing like a storm made flesh.
Alpha Ryker Silverfang.
Mira had seen him from afar—on ridgelines, across battlefields—but never this close. He was taller than she expected, broader, his presence pressing down on her instincts until her wolf wanted to kneel and tear his throat out at the same time.
His gaze found her.
The bond detonated.
Mira collapsed.
Her lungs locked. Her heart slammed wildly as pain and heat crashed over her senses. Across the clearing, Ryker went rigid, one hand clutching his chest, a sound ripping from him that was half-snarl, half-disbelief.
"No," he whispered.
Silence fell.
The warrior holding Mira released her at once, backing away as if burned.
"Alpha…" someone said. "She's..."
"I know what she is," Ryker snapped.
His eyes never left Mira.
She forced herself upright, legs shaking. Fury burned hotter than fear.
"Kill me," she said hoarsely. "Or let me go."
Ryker stared at her as if she had handed him a blade.
"You are Mira Nightshade," he said slowly. "Daughter of Alpha Corvin."
She lifted her chin. "And you are my enemy."
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe—but it vanished under iron control.
"Bind her."
Cold iron snapped around her wrists.
She fought until her hands dragged away, teeth bared, lungs burning. As they hauled her deeper into Silverfang land, Mira twisted to look back at the forest.
Smoke already curled above the trees.
Father will come, she told herself. He will burn this place to the ground.
The bond pulsed between her and Ryker with every step.
Weeks, her wolf whispered.
Weeks of agony if she rejected him.
Weeks until death.
Silverfang territory rose from the mountains like a fortress carved by cruel gods.
Stone walls. Iron gates. Towers etched with runes older than memory.
Wolves lined the paths as Mira was dragged through the gates—silent, staring.
Hatred burned in their eyes.
Curiosity too.
The Alpha's hall swallowed sound.
They forced her to her knees at the center of the chamber. Chains bit into her skin. Elders stood along the walls, watching her like a verdict waiting to be spoken.
Ryker stood before her.
Up close, he was worse. Not handsome.
Dangerous.
"State your name," an elder demanded.
"Mira Nightshade."
A hiss rippled through the hall.
"State your crime."
She met their gaze. "Existing."
Ryker's jaw tightened.
"She was captured during an armed incursion," the elder continued.
"I was defending my border," Mira snapped. "One you've violated for three generations."
Snarls answered her.
"Enough," Ryker said.
Silence fell.
"The Moon Goddess has spoken," an elder said. "The bond is undeniable."
Mira laughed, sharp and broken. "Your goddess has a sick sense of humor."
A low growl rolled from Ryker's chest.
" You will show respect..."
"I will show no respect," Mira said coldly. "Not to you. Not to him. Not to a fate that binds me to my grandmother's murderer."
The hall went still.
Ryker's face hardened. "My pack did not kill your grandmother."
"Liar."
"That is what you were taught," he said. "Not what happened."
The bond pulsed—uneasy, questioning.
"I will never accept you," Mira said. "I would rather die."
Shock rippled through the hall.
Ryker inhaled slowly.
"Then you do not understand the stakes."
"I do," she said. "If I accept you, my father will kill me. If I reject you, your laws will."
"Yes."
"Then I choose death."
The hall erupted.
Ryker moved fast, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. The bond flared painfully bright.
"You do not get to make that choice alone," he said.
She yanked free. "Watch me."
The oldest seer stepped forward.
"Thirty days," she croaked. "If the bond is denied, rejection sickness begins."
Pain. Madness. Death.
Ryker looked at Mira like a wound he could not close.
"You will stay here," he said. "Under my protection."
"Your protection?" she laughed bitterly. "From what?"
"From your pack."
The truth of it hit harder than chains.
A distant howl echoed through the mountain.
Nightshade.
Mira's blood ran cold.
Ryker turned sharply toward the sound.
"They've come for you," he said.
And the bond pulsed—sharp and merciless—as fate tightened its grip.
Nightshade war howls rose outside the gates, fierce and familiar.
Mira rushed to the window, chains rattling. Torches burned along the border, and blades flashed in the dark. Her brother's howl cut through the noise, raw and desperate.
Ryker moved beside her, jaw tight. "If they cross the gate, I cannot stop my wolves."
Mira turned to him, heart pounding. "Then stop the war. Let me go."
Before he could answer, a guard burst in, pale and shaking.
"Alpha… the Nightshade leader demands blood."
The bond surged violently.
Ryker went still.
"He demands you, Mira."
And the gates began to open as fate whispered its first true threat.