Chapter Eight – The Elders' Eyes
(Darius's POV)
The Elders' chamber was colder than usual.
Not just in temperature—but in presence. The kind of cold that seeped into your bones and whispered that you didn't belong. That you were being watched. Judged. Measured.
I stood in the center of the obsidian circle, the runes beneath my boots glowing faintly with ancient power. Twelve thrones loomed around me, each carved from black stone, each occupied by a figure cloaked in shadow. Their faces were hidden, but I could feel their eyes—sharp, ancient, and unblinking.
"Darius," Elder Virek said, his voice like gravel dragged across steel. "You've been seen near the girl again."
"She has a name," I replied, my voice calm but edged. "Raven."
A murmur rippled through the circle. Elder Lysara leaned forward, her hood slipping just enough to reveal a sliver of silver hair and a mouth set in a permanent sneer.
"She is not yours to name," she said. "She is Asset Twelve. A vessel. A weapon."
"She's not a weapon," I said. "She's a person."
"She is a threat," Elder Kael snapped. "You forget what she is."
"I remember exactly what she is," I said. "She's the one you're all afraid of."
Another murmur. This one darker. More dangerous.
Elder Thorne rose from his seat, his voice low and deliberate. "You walk a thin line, boy. Your father may have been Alpha, but you are not yet crowned. You are not above the Order."
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Then crown me."
Silence.
"You think you're ready?" Lysara asked. "You think you can lead when your judgment is clouded by lust and sentiment?"
"It's not lust," I said. "It's loyalty."
"To her?" Virek asked. "Or to us?"
"To the truth."
Kael stood now too, his voice rising. "The truth is that she is waking. The seal is weakening. If she remembers who she is—what she is—"
"She'll destroy us all," Lysara finished.
I took a step forward. "Or she'll save us."
The runes flared beneath me, reacting to my defiance. A low hum filled the chamber, like the growl of something ancient and buried.
"Enough," Thorne barked. "You will stay away from her. That is an order."
I didn't move. "No."
The runes flared again, brighter this time. My wolf, Maximus, stirred inside me, his growl echoing in my chest.
"You dare defy the Council?" Lysara hissed.
"I dare to protect what's mine."
"She is not yours!" Virek roared, slamming his staff against the stone. "She is the property of the Order!"
"She is not property," I said, voice low and dangerous. "She is the storm you tried to bottle. And it's going to break."
Outside the chamber, Jalen was waiting, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked to the faint glow still pulsing beneath my skin.
"You're playing with fire," he said.
"I was born in it."
He pushed off the pillar and fell into step beside me. "They're going to strip you of your claim if you keep this up."
"Let them try."
"You're not invincible, Darius."
I stopped walking. "Neither is she."
He frowned. "You think she's still in there?"
"I know she is."
"She hasn't spoken in weeks. She doesn't eat. Doesn't sleep. She's a shell."
"She's waiting."
"For what?"
"For me."
Jalen exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're not thinking clearly. The bond—"
"Is real," I snapped. "You felt it too, didn't you? When she marked me?"
He didn't answer.
I pulled down the collar of my shirt, revealing the scar over my heart. A jagged crescent, still faintly glowing.
"She didn't just mark me," I said. "She claimed me."
That night, I returned to the lower levels of the compound.
The air grew colder the deeper I went, the walls slick with condensation and old magic. The guards at the final gate stepped aside without a word. They knew better than to stop me.
I stood outside her cell, heart pounding.
I hadn't seen her in days. Not since the last time I tried to speak to her and she didn't even look up.
I pressed my palm to the iron door. It was warm.
"Raven," I whispered. "It's me."
No answer.
I closed my eyes, reaching out with my senses. Listening.
There. A heartbeat. Faint. Steady. But not calm.
She was awake.
I opened the door.
The room was dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb. Chains hung from the ceiling, but she wasn't bound. Not anymore. She sat in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, hair hanging in tangled curtains around her face.
She didn't look up.
"Raven," I said again, stepping inside. "It's me."
Still nothing.
I knelt beside her, careful not to touch her. "I know you can hear me."
Her breath hitched.
Progress.
"I saw the mark," I said. "It's waking, isn't it?"
She flinched.
"I know what they did to you. I know what they took. But you're still in there. I can feel it."
Her fingers twitched.
I reached into my coat and pulled out the box. The one she gave me before they took her. The one I hadn't dared open.
I set it on the floor between us.
"You told me not to open it until I remembered," I said. "I think I'm ready."
Her head lifted, just slightly. One eye met mine—green, rimmed with gold.
"I remember the night you gave it to me," I said. "You were scared. But you weren't broken. You were fire."
She blinked slowly.
I opened the box.
Inside was a single strip of cloth—torn from her old nightdress. The one she wore the night she first dreamed of the wolves. It was stained with blood. Her blood.
Beneath it, a note.
If you're reading this, it means I'm gone. But I'm not lost. Find me. Wake me. Burn them all.
I looked up.
Her eyes were wide now. Glowing.
"Raven," I said, voice shaking. "I'm here."
She opened her mouth.
And screamed.
The sound wasn't human.
It was a howl. A roar. A war cry.
The walls shook. The bulb shattered. The runes in the stone flared to life, casting the room in crimson light.
I lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders. "Raven! It's me!"
She thrashed, eyes wild, teeth bared. Her nails raked across my chest, reopening the scar. Blood bloomed between us.
She froze.
Her eyes locked on the wound. On the mark she left.
Recognition flickered.
"Darius?" she whispered.
I exhaled. "Yeah. I'm here."
She collapsed into me, trembling. "They took everything."
"I know," I said, holding her close. "But I'm going to get it back."