Chapter 4 LEAVING THE BONES BEHIND

CHAPTER 4- LEAVING THE BONES BEHIND

The forest changed.

Not slowly - but with every step, Jackline and the wolf took away from the ruins. The air felt wider, the canopy thinner. Sunlight found them more often, painting their path in silver strips and broken gold. The ground softened from old moss to damp earth, scattered with roots the color of dried blood.

Jackline didn't speak for a long time.

Her heart felt too heavy with everything she knew now - everything she had never been told, never been given a chance to understand. The crest weighed in her pocket like a stone made of truth. Her fingers brushed it every few moments, as if making sure destiny hadn't vanished like morning dew.

The wolf walked at her side the whole way.

Not behind.

Not ahead.

With her.

She didn't command him.

He simply stayed.

Every once in a while, he would flick an ear toward distant sounds she didn't catch - a rustle of branches too far to see, the snap of twigs beneath something heavier than deer. He never looked afraid. Only watchful.

Jackline had lived her life alone, self-reliant in silence - but now she realized she had never truly walked with another presence beside her.

And she found she didn't resent it.

Not yet.

Not anymore.

By noon, the forest became unfamiliar.

Jackline paused at a ridge overlooking a valley draped in morning fog. Beyond it, far but visible, the river wound like a silver vein between trees. On the other side lay Elder Reign - the village the queen's advisor had spoken of.

Jackline exhaled slowly.

"I've never gone this far," she murmured.

The wolf bumped her hand gently with his muzzle - not demanding, but encouraging.

She looked at him, mouth tightening as if trying to shape courage into words.

"We have to keep moving."

And they did.

They descended the ridge through tangled brush. Jackline's legs ached from the steepness; her palms scraped against bark as she slid down a slick slope. The wolf leapt beside her with fluid ease, landing soft as falling shadow.

The whisper of the forest followed them like a memory.

Like goodbye.

SIGNS OF THE OUTER WORLD

Near mid-afternoon, Jackline found the first evidence that she was leaving safety behind.

A rope bridge - broken.

Half collapsed into a ravine where water churned white. Planks dangled like rusted teeth, ropes frayed and blackened as if burned. Someone had destroyed it intentionally.

Jackline crouched, inspecting the damage. The wolf sniffed along the burned fibers, hackles beginning to rise.

"That wasn't age," she murmured. "Someone did this recently."

The wolf growled, soft but certain.

Jackline scanned the forest on both sides - eyes narrowed, breath slow, hunting subtle details only silence revealed. She noticed boot prints in the mud. Seven pairs, maybe eight, heading away from the bridge toward the distant road.

Hunters. Soldiers. Or worse.

"They're ahead of us," Jackline whispered.

Not behind.

Ahead.

The Sorcerer-King's reach had already passed this way.

And she was walking into it.

Jackline's throat tightened, but she forced herself to stand. Fear was a feeling - not a chain. She had survived too much to turn back now.

"We keep to the river," she said.

The wolf nudged her leg - agreement.

Together, they climbed down to the ravine's edge, wading in cold water that bit like needles around her ankles. They crossed on foot, the wolf swimming through a deeper current with steady strokes. On the far side, Jackline pulled herself up over slippery rock and stood gasping, hair dripping, breath sharp.

The forest beyond smelled different.

Less ancient.

Less protective.

More alive with people.

The world she had been hidden from for seventeen years.

She stepped forward into it.

FIRST SHADOWS OF ELDER REIGN

By dusk, the trees thinned enough to reveal distant rooftops - thatched, crooked, wrapped in smoke like tired breath. Fences lined fields where long grass swayed heavy with seed. Lanterns flickered like tiny suns against the dark.

"Elder reign," Jackline breathed.

Not a city.

Not a ruin.

A village - real and alive.

Her stomach twisted with something unfamiliar.

Anticipation.

Fear.

Hope.

She took one step forward - but stopped when the wolf stiffened suddenly, ears sharp, gaze cutting toward the path ahead.

Jackline listened.

At first, nothing.

Then she heard it:

Footsteps.

Soft.

Measured.

Not one pair -

Two.

Or three.

Coming toward them.

Jackline lifted her spear.

The wolf moved in front of her - protective instinct rising like a tide.

Shapes appeared between the trees - silhouettes first, then detail. Three figures in cloaks the color of ash, each carrying a lantern that burned with unnatural blue flame.

Jackline's breath hitched.

She had never felt magic - not like this - but the lantern light scraped her skin like cold fingertips.

One of the figures raised a hand.

"Child of the Crescent," a voice said, smooth and quiet as river stone. "We have been looking for you."

Jackline's heart thudded once, twice, too loud in her ears.

They knew.

Her name, her blood, her destiny.

And they had found her before she reached the village.

The wolf's growl rumbled like thunder, warning of the storm.

Jackline stepped forward anyway - spear steady, voice calm despite the fire in her veins.

"This forest is not yours," she said. "Speak your purpose."

The lead figure smiled - though no warmth reached their eyes.

"We bring a message from your uncle," they said.

"The Sorcerer-King wishes to welcome you home."

Jackline's blood ran cold.

Home.

To the throne stolen in blood.

To the family who abandoned her.

The wolf moved closer - not attacking yet, but poised like a held weapon.

Jackline's voice cut the night air like a blade-edge.

"I will not go to him."

The figure's smile sharpened.

"Then you will be taken."

The wolf lunged.

The blue lanterns flared like lightning.

And Chapter Four turned from discovery into confrontation.

BLUE FIRE AND MOONBLOOD

The emissaries stepped closer, lanterns held high - blue flames bending with unnatural hunger, casting shadows that moved too independently from their owners. Jackline tightened her grip on her spear until her knuckles whitened.

The wolf stood before her like a barricade of muscle and instincts sharpened by something ancient.

Not fear.

Preparation.

The nearest emissary spoke again, voice low and dripping calm.

"You survived where others expected you to die. Admirable. But destiny does not rewrite itself because a child hides in moss and stone."

Jackline's jaw clenched - something fierce rising inside her, something that was no longer just survival or instinct.

"I hid because the world forgot me," she said, stepping forward. "But now the world remembers."

The wolf growled - the kind of sound that made the earth listen.

The emissary tilted his head, curious, almost amused.

"Confidence. Unexpected."

His gaze slid to the wolf.

"And your guardian - still chained by old magic."

Jackline stiffened.

"Chained?" she repeated.

The emissary lifted the lantern slightly - blue light rippling like water.

The wolf flinched.

Not from pain - but recognition.

"He remembers the curse," the emissary murmured. "Even if his mind sleeps inside fur. When the red moon rises again, he will not protect you. He will tear apart everything he loves."

Jackline's breath froze.

The wolf's body went rigid - as if the words hit him like a blade. His ears flattened, and something behind his eyes flickered like fire trapped beneath ice.

Jackline stepped closer to him, not away.

"He has never harmed me," she said. "He won't."

The emissary smiled like someone watching a candle burn too close to cloth.

"You believe you know him. You believe he is a beast bound by affection."

His voice grew quieter, colder.

"He is a curse wearing loyalty like skin. When the moon calls his blood, he will answer."

The wolf's growl deepened - shaking leaves from branches.

Jackline's pulse hammered.

She didn't know everything about him - yet she trusted him more than she trusted anyone she'd met beyond the castle walls.

"I choose him," she said simply.

The forest held its breath.

The emissary raised his lantern - blue fire flaring.

"Then we will take you together."

The night exploded.

THE CHASE BENEATH LANTERN FIRE

The blue flame shot forward like lightning, not burning wood or moss - but air itself, sucking oxygen with a hiss. The wolf leaped aside, teeth bared, eyes burning with silver fury. Jackline ducked under a streak of fire that seared through the dark, snapping her spear upward to deflect a second strike.

Magic met wood with a crack like thunder.

Sparks broke across the forest floor, igniting brush in blue flame that refused to consume, only spread - unnatural, cold, and bright.

"Move!" Jackline shouted.

The wolf was already moving.

They fled through trees, branches whipping past, roots dragging at Jackline's feet. Leaves flared blue behind them, marking where magic had touched. The emissaries moved fast - silent despite the chaos, stepping through fire like it was water.

One appeared ahead of them - cutting off the path.

Jackline skidded to a stop, breath sharp, spear rising.

The wolf lunged first.

Not wild.

Not thoughtless.

Precise.

He slammed into the emissary with enough force to crush bone - yet instead of falling, the cloaked figure dissolved into smoke, reappearing behind them with inhuman speed.

Jackline exhaled once, steadying herself.

"We can't outrun magic," she murmured.

The wolf turned to her - and she saw it for the first time clearly:

Not animal obedience.

But a decision.

A question.

Fight?

or

Flee?

She felt the answer rise inside her with the certainty of her own heartbeat.

"Fight."

The wolf's body lowered - muscles coiling like a drawn bowstring.

Jackline spun her spear in one hand, stance firm.

The forest wind cut through the clearing like a blade.

THE FIRST STRIKE OF DESTINY

The emissaries advanced, lanterns flaring blue-white in unnatural waves. Jackline and the wolf moved as one - she striking low, he high. Her spear deflected a bolt of magic that would have pierced her chest. The wolf leapt over her strike, fangs snapping inches from a cloaked throat.

No death - but contact.

The emissary staggered.

Blue flame sputtered.

It was the first sign of weakness - but a second emissary appeared behind Jackline, hand reaching toward her as a shadow solidified.

The wolf spun faster than any beast should, intercepting, jaws closing around cloth - ripping it away to reveal something beneath that wasn't skin, but something pale and flickering like moonlight trapped in flesh.

The emissary shrieked - a sound like ice cracking.

The forest froze at the noise.

Jackline drove the butt of her spear into the ground, flipping herself backward and striking the figure full across the chest. Not killing - but breaking form.

The emissary shattered like glass into shards of light.

The other two retreated - not with fear, but calculation.

One spoke, voice calm even now.

"You are stronger than expected. Untrained - but not unchosen."

The wolf snarled, ready to lunge again -

But Jackline lifted a hand.

Not stopping him.

Choosing this moment.

Her voice was low as thunder on the horizon.

"Tell my uncle this."

She stepped forward.

"I am coming for what he stole."

The emissary bowed once - mocking or respectful, she could not tell.

"As he hoped," he murmured.

Then both vanished - lanterns collapsing into dust like burned petals.

Silence returned.

Not peace.

Silence like war paused.

Jackline slowly lowered her spear.

Her heart pounded not with fear but with clarity.

The wolf approached her - not triumphant, but watchful, as though waiting to see whether she regretted her choice.

She placed her hand on his fur - steady, sure.

"We go to Elder Reign," she said.

He pressed his head to her hand in answer.

Not promise.

Not obedience.

Partnership.

Together, they walked toward the village - blue lantern ash blowing behind them like the first breath of a storm.

STEPS BEYOND THE KNOWN

The trees thinned one breath at a time.

For the first time in Jackline's life, she saw open sky without branches cutting it into pieces - a wide blue-grey canvas brushed with smoke from distant chimneys. The wolf slowed beside her, as if sensing the boundary between the wild world and the shaped one.

Beyond the last line of oaks, elder reign waited.

Wooden buildings leaned like weary giants. Lanterns hung from beams, swinging in the breeze. Dirt paths wound between market stalls and cottages, though only a few people lingered outside - hauling water, repairing nets, sweeping stone steps with dull rhythm.

Jackline took a step closer.

Her entire body felt wrong - like she wore skin too new, too soft for the world beyond the forest. The air smelled different here - like hearth smoke and old grain instead of river moss and pine.

She had survived for seventeen years without ever speaking to another person.

And now she was walking into a village with a wolf at her side.

The first villager saw them.

A woman near the well - wide-eyed, hand frozen mid-lift on the bucket. Her gaze dropped to the wolf immediately, throat tightening.

"Gods," she whispered, stumbling back. "Forest-spawn-!"

Her voice carried across the square like thrown stones.

Doors opened. Curtains shifted. Heads turned.

In seconds, Jackline felt dozens of eyes on her - fear-wide, sharp-edged, some curious, some hostile. The wolf stepped closer to her leg, quiet but protective, his gaze sweeping the street like cold silver knives.

Jackline kept her chin lifted.

She did not lower her spear.

She did not hide the wolf.

If she were heir to a stolen crown, she would walk like someone born to be seen.

Still, her pulse hammered beneath her skin as whispers rippled through the air:

Who is she?

A witch, look at her eyes-

No - a hunter's spirit-

Is the wolf tamed? Impossible-

The door of a tavern swung open.

A tall man with grey-streaked hair stepped out, wiping his hands on an apron. His eyes were steady, not panicked - but focused. Calculating. Behind him, patrons crowded the doorway, murmuring.

He approached cautiously, hand raised.

"Girl," he said gently, though his gaze never left the wolf. "This is no place for wild beasts. People here scare easily."

Jackline held her ground.

"He's not wild," she said. "He's with me."

The man's brows drew together. "A creature like that belongs to the moon and blood. You shouldn't-"

Jackline reached into her satchel.

Her hand closed around the crest.

She held it out - silver catching the pale light.

The entire street fell silent.

The man's breath stilled. His eyes widened - not with fear now, but with recognition sharp as broken glass.

"That," he whispered, voice cracking, "is the royal sigil."

A hush fell over the village - deeper than fear. Deeper than suspicion.

Like the earth itself paused.

Jackline swallowed. "My name is Jackline."

A woman gasped. Another dropped a basket. A child stared round-eyed, clutching his mother's skirts as the wind seemed to bend around the wolf's shadow.

The tavern keeper did not step back.

He stepped forward.

"Jackline," he repeated - slowly, as though tasting history in the name. "There was a child by that name once. Born under an eclipse. Stolen when the kingdom fell."

He met her gaze without looking away.

"You're her."

Not a question.

A sentence.

Jackline's throat tightened - not with fear, but something harder to contain.

Belonging.

Recognition.

The thing she'd lived without her whole life.

The man glanced at the wolf again - expression shifting, equal parts awe and caution.

"And the guardian," he murmured. "Cursed to remain until she was found."

The wolf's tail lowered - stately, grave - as though acknowledging truth.

Jackline's voice - quiet, sure - cut through the crowd.

"I am seeking allies," she said. "And knowledge. I need to know what became of the throne - and who sits upon it now."

A woman from the crowd spoke - voice trembling.

"The Sorcerer-King," she whispered. "He rules beyond the valley. With blood and shadow."

Others nodded. Some bowed their heads as if even speaking his title was risky.

Fear flowed through the air like smoke.

But beneath it - something else stirred.

Hope.

Faint. Flickering. But there.

The tavern keeper stepped aside, gesturing toward the inn behind him.

"You'll find no beds for wolves," he said carefully, "but you'll find a table, warm stew, and ears willing to listen - if you mean no harm to this village."

Jackline hesitated, then nodded.

"We mean none."

The man motioned them inside - villagers parting like water around them, some lowering heads, others watching with wide eyes full of ancient stories waking.

Jackline entered elder reign with the wolf beside her - real air, real voices, real people around her for the first time.

Not wind.

Not silence.

Not ghosts.

Life.

And she was part of it now.

Whether the world wanted her or not.

A SEAT AT THE TABLE

The tavern smelled of woodsmoke, herbs, and something warm simmering - stew, thick and rich. Jackline had never known a room like this: stone walls unbroken by vines, voices trading space with fire crackle, chairs worn smooth from years of use rather than abandonment.

She felt out of place - like a ghost wandering into the living world.

But the wolf walked beside her without hesitation, silent as ever. Patrons pulled back instinctively as they entered, chairs scraping, hands tightening on mugs. Fear rippled through the room - but not panic. Not rejection. Suspense.

Like they were watching the beginning of a story they once believed impossible.

The tavern keeper gestured to an empty table near the hearth.

"Sit," he said softly. "Warm yourself. Food will come."

Jackline nodded once - grateful, though unused to such gestures. She took her seat carefully; spear lay across her knees. The wolf lowered himself at her feet like a silent sentinel, head resting atop crossed paws, eyes sharp.

He did not relax.

Neither did she.

Before long, a bowl of stew was set in front of her - steam rising, heavy with root vegetables and wild herbs. Jackline's stomach clenched with hunger she hadn't acknowledged. She ate slowly, not out of etiquette but caution - tasting, trusting, learning.

The wolf watched but didn't eat, even when a plate of raw meat was slid cautiously toward him. He only sniffed once and turned his head slightly - waiting, guarding.

It struck Jackline then:

He would not eat until she was safe.

Until her place here was certain.

The realization landed like a stone in her chest - weight and warmth mixed.

Before she could speak, another presence entered.

An old man stepped forward, leaning on a carved oak staff. His hair hung long and white down his back, and his eyes - sharp as flint - fixed on Jackline with recognition too deep to be chance.

The room quieted as he approached.

"You carry your mother's gaze," he said - voice low, weathered by years. "And her courage, it seems."

Jackline straightened unconsciously.

"Who are you?"

The man bowed his head lightly - respect, not obedience.

"I am Aldrin. I served your family before the night of blood."

He met her eyes.

"I was here when the last queen fell."

The fire popped sharply - as if the room itself reacted.

Jackline set her bowl aside, hands tightening.

"What happened to her?"

Not whispered. Not timid.

A demand.

Aldrin's breath trembled - not from age, but memory.

"She fought," he said softly. "She stood alone when others fled. But the Sorcerer-King's magic was stronger than our blades."

Jackline's throat tightened.

"And my father?" she asked, though she had imagined him only as a shadow without a face.

"Dead before nightfall," Aldrin replied. "He tried to break the curse placed upon the Guardian-"

His gaze flicked to the wolf - and the room held stillness like a thread.

Jackline's pulse quickened.

The Guardian.

The cursed protector.

The wolf did not move - but something like sorrow glimmered behind his eyes, deep as winter ponds.

Aldrin sank into the chair opposite her.

"The queen hid you," he said. "Hoped you would one day return - not as a child hunted, but as a leader chosen."

Jackline swallowed, voice low.

"And return to what?"

Aldrin's silence was answer enough.

A broken throne.

A kingdom smothered in shadow.

Her future was not a crown waiting - but a battlefield rising.

Footsteps approached from behind. Light but deliberate.

Jackline turned.

A young woman stood at their table, cloak travel-stained, eyes sharp with something like fear and purpose woven together. A thin scar crossed her brow - a mark of survival.

"I know that crest," she said, voice barely steady. "I carry another like it."

Jackline's breath stilled.

The stranger reached into her cloak and revealed a matching piece of silver - not identical, but part of the same sigil, broken like a half-truth waiting to be completed.

Gasps rippled through the room.

Aldrin stood sharply, staff striking the floor.

"You-!"

He stopped himself - stunned, but not disbelieving.

Jackline leaned forward, heart thundering.

"Who are you?"

The girl's voice shook - not with weakness, but intensity.

"My family died protecting this," she whispered. "And their last words were your name."

Jackline's pulse snapped.

Why would strangers die for her?

Why would they carry pieces of her past?

Why would they know her name when she herself barely owned it?

Before she could ask more, the tavern window shattered inward.

Glass exploded across wood.

A scream rose from the street.

Jackline's heart slammed as the wolf leapt to his feet, fur bristling, teeth bared. Outside, flames flickered orange and blue against the dark - spreading fast, unnatural in hue.

A voice echoed through the village square - deep, booming.

"THE LOST HEIR IS HERE!"

Wood cracked.

Horses shrieked.

Silver-armored soldiers poured through the square like a tide of steel.

They had been followed.

The Sorcerer-King's reach had found her.

Aldrin's voice tore through the chaos:

"Jackline - RUN!"

And the wolf moved - not to flee -

but to clear a path.

Fire lit the night like prophecy, igniting.

Jackline rose into it.

Not hidden.

Not forgotten.

Becoming.

The Night Elder Reign Burned

Chaos crashed like a wave.

Villagers scattered in terror as armored soldiers flooded the square - metal flashing beneath torchlight, boots striking dirt like war drums. Horses reared, shadows lunged, fire leapt from rooftop to rooftop, orange bleeding into blue where sorcery twisted the flames.

Jackline didn't run.

She stood.

The wolf stood with her-fur bristling, teeth bared, eyes bright like lunar steel. When the first soldier reached them, blade raised, the wolf met him mid-step-striking not to kill, but to throw him backward like wind made weapon.

No one in the tavern had ever seen a beast move like that.

Gasps broke through the room like cracks in a dam.

Aldrin seized Jackline's arm.

"There is no victory here tonight," he warned, voice trembling with urgency. "You are not ready-they'll take you alive even if we fall dead."

Jackline met his gaze.

She saw desperation in it. Fear. Truth.

But something else flickered inside her, brighter than either:

Refusal.

She shoved open the tavern door and stepped into the burning square, wind slapping embers against her skin. Soldiers formed ranks - three lines deep, shields raised, spears leveled.

Their captain rode forward.

His armor was darker than the others, trimmed in silver that shimmered like frost. His face was hidden behind a half-mask hammered with the symbol of a crescent eclipsed by shadow.

Her mother's house - crossed out.

Jackline felt something cold and fierce rise in her blood.

The captain's voice boomed across the square.

"By order of the Sorcerer-King, the lost heir is to be surrendered!"

People fell to their knees.

Doors slammed.

Children cried.

Jackline did not move.

The wolf stood at her flank, a wall of fur and power, growl vibrating the ground itself.

The captain pointed his blade at her.

"You are outnumbered."

Jackline lifted her chin.

"You underestimate what you face."

The wolf lunged the instant the soldiers stepped forward. He moved like darkness come alive-silent and unstoppable. He knocked men aside as if they were saplings in the wind, never pausing, never faltering.

But there were too many.

Dozens.

Maybe more are still advancing through the trees.

The girl with the matching crest stepped beside Jackline, eyes blazing with the fire of someone who had already lost everything once.

"I don't know you," she said breathlessly. "But I will not watch another heir fall."

Before Jackline could answer, she darted into battle - fast and precise, daggers flashing silver. She held her ground like someone who'd trained for war her entire life.

Aldrin limped into view next, staff raised, and when he struck the earth, the ground shuddered - roots whipping up like serpents to trip soldiers and drag them down.

Magic older than steel.

Villagers - timid moments before - scrambled for buckets of water, weapons, stones, anything. Not all dared fight - but some stepped forward, and that mattered.

It mattered more than fear.

Jackline felt destiny shifting like storm wind through her hair - but she knew one truth sharply:

If she stayed here, the village would burn because of her.

The wolf's growl thundered behind her as he intercepted a soldier's strike meant for her spine. He saved her without hesitation - but his movements grew sharper, more violent.

Jackline's breath caught.

His eyes flashed-

not silver.

Red.

Just for an instant.

A fragment of the curse exposed.

Her heart lurched painfully.

He was choosing control - for now. But if the moon rose high enough... instinct might turn him into something even she could not stop.

Jackline's decision crystallized like frost.

"Retreat into the forest!" she shouted. "I will not let Elder Reign die for me!"

Her voice cut through screaming and steel like a command forged in blood.

Even the soldiers froze.

The wolf moved to her side immediately-waiting for her next word, trembling with suppressed power.

The girl with the matching crest sprinted to her, breath ragged.

"You have people willing to fight," she gasped. "You could build resistance-"

Jackline shook her head.

"I won't start my rule by burning the innocent."

Their eyes locked - understanding forming like fire catching dry wood.

Aldrin limped toward them, face lined with grief and resolve.

"You must go," he said. "Tonight. Now. We'll hold them long enough. But if you fall-hope falls with you."

Jackline's throat trembled - not with fear, but with ache.

For the first time, she had something to lose.

She stepped back, hand gripping the wolf's fur. He pressed against her leg as if to anchor her - or to be anchored himself.

Then she turned to the girl.

"Come with us."

The girl nodded once without hesitation.

And in that moment, Jackline felt the first piece of her own army fall into place.

Not through conquest.

Through choice.

Trees cracked behind them - soldiers forcing entry. Magic surged. Horses screamed. The night bent with violence waiting to spill.

Jackline stood one heartbeat longer in the burning square - claiming it with memory.

Then she spoke only one word:

"Run."

And they ran.

Into the dark.

Into the unknown.

Into the future that would either break her-

or crown her.

The wolf led them into the shadow.

Fire lit the world red behind them.

And the heir to a fallen kingdom vanished into the night like prophecy reborn.