Chapter 3 Shadows of the past

Elowen's dreams were a battlefield.

Each night she closed her eyes, and the images returned-Theron's sneering face as he rejected her, the blood staining the snow beneath her feet, the ache of betrayal so deep it had nearly torn her soul apart. But among those fragments of torment, something new had begun to appear.

A child's laughter.

A hand reaching out through the fog.

A name she couldn't quite remember.

She woke just before dawn, gasping for air. Her skin was slick with sweat despite the cold. For a long moment, she simply sat there in the dark, trying to calm the storm in her chest. The dreams were coming more frequently now, sharper, clearer. Something inside her was stirring-something she'd buried long ago.

She needed answers.

By the time she emerged from the tent, the camp was already alive with activity. The scent of roasted meat wafted through the clearing. Warriors sparred in the open ring while scouts returned with reports from surrounding territories. Lucien stood at the edge of the forest, arms folded as he watched the trees, his expression unreadable.

Kieran was sharpening his blade by the fire, the sound of metal against stone steady and calm.

Elowen approached him, her steps light but determined.

"I need to know what Theron's doing now. Who's backing him?" she asked without preamble.

Kieran looked up at her slowly. "You think I have spies in his camp?"

"Don't you?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're bolder than most. But fine. We've been tracking him. He's moving differently lately. More secretive. He's expanding past his borders. There's something he wants, something big."

Lucien walked over, dusting his palms. "We believe he's forming an alliance with the Blackthorn Circle."

Elowen froze. "The old blood cult?"

Lucien nodded grimly. "They were wiped out a decade ago-or so we thought. But there've been signs. Rituals. Symbols. Missing Omegas. Theron may be using them to consolidate power. He's not content with just one pack anymore. He wants the whole damn region."

Elowen clenched her fists, her voice low and bitter. "He always wanted more. That's why I was never enough."

Lucien exchanged a glance with Kieran. "We need to act before he seals that alliance."

Later that day, Kieran summoned the inner circle to the war tent.

Maps were unfurled. Markers placed. The forest surrounding Theron's territory had changed-patrols doubled, trade routes closed, and scouts had vanished in the dense woods.

"We strike one of his supply chains," Kieran said. "His northern outpost. We need information. And we send a message."

Elowen volunteered before anyone else could. "I'll go."

"No," Kieran said flatly. "You're not ready."

"I've been training for two weeks straight. I know that territory better than any of you."

Lucien raised a brow. "Let her lead a small team. She's right. If this mission fails, we'll lose more than an outpost. We'll lose time."

There was a long pause. Then Kieran nodded once. "Fine. But you're taking Lucien with you."

That night, Elowen and Lucien slipped through the woods with three others.

It had been years since she'd walked these paths, but her feet remembered. Every root, every bend in the trail. They passed ancient trees and streams that still whispered her name. She had once run through these forests with hope in her chest. Now she returned cloaked in purpose and pain.

They reached the outpost just before midnight. It stood on a ridge, a crude structure reinforced with magic wards. Guards patrolled the perimeter.

Lucien crouched beside her in the brush, his breath steady.

"We create a diversion. You go in with Marra and search the command tent. I'll take care of the eastern flank."

Elowen nodded, her pulse quickening.

On his signal, chaos erupted.

An arrow whistled through the air, striking a torch and scattering sparks. A second later, wolves burst from the trees-just illusions, conjured by one of the mages-but they served their purpose. The guards panicked, and Elowen slipped into the shadows.

Inside the command tent, papers lay scattered across the table. Marra kept watch while Elowen rifled through maps and scrolls. Her fingers trembled as she opened a sealed letter marked with blood-red wax.

Her eyes scanned the contents-and froze.

To Alpha Theron,

The final blood moon approaches. Prepare the vessel. The child's essence will awaken the gate. The price of power is nearly paid.

-Blackthorn

Elowen's breath caught. A child. A vessel. A blood moon ritual.

A name clawed its way up from the depths of her memory.

Calen.

Her heart nearly stopped.

Her son.

The son she was told had died.

She stuffed the letter into her pouch and turned. "We're leaving. Now."

The return journey was a blur. By the time they arrived at camp, dawn was cresting over the hills, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold.

Elowen burst into Kieran's tent and slammed the letter on the table.

"He's alive," she choked out. "My son-he's alive. They're going to use him."

Kieran scanned the letter. His eyes narrowed. "This changes everything."

Lucien stepped in behind her, his expression grim. "They're planning a ritual. Blood magic. And if they succeed, it won't just be your son we lose. The veil between realms will tear. We'll all pay the price."

Elowen's voice was sharp with fury. "Then we stop them. I don't care what it takes. I'm not losing him again."

And in that moment, the woman who had stumbled into the camp-broken and exiled-stood taller than ever. She wasn't just Elowen anymore. She was a mother. A warrior. And the storm was only just beginning.

The war council was silent after Elowen's outburst, the weight of her revelation heavy in the thick morning air.

Kieran ran a hand down his face, his jaw clenched. "We always assumed the boy... that he died in the fire."

His voice faltered, and for the first time, Elowen saw uncertainty in his usually unshakable expression.

"He didn't," she said bitterly. "Theron lied. He let me believe my son was dead. And now, he's going to use him in some blood ritual-sacrifice him for power."

Lucien leaned on the table, his fingers splayed over the letter. "The Blackthorn Circle believed in old magic, primal and corrupt. They always needed a bloodline vessel to bridge realms. If your son is alive, and if Theron kept him hidden all these years..." He met her eyes. "That means your son is powerful."

Elowen nodded. Her voice was ice. "And he's in danger."

Kieran paced the length of the tent, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden planks. "We need to locate the ritual site. They won't perform something this dangerous in plain sight."

Lucien added, "They'll wait for the blood moon. That gives us... ten days."

"Ten days to find my son," Elowen said. "Ten days to stop Theron before he tears open something none of us can contain."

Kieran's eyes locked with hers. "You're not alone in this, Elowen. We'll find him. Together."

Later that day, Elowen stood alone on the edge of a cliff overlooking the valley, her hands gripping the weathered stone railing of an old lookout post. Below her, the world stretched in shades of green and gold, peaceful and deceptive.

Her heart felt anything but peaceful.

She had barely allowed herself to think of Calen these past years. The pain had been too much. She'd buried the memories, convinced that doing so would let her move on. But now they surged back with relentless force-his cries, his soft curls, his tiny hand curling around her finger.

She could almost hear his laughter in the wind.

"What are you thinking?"

Kieran's voice came softly from behind her. She didn't turn to face him.

"I should have known. I should have fought harder. I-" Her voice broke. "He was my baby."

Kieran came to stand beside her. "Theron was your mate. You trusted him. That isn't your fault."

Elowen let out a bitter laugh. "I trusted a monster."

He was silent for a while, then said, "We've all made choices we regret. But you're here now. And we're not going to let him take anything more from you."

She turned to him, eyes glinting. "You don't even know what I'm willing to do, Kieran. I will burn the world to find my son."

He looked at her, unwavering. "Then I'll burn it with you."

That night, a scout returned from the east, breathless and wide-eyed. "We found something," he told the camp. "Old ruins. Marked with Blackthorn sigils. Recent tracks. And blood-fresh."

Kieran called an emergency meeting.

The scout laid out his findings: a hidden temple buried deep in the forest, built into the mountain, long thought abandoned. Symbols carved into the stone that matched the sigil on the letter Elowen had found.

"It's a Blackthorn sanctum," Lucien confirmed. "I've read about it in old tomes. That site was once used for offerings."

Elowen's skin crawled.

"We move at first light," Kieran said.

Lucien frowned. "It's dangerous to storm a Blackthorn site blindly. Their magic traps aren't just defenses-they corrupt the mind."

Kieran turned to Elowen. "You've walked near their influence before. If there's anything you remember..."

She thought back. The forests near Theron's pack. The sickening pressure in her chest whenever she'd gone too far east. The whispers in the trees.

"There was a glade. Quiet, but wrong. The trees there were too still. The air felt thick, like it was... watching."

Lucien nodded grimly. "That's the presence of the blood ward. The closer we get, the more the forest will try to turn us back."

"We're not turning back," Elowen said. "Not until we find Calen."

Before dawn, the team was assembled-Elowen, Lucien, Kieran, and a group of elite warriors. They moved like shadows through the forest, silent and swift, until the air itself seemed to change.

The trees grew darker here. Twisted. Ancient symbols had been carved into bark and stone. Ravens watched from above, unblinking.

A fog rolled in low across the moss-covered ground.

Elowen felt the pressure return-a sensation of being watched, prodded, tested.

Lucien raised his hand. "We're close. Feel that? The hum of energy in your bones?"

"Yes," Elowen whispered. "It's calling to me."

They reached the edge of a clearing. At the center stood a black stone altar. Around it, jagged ruins formed a broken circle. Runes glowed faintly on the ground-pulsing like a heartbeat.

But it was what stood beyond the altar that froze Elowen's blood.

A boy. No older than six. Pale, bound by enchanted chains that glimmered faintly. His head was bowed, but she knew. She knew.

"Calen," she breathed, stepping forward.

Kieran grabbed her arm. "Wait. Look-"

From the shadows, a figure stepped into view.

Theron.

He looked older than when she'd last seen him, his once-golden hair darker, his eyes colder. A jagged scar crossed his cheek.

"Elowen," he said smoothly. "I was wondering when you'd come."

She drew her blade, the air around her sparking with raw fury. "Let him go."

Theron smirked. "You never understood, did you? He's special. He was always meant for more."

"You used him," she snarled. "You lied to me."

"I saved him," Theron said. "From you. You were weak. You would have coddled his power. I'm going to awaken it."

Lucien stepped beside her, power radiating off him. "You won't get the chance."

Theron's smile widened. "Then come try to stop me."

With a flick of his wrist, the ground erupted.

From the shadows, cloaked figures rose- Blackthorn priests, their eyes glowing red, mouths whispering in ancient tongues. The sky above darkened unnaturally. And Elowen's war had truly begun.