Chapter 5 Shadows at the gate

The Ironclaw Pack was a fortress come morning. After Beth's revelation and the warning of Malrik's rise, Austin's command had transformed the sleepy settlement into a hive of preparation. Warriors trained in tight formations. Witches from the nearby coven arrived to reinforce the protective wards. Scouts ran in constant shifts across the borderlands, eyes sharp for any sign of approaching danger.

But the unease was heavy. Everyone felt it-that moment before the storm broke.

Beth stood at the edge of the training field, her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of a blade as she mimicked a movement Austin had shown her a dozen times.

"Bend your knees more," Austin called out, standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. "And twist at the core. You're using your arms too much."

Beth scowled but obeyed. She swept forward again, this time smoother, faster-more precise.

"Better," he nodded.

Beth blew a strand of hair from her eyes. "I never thought I'd be training to kill."

"You're not training to kill," Austin said quietly, walking toward her. "You're training to survive. There's a difference."

She met his gaze. "I'm not afraid of dying."

"That's the problem." His voice was low. Firm. "You should be."

Beth looked away. "When you've already lost everything once, it doesn't feel the same anymore."

He stepped closer, taking the blade gently from her hands and setting it aside. "You haven't lost everything," he said. "Not anymore."

Their eyes met, the air thick with something more dangerous than war. But before either could speak, a howl pierced the sky-sharp, frantic.

A scout burst from the treeline.

"Alpha!" he shouted. "Rogues-north pass! At least fifteen!"

Austin's eyes narrowed. "They've moved faster than I expected."

Beth grabbed her blade. "Let's move."

-

They reached the north ridge within minutes, accompanied by six Ironclaw warriors. From behind the trees, Beth could make out shadows moving between rocks. Fast. Disorganized.

Austin crouched beside her. "They're testing us."

Beth frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Sending in expendables. Stirring fear. Malrik's not here. These are distractions."

"Then let's show them we're not afraid."

Austin gave a small, wolfish grin. "With pleasure."

He raised his hand and signaled the warriors. In a burst of coordinated movement, the pack surged forward-howls erupting from their throats as they descended on the rogues.

Beth followed, her heart pounding, fire crackling faintly beneath her skin.

The battle was brutal but quick. The rogues, feral and poorly trained, stood no real chance against Ironclaw's precision. Beth fought beside Austin, her blade singing as it slashed through the chaos. One rogue lunged for her throat-she sidestepped and drove her dagger into his side, the ember pulsing as the creature dropped, stunned by more than steel.

By the end, five wolves lay dead. The rest fled, vanishing into the thick woods.

Austin stood over one of the bodies, frowning.

Beth joined him. "What is it?"

He crouched, lifting the rogue's hand. The nails were blackened. Burned. A faint rune was etched into the flesh-glowing red.

Beth recoiled. "What is that?"

"A brand," Austin said grimly. "He was marked. Controlled."

"By Malrik?"

Austin nodded. "Or one of his shadows."

Beth stared at the corpse, bile rising in her throat. "They're not just feral. They're cursed."

"That's how he builds an army," Austin muttered. "Not with loyalty. With corruption."

He stood, scanning the horizon. "This was only a taste."

Beth swallowed hard. "Then what's next?"

-

Back at the pack house, the council convened again, this time with urgency.

"They're using dark brands," Austin said, dropping the severed hand of the rogue onto the table. The rune still smoldered. "Malrik's found a way to bind wolves to his will."

"That's forbidden magic," said one of the councilors, pale. "The kind buried with the Blood Priests."

Beth leaned forward. "We need more than swords and claws. We need allies. Witches. Healers. Anyone who remembers the old ways."

Elder Donnell slammed his fist down. "And if we go to war, we lose more than warriors. We lose our future."

"We already are at war!" Beth snapped. "We either fight now, or we burn later."

Silence.

Then, Austin spoke, calm but unshakable. "We need to fortify. But Beth's right-we need allies. I'll send word to the Crescent Hill coven. Maybe even the Stonefangs."

"Stonefangs?" Donnell scoffed. "They're mercenaries."

"They're alive," Austin replied coldly. "Which is more than we'll be if we do nothing."

Donnell didn't respond.

Beth rose from her chair. "Let me go to Crescent Hill."

Austin turned. "Alone? No."

"She'll be safer with me," said a soft voice.

Everyone turned to see a tall woman step from the shadows-her cloak marked with runes, eyes shimmering with moonlight silver.

Beth blinked. "Who are you?"

The woman bowed slightly. "My name is Mira. I'm a Watcher of the Moonpath. And I've been waiting for you."

-

That night, Beth packed lightly. Mira would take her through the hidden paths, deep routes between realms known only to the Moonpath-wolves born with the rare gift of walking both the physical and spiritual worlds.

Austin found her outside her quarters, lacing up her boots.

"You sure about this?" he asked.

Beth stood. "No. But we need the Crescent witches. And you need to hold the pack together."

He stepped close. "Then take this."

He pressed a small pendant into her hand-an obsidian stone etched with a wolf's eye.

"It'll glow if danger's near," he said. "And I'll feel it if you're in trouble."

Beth curled her fingers around it. "Thank you."

Austin's voice dropped. "Come back to me."

Beth didn't hesitate. "Always."

She leaned in, kissed him-brief but burning-and then turned toward Mira, who was already fading into the mists. As Beth followed her into the unknown, she felt the ember burn brighter. War was coming. But so was fire.

-

The Moonpath was unlike anything Beth had ever known. Traveling with Mira was not like walking through a forest- it was like slipping between breaths. One moment she walked beneath Ironclaw's pine-heavy sky, the next she was surrounded by silver mist and twisted trees that shimmered as though made of starlight.

"These are the paths between realms," Mira explained as they walked. "They existed before packs, before kings. Only a few of us can travel them freely."

Beth glanced around, her instincts prickling. "They don't feel... safe."

"They're not," Mira said. "Even the spirits here hunger."

Beth tightened her grip on her blade. "Then why risk it?"

"Because this is the fastest route to Crescent Hill," Mira said. "And because Malrik's influence has already begun to leak into this place. If left unchecked, it will spread into both realms."

Beth glanced sideways. "You said you were waiting for me. Why?"

Mira didn't answer immediately. Instead, she knelt beside a patch of ground and whispered something in an ancient tongue. A faint glyph glowed beneath the soil, then vanished.

"What was that?"

"A ward," Mira said. "To throw off any shadows tracking us. As for your question... because your ember is rare. It's not just a power-it's a key."

"A key to what?"

"The end," Mira said, standing. "Or the beginning. That depends on what you do with it."

Beth was quiet after that.

They traveled for what felt like hours. Time moved strangely on the Moonpath. The trees bled silver. The wind carried whispers. But Beth pressed forward, her mind drifting to Austin, to the pack, to the growing dread she'd felt since seeing that cursed brand.

Eventually, Mira stopped before a great archway of bone and ivy. Beyond it lay a small valley tucked in mist and lit by moonflowers that bloomed without sun.

"Crescent Hill," Mira announced.

A bell rang softly in the distance. Figures in deep violet cloaks appeared between the trees. Witches.

Beth's heart raced.

One of them stepped forward-an older woman with eyes like polished amethyst and a crescent mark burned into her forehead.

"Mira," she greeted. "And the Ember-Born, I presume."

Beth bowed slightly. "Beth Chadwick. Of the Ironclaw."

The woman's lips twitched in a smile. "I am High Priestess Elowen. Welcome."

-

Crescent Hill was more a sanctuary than a settlement. The witches lived in harmony with the land-growing herbs, raising wolves, studying the old magics in stone halls etched with history.

Beth was led to a small chamber where runes lined the walls in glowing blue. Mira left her there while Elowen prepared the Circle for council.

Beth paced, unsure what to expect. She didn't know much about witches-just the usual: powerful, mysterious, dangerous. But these weren't like the tales whispered by paranoid wolves. They felt... grounded. Purposeful.

The door opened again. Mira entered, followed by Elowen.

"You'll speak to the Circle," Elowen said. "But first, you must understand what you're asking."

Beth nodded. "Help against Malrik. And his corrupted wolves."

"Not just wolves," Mira said. "He seeks something greater-dominion over the ley lines, the source of magic itself."

Elowen stepped closer. "There is a prophecy-of fire reborn, of an ember not snuffed out by darkness, but ignited through it. You, Beth, may be that ember."

Beth blinked. "Prophecies? I'm just a wolf with a scarred past."

"No," Elowen said, eyes narrowing. "You are a bridge. Between what was and what must be. If we join this war, it will be through you."

Beth's voice was steady. "Then I'll carry that burden."

Elowen studied her a moment longer... then nodded. "Then come. The Circle awaits."

-

The Crescent Hill Circle was made of thirteen witches, each robed in violet, seated around a stone table beneath a canopy of glowing moss.

Beth stood in the center, Mira and Elowen at her sides.

She spoke clearly, firmly-of Malrik's return, of the corrupted rogues, the branded flesh, the threat to all magic-born.

They listened without interruption.

Then Elowen raised her hand. "What say the Circle?"

One by one, the witches cast their vote by dropping stones into a silver bowl-white for aid, black for abstention.

Beth counted them as they fell.

Ten white.

Three black.

Elowen smiled faintly. "The Crescent Hill will stand with Ironclaw."

Beth exhaled for what felt like the first time in days. But Mira's expression remained grim.

"This is only the first spark," the Watcher murmured. "And Malrik... he has yet to truly awaken."

Beth turned to her. "What do you mean?"

"He's searching for something," Mira said. "A vessel. One strong enough to house the shadow completely. If he finds it, even the embers may not be enough to stop him."

Beth's stomach dropped. "Then we can't let him find it."

Elowen touched her shoulder. "You'll leave at dawn with a Crescent envoy. Rest now, Ember-Born. The storm will come soon enough."

-

That night, Beth stood alone on a balcony overlooking Crescent Hill's silver gardens. The stars shimmered above. Wind stirred the petals. And in the center of her chest, the ember pulsed- warm and restless.

She thought of Austin. Of his eyes. His voice. His kiss.

She wanted to believe they'd see each other again.

But in her heart, she feared this war might cost them both more than they were ready to lose.

Still... she would not run. She would not falter. She would burn.

-