Chapter 3 War Council Shadows

The Blackmoor den was ancient, carved into the cliffs overlooking the Ashen River, its halls echoing with the howls of Alphas long dead. Tapestries woven with crimson and silver thread depicted the rise of the Varyn bloodline, their victories and betrayals alike immortalized in cloth.

But tonight, the ancient stone walls bore witness to unrest.

Kade Varyn sat at the head of the long, weathered table in the war council chamber, his bandaged shoulder a dull throb beneath his cloak. A cold wind seeped through the narrow windows, carrying with it the scent of blood and treachery.

Riven Hale, his Beta and oldest friend, stood at his side, the flickering torchlight catching the silver in his dark hair.

"They're gathering against you, Kade," Riven said lowly, voice tight. "Rumors spread faster than wildfire. The Council, Bloodfang loyalists, even those within our own pack."

Kade's jaw tightened. "Names."

"Not yet. But I've seen the signs. Too many empty seats at gatherings. Messages carried by ravens bearing no crest. And last night, a meeting in the north woods. I caught the scent of Alpha Draven Corven."

At the mention of the Corven Alpha, Kade's amber eyes narrowed.

Draven had long chafed beneath Kade's rule , ambitious, cunning, with a taste for power that made lesser wolves fall in line behind him.

"And who else?" Kade asked.

Riven hesitated. "Elara Varyn."

Silence stretched between them.

"Elara?" Kade's voice was a low growl.

"She was seen with Draven. Whispering in shadows. I don't know what she's promised him, but it isn't loyalty to you."

Kade's stomach twisted. Elara was blood , his cousin, raised beside him, sworn to protect the Varyn name. If she turned...

He rose abruptly, pain flaring in his side. Riven reached for him, but Kade waved him off.

"I'll deal with them."

"You can't face this alone, Kade," Riven warned. "Not while you're still healing."

"I don't have the luxury of waiting."

A heavy knock broke the tension. A scout entered, bowing low.

"Alpha, a messenger from the eastern border. The Bloodfangs move at dawn."

Kade cursed under his breath. "Assemble the guard. And Riven , find Elara. Bring her to me."

The scout fled, and Riven gave a stiff nod before disappearing into the shadows.

Kade was left alone, the flicker of torchlight painting uneasy shapes across the stone walls.

Some battles, he knew, weren't fought with claws and fangs. They were fought with lies whispered in council chambers, daggers slipped between ribs, and oaths broken in the dark.

And his pack was fraying.

Elsewhere, in the depths of the Blackmoor den's lower tunnels, Elara Varyn met with Alpha Draven Corven.

The chamber was cramped, the air thick with damp earth and old blood. A single lantern lit their clandestine gathering, throwing sharp, cruel light across Draven's angular features.

"He suspects," Elara said, her voice a mere breath. She was a striking woman , raven-haired, sharp-eyed, with the Varyn blood's cold fire in her veins.

"Let him," Draven replied with a twisted grin. "He's already weakened. His allies flee, his enemies gather. By the next full moon, Kade Varyn will fall."

"And the Council?" she asked.

"They'll follow strength. When his blood stains these stones, it'll be my crest they swear to."

Elara hesitated, her gaze flickering.

"Careful, Elara," Draven said softly. "Doubt is a poor mistress."

"I've no doubt. Kade is reckless. He's ruled by pride , it'll undo him."

Draven stepped closer, brushing a knuckle against her jaw. "When it's done, you'll stand at my side. Queen of Blackmoor."

Elara's lips curved in a dangerous smile.

Let him believe it.

For now.

Far from Blackmoor, in a small stone cottage deep within the borderlands, Aria Wynn tossed fitfully in sleep.

The dream came unbidden.

A silver mist swirled around her, the ground beneath her bare feet cold and unfamiliar. The scent of wildflowers and old magic clung to the air.

A figure waited in the clearing.

A woman robed in pale gray, her hair silver as moonlight, her eyes twin pools of shimmering white. A crescent-shaped scar marked her brow.

Aria's breath caught. She knew this face , though she had never seen it before.

The Moon Priestess.

The figure spoke, her voice a thousand winds in unison.

"The shadows gather, child of dusk. The bond stirs. The bloodline fractures."

"I don't understand," Aria whispered. "Why me?"

"You carry the blood. You carry the choice."

The Priestess lifted a hand, and in her palm appeared a single black feather.

"War comes. Choose your side... or be devoured by both."

Before Aria could speak, the mist closed in.

She jolted awake, heart racing, the image of those silver eyes burned behind her lids.

The feather lay on her pillow.

Real.

The night deepened.

And across den, borderland, and bloodstained council, fates moved unseen , threads weaving tighter toward a reckoning none would escape.