Chapter 4 The howl beneath the stone

Silence.

Not the comforting quiet of a forest at dusk or the stillness of dawn.

This was a void. A breathless, bone deep nothing that wrapped around Aria like a shroud. She floated in it-suspended between flame and frost, sound and shadow.

Then came the whispers. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Words half-formed, carried on unseen winds.

"Blood of the first moon..." "...betrayer's kin..." "...lost child... broken fate..."

She reached out, but her hands passed through mist. Her feet found no ground. And then a heartbeat. Her own.

It thundered once, Twice. Then light exploded around her, casting the void into sharp relief. She stood in a stone chamber ringed with ethereal wolves spirits made of starlight and smoke. In the center, a dais carved with the sigils of every known pack.

The Trial of Echoes had begun in truth.

A massive wolf stepped forward. Its fur shimmered like obsidian, eyes molten gold.

"I am Fenric, First Alpha of the Hollowshade. Speak, Aria Moonstone. What claims your howl?" She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I didn't ask for this power. But I won't run from it. I want to understand who I am-and why she hunts me.

" A ripple passed through the spectral circle. A white wolf stepped forward. Her aura colder. Sharper.

"I am Lira of the Iceborne, Daughter of treason. Tell us would you choose loyalty or truth, when the two are no longer the same?"

Aria met her gaze. "Truth. Always."

"Even if it shatters the pack?"

"Especially then."

More murmurs. Approval. Doubt.

Then Fenric spoke again.

"We will show you what was hidden. What was lost. But be warned, child memory can wound deeper than fang." The dais flared with light. And the past opened wide. The visions came in waves hot, blinding, relentless.

She saw a battlefield beneath the Blood Moon. Wolves clashing, howls of rage and agony splitting the air.

Her father young, fierce, coated in blood-not yet an Alpha but already a legend. At his side was another: a woman with hair like snow and eyes like violet fire.

Nyra. Not as she was now a shade twisted by fury-but a warrior, proud and whole. They fought together. Side by side.

Then the scene shifted. Aria saw her father arguing with the Council, demanding that Nyra be spared.

"She defied the blood rites to save innocent lives," he growled.

"We call ourselves protectors but we bury truth in silence!"

Elder Rhys's voice echoed back. "She broke sacred law. No mercy can undo the breach." Her father's last words in that vision chilled her: "If you banish her you banish me."

And they did The vision twisted again. Flames now. Hollowshade burning. The moon stained red.

Nyra stood alone on a cliff, arms raised, chanting in a forgotten tongue. Spirits rose from the earth wailing, lost. Aria saw the ritual.

The blood spilled. The pact made. And then a child.

Her, Hidden in the roots of the Moon Tree. Whispered over by Nyra.

"You will be the cure to my curse, little one." Aria stumbled back from the vision, gasping. The spirits surrounded her again.

Silent now. Waiting.

Fenric's voice was softer.

"You are not merely heir to your father's name. You are part of the oath that broke the world." Aria steadied herself.

"Then I'll be the one to mend it." Lira stepped forward.

"Prove it."

From the center of the dais rose a weapon

a blade carved from moonstone and obsidian, humming with ancient power.

"The Blade of Truth. If you are worthy, it will awaken for you. If not... it will burn the lie from your soul."

Aria reached out. The moment her fingers touched it, the world fractured.

A scream tore from her throat not of pain, but of memory. Everything rushed in at once.

Her father's death. Nyra's sorrow. The voice in the flame.

Then clarity. The blade pulsed. Not with destruction. With light. The spirits howled as one.

"She is the Howl Reborn," Fenric said. "The lost daughter," Lira added. "The bridge between past and future," whispered another. Then all at once, they vanished. The chamber dimmed. And Aria stood alone, weapon in hand, breath steady. When she emerged from the trial room, the Council was waiting.

Elder Rhys's eyes narrowed.

"What did you see?" She met his gaze.

"The truth you tried to bury." The air shifted. Tension snapped taut. And somewhere in the shadows of the Tribunal, a familiar voice laughed.

Nyra. Not a memory. Not a vision. She was here.

And she had come to claim what was hers.