Chapter 2 Stormveil

The gates didn't open all at once. They dragged, iron on stone, like even the land wasn't sure if it wanted me inside.

Fog poured through the cracks. It carried the smell of pine, smoke, and rain that hadn't fallen yet.

Stormveil.

Ashfall had polished arches and ceremony, banners snapping against clean sky. Stormveil had shadows tucked into stone and wood gone dark with age. Ivy crept up walls no one bothered trimming back. It looked less like a pack and more like something carved out of the wild and left to breathe on its own.

Corin walked ahead of me. He hadn't said more than a handful of words since pulling me out of the inn. Broad shoulders. Straight back. His silence was worse than hostility-it made me feel like a question he didn't want to answer.

People stared as we passed. Some wolves mid-training stopped mid-motion, blades frozen in the air. Children peered from behind doorframes. Their eyes were silver, sharp. They didn't blink.

"Do they all stare like that?" I muttered after the fifth pair refused to look away.

Corin didn't bother to turn. Didn't say a word.

I hated that. The not-answer.

He led me through the northern edge, past the barracks burned black, past shrines cracked down the middle. Up a narrow slope that opened onto a ravine. The water below slammed against stone like it was trying to break free.

And built into the cliff-my quarters.

A plain door. Iron hinges. No carvings. No welcome.

"This was planned," I said before I could stop myself.

Corin's face didn't shift. "The Alpha does not extend accidents."

The words hit like stone. Heavy. Final.

He handed me a bundle. Leather-wrapped, weighty. "The mark will burn when the contract seals. You don't scream, do you?"

I met his stare. "Not anymore."

His mouth twitched. Almost approval. Then he was gone.

The room waited. Small. Stone walls damp in places. Furs folded on a ledge that passed for a bed. One narrow window that looked straight down into the ravine. On the table: a silver bowl, a blade, the contract already waiting.

My name was on it. His too.

Kael Drenmore.

The letters seemed heavier than the ink that made them.

I pressed my thumb to the parchment. The sting came fast, like the magic didn't even need convincing. Blood hit the page.

The mark ignited on my back, just below the shoulder blade. I bit my teeth so hard the edge of the stone table cracked beneath my fingers.

It burned worse than Ashfall ever had. But I didn't scream.

By dusk, the glow had faded. Skin raw, but no longer shining. I lay awake in the dark, sheets cold against the sweat on my skin. Dreaming in broken flashes when sleep caught me. Silver eyes. Thunder deep under rock. Something calling from below the cliffs.

Once, I woke to the scent of pine and blood in the hall. Someone had passed by my door. Or maybe stood outside it.

When I opened the door, no one was there.

The next morning, a voice came through the wood.

"The Alpha is ready."

No knock. No patience. Just a summons.

I followed the hall to a chamber cut from black stone. No guards lined the walls. No elders stood waiting. Just one man.

Kael stood with his back to me, looking out at the cliffs through wide windows. Wind whipped the dark strands of his hair.

"Lyra," he said.

My throat closed for a second before the words came. "Alpha Drenmore."

His tone stayed even. "Do you understand the terms?"

"Yes."

"Do you intend to break them?"

"No."

Only then did he turn.

Kael wasn't handsome in the way Cian had been. No polished lines, no charm meant to dazzle. He looked carved out of storms, built of scars and silence. A man who carried wreckage and never put it down.

His gaze held me in place. Seeing too much, maybe more than even I knew.

"You're smaller than I expected," he said.

"You're quieter than I expected," I shot back before thinking better of it.

His mouth almost moved. Almost. Like he hadn't expected me to bite back.

"You'll be presented to the council tomorrow."

"Presented?" The word tasted bitter.

"They need to see what they're paying for."

Heat climbed up my throat. "Is that all I am to you?"

"No." His voice stayed steady. "You're also leverage."

"And here I thought I was just presence."

He stepped closer, and the air shifted. Not close enough to touch me, but enough that my body betrayed me with the pulse jumping under my skin.

"You are," he said quietly. "Until you're not."

I didn't flinch. Didn't look away. And something flickered in his eyes at that-curiosity, maybe. Or warning.

He waved me off like I was already dismissed. And I left, heat still crawling under my skin like a second mark.

The air outside felt different. Charged. Thunder rolled though the sky above was empty of clouds.

And as I walked away, I swore I heard his voice again. Not to me. To someone else.

"She doesn't know yet."

The words stuck to me like claws.

That evening I wandered. East wing. Less guarded. More wild. Stone paths cut into woods. Symbols carved into markers I couldn't read.

One caught my hand-a crescent with three dots beneath it.

When my fingers brushed it, the air thickened.

Not memory. Not mine. Something older.

A whisper slid through the silence.

Moonbound.

My stomach lurched. I spun.

Nothing. Empty path. Empty woods.

By the time I made it back to my room, something waited on the table.

A necklace. Thin silver chain. Pendant shaped like a broken circle. On the back, words etched in fine hand:

You've been here before.

The breath caught in my chest. I had never stepped foot in Stormveil until yesterday. Never.

And yet my bones... disagreed.

I didn't put it on. Couldn't. It sat cold in my palm while I tried to sleep.

That night, I dreamed.

Three wolves stood at the edge of a river turned red.

One with frost eyes.

One burning fire through his veins.

One who never turned.

They circled me, waiting. I reached out. The sky tore open like paper.

A voice I didn't know whispered through me.

Stormveil remembers what you forgot.

I woke gasping.

The necklace was gone.

And in the stillness beyond my door, I heard it-Kael's voice, low, speaking to no one.

"She doesn't remember yet. But the storm does."