Chapter 3 Chap

The night had grown colder, the wind threading through the trees like a whispering ghost. Kael, Kieran, and Aria sat around a crackling fire, its warm glow casting flickering shadows over their faces. The flames licked at the darkness, and the scent of burning wood mingled with damp earth and pine.

Kael leaned forward, his eyes hard, voice low. "We need allies. We're not strong enough to take on Malakai's pack alone."

Kieran nodded, gaze distant in thought. "There's a nearby pack-rogues, mostly. They've kept their distance from Malakai. If we approach them carefully, they might help us."

Aria felt the first flicker of real hope settle in her chest. "That could work," she said, though doubt tugged at her. "But what if they're afraid of him? What if he's already gotten to them?"

Kael's jaw tightened. "Maybe. But we don't have a choice. Malakai doesn't stop. He crushes, controls, conquers. He's already forced half the packs around here into submission."

Aria shivered, not from the cold, but from the memory. "What drives him?" she asked, her voice soft. "Why is he like this?"

"Power," Kael said simply. "The kind that rots everything it touches."

Their fire crackled louder as silence fell. The plan was fragile. But it was something.

Then-a snap. Loud. Sharp. Too close.

Kael shot up, every muscle coiled. "We're not alone," he muttered, his voice like gravel scraping steel.

From the trees, golden eyes emerged-dozens. Wolves stepped into the clearing, their bodies lean, ready to kill. Each one bore the mark of Malakai.

Aria's stomach dropped.

Kael moved instantly, stepping in front of her, bow raised. Kieran joined him, crouched and tense.

"Protect her," Kael whispered to his brother without looking back.

The wolves charged.

The clearing erupted into chaos-fur, claws, teeth. Kael moved like lightning, loosing arrows that cut through the dark. Kieran fought beside him, fast and fierce, but the pack was too large. Too relentless.

Kael took a blow to the side-then another. Blood streaked his fur, and he stumbled, breath coming ragged.

Aria froze.

Fear rooted her in place, her pulse thunderous in her ears. Kael was bleeding. The wolves were winning.

She couldn't let this happen.

A scream built in her throat but never came. Instead, something broke free-rage. She ran.

Not away from the fight.

Into it.

Then past it.

She tore through the trees, drawing the wolves with her. She didn't look back, didn't slow. Her breath burned. The stream loomed ahead-she dove in, cold water shocking her to her core.

The wolves followed.

Kael collapsed behind her, and Kieran caught him, dragging him into the brush as the enemy gave chase. His brother's weight was heavy, but Kieran didn't stop. He couldn't.

But Aria... Aria was caught.

One of them tackled her mid-run. Jaws clamped around her arm. She kicked, twisted, fought-but more followed. Too many. They dragged her down, fangs sinking in, fur matted with blood and river water.

The forest vanished behind her as they pulled her into darkness.

The lair stank of damp stone and blood. Shadows stretched across the carved walls, flickering with each passing torch.

Aria's knees hit the floor hard. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her limbs trembled from the fight-and the cold chain now clamped around her wrists.

Before her, the throne loomed.

And on it-Malakai.

The throne had once been her father's. Stained oak. Broad, imposing. It used to smell of forest bark and old incense.

Now it reeked of blood.

Malakai sat like a king carved from shadow, one leg thrown over the other, a satisfied smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

"Welcome back, Aria," he drawled, his voice smooth and sharp, like glass dragged across stone. "I wondered when you'd come home."

Aria spit blood from her mouth and glared at him, even as two guards tightened their grip on her arms.

"I didn't come willingly," she snarled.

Malakai rose, his steps echoing like thunder. "No. But that doesn't matter. You're mine now."

With a flick of his hand, the guards shoved her to the floor. Chains clinked. Pain flared in her ribs. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

"You'll stay here," he said. "Until I decide what to do with you."

His grin widened, cruel and cold.

"When that time comes... you'll beg for mercy."

She didn't respond.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

He turned away with a wave, and the guards dragged her down the dark corridor, past damp stone and rusted iron.

They threw her into a cell.

The door slammed shut.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

She was alone.

But she wasn't broken. Not yet.