Legacy of the Wolf

Chapter Eleven

The sky was painted in deep, dusky colors as the sun set over the clearing, casting the Gathering in a surreal glow. The air was thick with excitement and the sound of murmured conversations, and wolves of all ranks moved about, mingling in anticipation of the main event. Mira walked with the Blackwoods toward the lodge, her stomach a tight knot of anxiety. She hadn't seen Lucas since the night before, hadn't even been able to sense his presence, and it left her feeling strangely vulnerable.

With her telepathy unresponsive, Mira was trapped in her own mind, alone with her racing thoughts. The absence of Lucas's comforting presence was more noticeable than ever, gnawing at her as she followed the Blackwoods through the throng of pack members. Something felt wrong. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into a carefully laid trap, the tension simmering in her chest like a ticking time bomb.

As they reached the lodge, Mr. Blackwood gave her a tight nod, his expression serious. "Stay calm," he murmured under his breath, his voice so low that only she could hear. She swallowed hard, clinging to those words as she stepped inside.

The lodge was dimly lit, an austere space with a stone fireplace at one end and long tables lining the walls. Pack leaders from nearby territories had gathered, their gazes sharp as they turned to observe her entrance. Alaric sat at the head of the main table, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction that made Mira's skin crawl. As she entered, he motioned for her to approach, his smile cold and unfeeling.

"Mira," Alaric said, his voice smooth as silk. "Thank you for joining us."

Mira took a deep breath, fighting to steady herself. She kept her face neutral, giving only a slight nod. "Alpha," she acknowledged, careful not to let her voice betray the storm brewing within her.

The council members exchanged looks, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and something else—pity. She felt the weight of their gazes pressing down on her, suffocating her with their silent judgment. Alaric cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling back on her.

"It seems that some of you may be... curious about what lies ahead for Mira here," Alaric began, his voice casual but with an unmistakable edge. "As you know, she is unique. Her shifting has come... later than expected. And as such, it raises certain concerns for her place within our pack."

Mira clenched her fists, her pulse pounding in her ears. The words were thinly veiled, crafted to imply her inferiority, her supposed failure. The pitying looks only fueled the anger simmering within her.

"She's been raised well," one elder remarked, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. "But I can see the reasoning behind this decision. Not every wolf is destined for greatness. Some of us must serve... in other ways."

Mira's heart hammered as the elder's words hit her like a blow. She scanned the room, her eyes searching for even a single ally, but all she found were judgmental stares and murmurs of agreement. Alaric watched her, his smile growing as he seemed to enjoy every second of her discomfort.

Another leader leaned forward, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "Mira," he said kindly, though his words still felt hollow, "surely you understand this is for the best. Your parents were great wolves. They would want you to find peace in the role the pack has chosen for you."

Her fists clenched at her sides, anger and frustration burning hot beneath her skin. How dare they invoke her parents' memory, twisting it to justify their plan to make her a servant, a pawn in their cruel games. She fought to keep her breathing steady, but it felt like her wolf was clawing at her from within, the restless energy building with each moment.

"Peace," she repeated, her voice taut, barely controlled. "Is that what you call it?"

Alaric's eyes gleamed, and he rose from his seat, his gaze locked on her. "It's the best you can hope for," he said, his tone colder now, harsh and unyielding. "You are not fit to lead, Mira. And without a shift, without proof of your worth, there is no place for you here among the strongest. Your fate lies in service, and that is final."

Her mind spun, her chest heaving as anger surged through her veins. The room seemed to close in on her, the oppressive weight of their judgment stifling, suffocating. The moonlight filtered in through the lodge's high windows, casting silvery beams across the room—and as it touched her skin, something inside her snapped.

A searing heat coursed through her, wild and unstoppable, and before she could even comprehend what was happening, her bones began to shift, her muscles straining and contorting. Pain tore through her as her body transformed, but beneath it all was a fierce, uncontainable power—a power that felt like her birthright, like something that had been dormant for too long, finally set free.

Gasps and murmurs filled the room as she completed her shift, her wolf standing before the council in a stance that was both regal and terrifying. She could see the fear and awe in their eyes as they took in her form—her fur, a rich, silvery-gray that was the very image of her father's; her stance, proud and unyielding like her mother's. She could feel her wolf's intent etched across her face, a murderous edge that left no doubt of the rage simmering within her.

For a brief, intense moment, she was on the verge of lunging at Alaric, her anger blinding her to everything else. Her mind flooded with memories of her family, of the life stolen from her, and she saw him for the monster he truly was. But then, like a spark in the darkness, she sensed something—Lucas's presence, faint but unmistakable.

The connection jolted her back to reality, and she focused, her wolf's heightened senses picking up his scent, his heartbeat... and the unmistakable scent of blood.

Lucas was in danger.

Without another thought, she turned and bolted, ignoring the cries of the council behind her as she tore through the lodge and into the night. Her heart raced as she followed the scent, her paws pounding against the earth, her wolf's instincts guiding her through the darkness. Lucas's presence was fading, weak and flickering like a dying ember, and the desperation clawed at her as she pushed herself harder, faster.

Her thoughts raced as she closed the distance, fear mingling with her rage. She had been so close to unleashing her fury on Alaric, but now, all she could think about was getting to Lucas, keeping him safe. She could feel the bond between them, an invisible thread tying her to him, drawing her forward.

The forest was dark and dense, shadows stretching out like claws around her, but she pressed on, her senses fixed on Lucas's fading presence. When she finally reached him, the sight stopped her in her tracks—Lucas lay on the ground, his body battered and bruised, his breathing shallow as he struggled to lift his head.

"Mira..." he managed, his voice a hoarse whisper, but she didn't let him say more. She nudged his side gently, her wolf whimpering as she took in the extent of his injuries.

Anger flared anew within her, but this time it was a cold, calculated rage. Alaric had orchestrated this, had sent Lucas away, weakened him, all to keep him from helping her. She lowered her head, a silent promise glinting in her eyes as she stood protectively over Lucas, her mind racing with a single, burning resolve.

Alaric would pay for this. For everything.

But first, she needed to get Lucas to safety.