The Night of Shadows
The dreams dragged Isla into their clutches once more, vivid and all-consuming. She stood barefoot in a silver-lit clearing, her breath fogging in the cold air. Malrik waited for her, the Lupine Crown perched in his hands like a dark promise.
“Do you see it now, Isla?” His voice curled around her like smoke. “This is what you were meant for—beyond these walls, beyond the weight of the children inside you. Let go, and you’ll rise.”
“Never,” Isla spat, her voice a trembling defiance. But the moonlight seemed to dim as Malrik’s laughter echoed, and the forest swallowed her whole.
She woke with a start, her body drenched in sweat, the chill of the dream lingering in the room. The bed beside her was cold and empty—Draven had been called to oversee the night patrols. The eerie silence of the packhouse settled heavily around her.
A sudden creak made her bolt upright, heart pounding. Before she could call out, the door burst open. Malrik stood in the doorway, his gray eyes faintly glowing, casting an unholy shimmer in the dim light. His expression was calm, almost apologetic, as he raised a small, humming device.
“Don’t scream,” Malrik murmured, his tone soft but unyielding.
Isla’s body betrayed her before she could react—her muscles locked, her voice strangled in her throat. The hum of the device grew louder, and she realized with horror what it was: a wolf mind-control relic, ancient and forbidden.
Malrik stepped closer, his sickly frame shadowed by the flickering torchlight. “I told you, Isla,” he whispered, his voice like a caress. “Your destiny is far greater than this… domestic life. You’re meant for more. But you can’t carry that destiny while bound by the weight of children you didn’t choose.”
“You’re insane,” Isla managed to choke out, though her body refused to obey her desperate urge to fight.
Malrik tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he was determined to solve. “Perhaps. But I see what others don’t. And you’ll see it too, in time.”
He reached out, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face with surprising gentleness. “You’ll thank me one day,” he murmured, his lips curling into a faint smile.
With a flick of his wrist, he silenced the device, but Isla’s strength didn’t return. Her vision swam as a dark fog overtook her senses. The last thing she heard before succumbing to unconsciousness was Malrik’s whisper: “You’re coming with me.”
