Struggles and Shadows
The tension in Crimson Fang was suffocating. Warriors clashed in the training yard, their usual discipline replaced by raw frustration. Snarls and shouted accusations echoed through the crisp morning air as sparring matches spiraled into bitter arguments.
Draven stood on the balcony overlooking the scene, his amber eyes dark with thought. His broad shoulders seemed heavier, his clenched fists resting on the wooden railing. Below, a young wolf shoved his sparring partner to the ground, growling, “If you can’t hold the line, what good are you?”
Susan appeared beside Draven, her presence as sharp as her words. “They’re floundering,” she said without preamble. “You need to snap them out of this.”
“They’re grieving,” Draven replied, his growl barely contained. “And they’re right to be angry. I let Malrik walk away with the Moon Amulet.”
Susan’s eyes hardened. “And you brought Isla back. That’s what matters. But if you don’t give them a direction soon, they’ll tear themselves apart.”
Draven exhaled heavily, his gaze fixed on the warriors below. “Malrik has the upper hand now. If we misstep, it won’t just be Isla and the twins we lose. It’ll be everything.”
Susan placed a hand on his shoulder, her tone softening slightly. “They still believe in you, Draven. Don’t let that slip away.”
Inside the packhouse, Isla sat with Alaric in the war room, the weight of their shared burdens heavy in the air. The flickering firelight cast shadows across the maps spread on the table, the lines and markings telling the story of a war yet to be fought.
Alaric’s golden eyes were grim as he spoke. “The Moon Amulet makes Malrik nearly untouchable, but it’s not invincible. He’s drawing power from it, but his obsession with control is also a weakness.”
Isla frowned, her hand instinctively resting on her growing belly. “What are you suggesting, Alaric?”
He leaned forward, his voice low but urgent. “Your connection to the Moon Goddess isn’t just some symbolic bond, Isla. It’s real. If you can tap into it, you could counteract his power.”
Her silver eyes widened as she processed his words. “But I don’t even know where to begin. Malrik tried to suppress my connection—how can I fight something I don’t understand?”
Alaric’s expression was serious, almost reverent. “It’s not just about you, Isla. Your bloodline is tied to something ancient and powerful. You’ve only scratched the surface of what you’re capable of.”
The fire crackled as Isla looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. “How do I unlock that power?”
