Shadows of Ambition
Seraphine stormed through the corridors of the Midnight Crest packhouse, her thoughts swirling like a storm. The revelation about her and Isla’s adoption had shattered the foundation of her identity, leaving a bitter void in its place. Worse still was Sorcha’s prophecy, a weight that now pressed against her chest with every breath.
Two wolves, bound by blood yet not of blood. One to bring salvation. One to bring ruin.
For years, Seraphine had been certain Isla was the doom foretold. It made sense—her sister had always been the weaker one, the outcast, the rogue. Seraphine had thrived in the spotlight, securing her place as the perfect daughter, the favored heir. But now, the roles had reversed, and the thought of it made her stomach churn.
She reached her chambers and slammed the door behind her. The air was thick with the scent of lavender, a fragrance she had once found soothing but now felt cloying and oppressive. Her eyes darted to the mirror, where her reflection stared back, mocking her.
“Ruin?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with anger. “They think I’m the one to doom this pack?”
She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she paced the room. The prophecy didn’t matter. Sorcha didn’t matter. All that mattered was restoring her place, reclaiming the power that was rightfully hers. And to do that, she needed to eliminate Isla once and for all.
***
Meanwhile, in Crimson Fang, the celebrations over Isla’s transformation had yet to subside. The pack buzzed with excitement, their reverence for her white wolf growing with every retelling of her shift under the moonlight. The elders, who had once doubted her, now spoke of her lineage with awe.
“She’s descended from the Moon Goddess herself,” Morvin said during a council meeting, his voice filled with rare enthusiasm. “There hasn’t been a wolf like her in centuries. She’s a blessing to this pack.”
Draven listened in silence, his face unreadable. He should have felt vindicated by the elders’ change in tone, but his mind lingered on Isla. Her shift had been miraculous, yes, but her unease afterward had not gone unnoticed. She was still adjusting, still unsure of her place. And though she hid it well, Draven could sense the lingering fear beneath her surface.
“Focus on preparing for the ceremony,” he said, his tone firm but distracted. “The pack will expect perfection.”
The elders nodded, but Jamie, standing nearby, leaned closer to Draven as they exited the meeting. “You’re worried about her,” Jamie said, his voice low.
Draven didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was quiet. “She’s strong, but she’s been through more than most wolves could survive. I need to make sure she knows she’s not alone.”
Jamie smirked faintly. “You’ve got a soft spot, Alpha. Don’t let the pack catch wind of it.”
Draven shot him a warning glance, but Jamie only chuckled and left.
