Kael’s POV

The rogues lay scattered, their blood already cooling in the dirt. Mira wiped her blade without looking at me. Her shoulders were rigid, her pulse was still.

Mira approached, but I shifted my hand, covering the mark before she noticed. She asked if I was injured.

The metal was old, carved with the Windermere crest, half-sun, half-claw. My wolf stirred restlessly, growling low. He didn’t like what it meant either.

Cyrus arrived with his men, scanning the clearing. “Report,” he barked. I said it was a border breach, probably rogue scouts from the north ridge. The lie came out smooth, almost too easy.

Seraphine’s scent hit next, sharp and cold. She took in the sight of Mira standing close, and her expression hardened. “Convenient,” she murmured. “Trouble seems to follow her.” Mira ignored the jab.

The tension between them thickened until I cut through it. “Enough. Secure the perimeter.” Neither liked the order, but they obeyed. Authority wasn’t something I explained twice.

A young scout rushed forward. His face was pale, his hand shaking as he pointed toward the dirt. “Alpha… look.” There were marks, rough scratches made by a dying hand. My name, carved shallow into the ground.

The scout backed away fast. Mira’s gaze met mine briefly. She didn’t ask what it meant. I didn’t answer what she didn’t ask.

I wanted answers, not noise. “Who sent you?” I demanded. He laughed weakly. “She did.” The words slithered out with his last breath. Then silence.

I waited for him to revive. He didn’t. My wolf pushed against my control, demanding to confront Mira, but I locked the urge down. There was no proof. Only words meant to wound.

When I got into camp, Mira was at the infirmary tending to a few injured scouts. She didn’t look up until I stood close. “You found something,” she said quietly.

Her voice was too calm. I met her stare and said, “Not yet.” It was the truth, just not the whole of it. She nodded once, like she expected that answer.

“You shouldn’t keep walking into danger,” I muttered. “Neither should you,” she replied. The air between us grew taut again, stretched by what we didn’t say.

Seraphine’s voice cut through before I could reply. She’d brought two council envoys, each wearing the crest of Blackridge. “The Elders want your statement,” she said sharply. “About the breach and… your patrol companion.”

Her tone was loaded, but I didn’t bite. “Later,” I said. “When the wounded are stable.” She pressed for more, but the look I gave her ended it.

Hours later, in the council hall, the interrogation began. They wanted details. I gave them what they needed, not what they craved. I left out the pendant, the mark, and the dying rogue’s words.

An Elder leaned forward. “You were alone with her again?” His tone wasn’t accusative, it was curiosity wrapped in warning. I didn’t blink. “She’s under my protection,” I said.

Seraphine’s lips curled faintly. “And perhaps still under your claim.” The Elders shifted uncomfortably. I let the silence weigh on them until one finally cleared his throat to end the session.

Outside, Cyrus waited. “You’re hiding something,” he said. His voice wasn’t angry, just tired. “If it’s about Mira, don’t. Secrets burn bridges.”

“Then let them burn,” I answered, walking past him. He didn’t stop me. He knew better than to argue when my wolf was this close to the surface.

That night, I laid the pendant on my desk. The crest caught the light, mocking me with its clarity. Windermere hadn’t been active in years. Not since the purge. Not since Mira vanished from that world.

I remembered her scent on the old battleground, spiced with iron and ash. Back then, I thought fate brought her into my territory. Now I wasn’t so sure it hadn’t been something darker.

There was a knock at the door. I didn’t answer. The knock came again, softer. Mira. I could sense her energy, raw and conflicted. She lingered for a moment, then turned away.

I picked up the pendant again, sliding it into my pocket. My wolf muttered that fate was circling, that what I’d buried was clawing back to the surface.

When I finally left my quarters, the night air felt charged. I made my way to the southern ridge, the one place untouched by the earlier fight. I needed clarity, not company.

Halfway there, I caught a faint hum and the trace of Mira’s energy. She’d been here recently.

On one of them, carved deep into bark still bleeding sap, was another sigil. Windermere’s. Fresh. Beneath it, faint streaks of blood. Hers.

My jaw locked. Whoever had done this wanted me to find it. Wanted me to doubt her. My wolf didn’t know which truth hurt more, that it could be her or someone was using her to get to me.

I didn’t call for backup. I couldn’t risk anyone else seeing it. The council already doubted my objectivity. If they learned her blood was tied to the mark, they’d question more than loyalty; they’d question lineage.

The forest rustled behind me. My hand went to my weapon, but it was only a fox darting past. Still, instinct kept me tense. This wasn’t random. None of it was.

By dawn, I’d buried the pendant deep beneath a fallen trunk, marking the location only in my mind. Secrets had to stay where they couldn’t be weaponized.

When I returned, Seraphine was waiting. “You left before sunrise,” she said smoothly. “Planning to share what you found?”

I met her gaze, cold and unflinching. “No.” She smiled thinly. “Then you’ve just confirmed there’s something to hide.” Her satisfaction was deliberate, dangerous.

Later, in the training field, Cyrus called out reports of new tracks near the border. I gave orders automatically, mind elsewhere. Mira stood apart, watching me with quiet unease.

When I dismissed the scouts, she approached. “Something’s coming,” she said softly. “I can feel it.” I didn’t tell her I’d already seen proof. Instead, I said, “Stay within the main grounds tonight.”

She frowned. “You’re not telling me something.” Her tone wasn’t accusatory; it was knowing. I looked at her and said, “Not yet.”

I thought of the dying rogue’s final words. She called us. Maybe not her, maybe something wearing her scent.

Outside, thunder rolled. I stood, drawn by instinct to the window. The trees beyond her quarters swayed hard under the wind, bending low. Then I saw it.

A new mark. Carved deeper, glowing faintly against the bark. The same sigil, burned clean. Windermere’s crest, fresh and alive.

Right below Mira’s window.

My wolf surged, every sense on fire. Whatever game this was, it had just come home.