Chapter 104 – The Ones Left Behind
The midday sun blazed high in the sky, casting long beams through the towering trees that surrounded the packhouse. The scent of ash, herbs, and earth hung heavy in the air as warriors rushed to and from the supply depot, arms laden with weapons, warding stones, and bundles of herbs from Avella’s store.
But Giselle stood apart from the chaos, her gaze fixed on the line of pack members making their way toward the mountain’s edge.
Children clung to their mothers’ hands, some wide-eyed with confusion, others fighting tears. The elderly walked slower, aided by younger wolves or crutches, some of them muttering under their breath about how they were too old to be hiding when the blood of their kin would be spilled. A few injured warriors with bandaged limbs and haunted expressions limped along behind them, teeth clenched in frustration.
Giselle had already walked the hidden path once that morning—twice, just to be sure. It wound through a thick stretch of pine woods before vanishing behind a moss-covered stone outcrop. Few in the pack even knew the place existed.
A tunnel, ancient and lined with root-laced stone, led beneath the mountain to a cavern deep underground—cool, secure, and sealed by a heavy reinforced iron gate. And beyond that, should everything go to hell, there was an emergency tunnel barely wide enough for two people side-by-side that opened out on the far side of the mountain ridge.
No one but the Alpha, his Beta, the healer, and now her, knew about that escape route.
Not even Rhea.
*Especially not Rhea.*
She pressed a hand to her stomach, exhaling slowly as she tried to push down the anxiety crawling beneath her skin.
“You’re sure they’ll be safe?” came a quiet voice beside her.
Giselle turned to find Charlie standing near, her expression tight with worry, Liam hovering protectively at her back.
Giselle nodded. “It’s sealed with both stone and witchcraft. Avella layered the wards herself, and Kalen personally double-checked the entrance.” She paused. “There’s a second exit, too. Hidden beyond the cliffs on the northern ridge. If the worst happens, they’ll have a way out.”
Charlie let out a shaky breath. “I just… I know how fast battles turn. And if Rhea finds a way through…”
“She won’t.” Giselle said it with more confidence than she felt, but it needed to be said.
She turned back toward the tree line, watching as the last of the non-combatants disappeared down the trail, the guards falling into position behind them. Warriors would hold the path until the last second, then slip away and vanish like ghosts into the woods.
This was their final contingency.
And it was already in motion.
From behind her, bootsteps approached, and Giselle turned to see Rowan making his way toward them. His jaw was tight, tension written in the set of his shoulders and the stiffness of his stride. His armor wasn't on yet, but the war was already in his eyes.
“I thought I told you to rest,” he said, though his voice lacked any real fire.
“I did.” She crossed her arms. “Then I got up and decided to help.”
His gaze swept over her—checking for signs of lingering weakness, no doubt—but when he found none, he just sighed. “They're almost ready,” he said quietly. “By the time the sun sets, the traps will be set. And once the stars rise, we move.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she looked toward the fading trail where the youngest of their pack had just vanished from sight. “Do you think we’ll win?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rowan followed her gaze. “We don’t have the luxury of losing.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.” He glanced down at her, his hand brushing against hers. “It’s not.”
Giselle swallowed thickly. “There are kids down there, Rowan. Babies who’ve never shifted. Elders who can’t even hear anymore. If something happens…”
“If something happens,” he said firmly, “we die before they get touched. Every one of us.”
She looked up at him, eyes burning. “I’m not ready to lose this. Any of it.”
“You’re not going to.”
She nodded once, forcing down the fear in her throat and replacing it with the steel she’d seen in Rowan’s eyes so many times before.
Then, out of the corner of her vision, she caught movement.
Seren.
The young witch walked toward them with the quiet grace of moonlight, her long pale hair woven with silver thread. Her mismatched eyes—one a deep violet, the other a pale icy blue—found Giselle’s instantly.
She smiled faintly, as though she’d been expecting to join them at that very moment.
“I wouldn’t worry,” she said softly, her voice carrying with a strange certainty that made both Rowan and Giselle still. “The Goddess sees all. She’s already making a way for what comes after.”
Giselle frowned. “You saw that?”
“I saw enough,” Seren replied, her gaze settling on her again. “Hold the line. Trust each other. That’s all that matters now. The rest will come.”
Then she reached forward, brushing two fingers gently against Giselle’s arm, her voice low enough only Giselle could hear.
“And don’t fear what will rise from the ashes. The moon always returns.”
Seren’s fingers lingered against Giselle’s arm for just a moment longer before she pulled away, her otherworldly gaze steady, as though she could see something beneath Giselle’s skin—something Giselle hadn’t yet discovered herself.
"You are stronger than even you know,” Seren said, her voice still soft but suddenly charged with a quiet power that made the hair rise on the back of Giselle’s neck. “Not just in body or spirit… but in soul. You carry something inside you that was chosen long before you were born.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed, unsettled. “Chosen for what?”
Seren didn’t answer right away. She looked between Rowan and Giselle, the wind catching the edge of her cloak and fluttering it like a banner.
“You were never meant to walk a path apart from him,” she said finally, turning fully toward Rowan now. “He was forged in fire. And you—” her eyes flicked back to Giselle, “—you are the anchor that tempers it.”
Giselle blinked, her throat suddenly tight.
Seren stepped closer now, lowering her voice again as she spoke directly to her. “So long as you choose him—again and again, even when it’s hard, even when it hurts—he won’t fall. And if he doesn’t fall, neither will this pack.”
“Choose him?” Giselle echoed, unsure she fully understood.
Seren’s head tilted, and for the first time, she looked…sad. “Love isn’t just a feeling, Giselle. It’s a choice. And there will come a moment, very soon, when everything inside you will scream to run. To give in to fear. But if you stand by him instead… you’ll win.”
The words sank deep, anchoring themselves in Giselle’s chest like a weight and a promise.
Rowan stepped forward, his voice quiet and tense. “You saw something else.”
Seren didn’t answer, not directly. She simply looked to the horizon where the sun was beginning its slow descent, gilding the treetops in orange light.
“I’ve seen enough to know your fates are woven tighter than you think,” she said at last, her voice almost lost on the wind. “And that there’s more at play than rogues and revenge. What comes tonight… is just the beginning.”
Then, as if the moment had passed, she turned from them and began walking back toward the preparation tents, her long cloak trailing behind her.
Giselle stared after her, a hollow ache growing in her chest. “She’s not just talking about this war,” she murmured.
Rowan’s jaw clenched beside her. “No,” he said. “She’s not.”
Giselle turned to look at him. “Then whatever’s coming… we face it together.”
His gaze dropped to hers, the heat and devotion there grounding her more than any spell or vision ever could. “Always.”
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