Chapter 62
The Noskari followed him, exactly as Kaldrek had hoped they would. It bought Evelyne time. It bought his pack time. For now, that was enough to make the risk worth it, even if the cost would be his own.
The thought had been building for days. Kaldrek knew drawing from the soil, the stone, and the natural elements of the land would never be enough.
It was useful, yes, but not for this. Not for battle.
Not for what was coming. He needed something greater, something deeper, something powerful enough to meet the darkness hunting them.
He did not understand what thrummed through the Solwyn Tree’s roots, and he did not have time to.
But it was a possibility. A chance. And if he had even a fraction of Vaelora’s capacity for power, then maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.
The Noskari were coming. He could feel them pressing closer with every passing second, like a storm gathering just beyond sight.
So he ran. The grove rose before him, ancient and silent beneath the night sky.
At its heart stood the Solwyn Tree, unmoving, yet alive in a way that made the air vibrate with quiet power.
Kaldrek shifted mid-stride, bones cracking and reforming as he returned to human form, then dropped to his knees at the base of the trunk and pressed both palms to the bark.
The tree answered with enough force to knock the air from his lungs.
Power roared beneath his hands, ripping through his arms and into his chest, rattling his bones so violently it nearly threw him back.
This was nothing like the soft, responsive hum he had seen when Alia or Cillian touched it.
This was recognition. Recognition of his blood. And beneath it waited something colder.
A warning.
The bark pulsed beneath his palms as the energy gathered, rising through the trunk and thickening the air around him until a voice pressed into him from every direction at once. It did not sound as much as it was felt, ancient and feminine and unyielding.
You are Velenshire-born.
Kaldrek swallowed hard.
A witch, the voice continued. Born of a powerful bloodline.
“Yes,” he said, though the word felt dragged from him.
The energy beneath his hands sharpened, as if the tree were studying him through skin and blood and bone. Kaldrek clenched his jaw. He had no patience left for ritual, no reverence for ceremony. He needed power, and he needed it now.
“They’re coming,” he muttered. “I don’t have time for this.”
Power taken without purpose becomes hunger, the voice said. Power summoned from the Solwyn must be bound by promise.
Promise?
He did not know what that meant. He did not have time to ask.
Before he could protest, the words rose inside him.
Not from the voice, but from some buried place in his own blood.
They surged through his chest and climbed into his throat, vibrating behind his teeth, repeating with more force each time until holding them back became impossible.
He had never learned them. He did not know how he understood them.
Yet they felt familiar, as if they had been waiting for him long before he was born.
So he spoke them. Over and over.
The first time, the grove trembled. The second, the air shifted. By the third, the words were no longer only words. They became a vow, torn from him and offered to the roots beneath his hands. He did not know every meaning hidden inside them, only that he now felt bound to protect.
The power answered.
It flooded him, tearing through his veins and filling every hollow place inside him until nothing remained untouched. His body shook beneath the force of it, but he kept speaking, kept promising, kept pulling until the magic surged higher, stronger, wilder.
A final wave of heat flared through his fingertips before everything went still.
The silence that followed was not empty. It was clear.
Kaldrek rose slowly, steadier than he had ever felt, his mind honed to a razor’s edge, his senses thrown wide open. The power settled inside him with terrifying ease, as though it had only been waiting for him to claim it.
The magic of the Solwyn is granted to those who protect, the voice said. You have promised. Now remember your purpose.
Protect.
Kaldrek lifted his head, and the final surge struck.
It hit like a hammer, throwing him backward.
His body slammed into the ground hard enough to scatter stars across his vision, but he forced himself upright, blinking them away as he shook off the impact.
There was no time to recover. No time to wonder what had just been given to him.
He had to get back to his mate and pack.
He turned, readying himself to shift, but then he saw them.
Dozens of Noskari stood at the edge of the grove, their forms solid and standing unnaturally still. They did not advance. They only watched. At their center stood one larger than the rest, its pale, stretched skin veined with black, its smile too wide and too knowing as it met his gaze.
It had been waiting.
“Fuck,” Kaldrek muttered.
Slowly, he turned his head and saw more of them behind him, closer than the others. Too close.
No room to shift.
Fine.
Kaldrek raised his hands, just as he had practiced, and forced a smirk. “You should really think about cleaning those teeth before getting so close. That breath is fucking rancid.”
Then he called to the land.
It answered at once. The ground cracked beneath him, splitting outward with violent force and throwing the creatures off balance. He lifted his other hand and pushed deeper, focusing harder, until the earth tore open again, wider this time, giving him the room he needed.
Perfect.
He turned to run, but hands seized him from behind and either side, dragging him down before he could draw another breath.
They pinned him to the ground with crushing force.
Then the mist came, seeping from the trees like ink, thickening through the grove until the world vanished into black.
They encircled him. Held him. Bound him.
This was not a fight.
This was a ritual.
The leader stepped forward, its presence pressing into him as its voice flooded his mind.
“Son of Vaelora.”
Kaldrek thrashed, rage igniting through him as the shadows tightened.
“Perfect blood. Perfect soul.”
The words slithered beneath his skin, sinking deeper than sound should have reached.
“You feel it, don’t you, Alpha? The wolf was never enough. But this power—this is what you were meant for.”
Its hand closed around his throat, and cold swept over him.
Then into him. The shadows forced their way inside, pouring through his lungs, his veins, his bones.
His body convulsed as the grove warped around him, bending beneath the weight of the darkness.
The Solwyn’s bright power flared inside him, but the shadows swallowed it, infected it, twisting what had been given to protect into something hungry.
Protect. Protect. Protect.
He clung to the word, repeating it over and over as he fought like hell to break free. That was what the power was meant for. That was the promise. But with every breath, the word grew fainter. The meaning slipped. Even Evelyne’s scream barely reached him through the bond, distant and fading.
Then it was gone.
The leader leaned closer.
“Breathe us in. Become what you were born to be. Our anchor. Our king.”
One by one, the Noskari crashed into him, their mist-like bodies passing through his as though each left a piece of itself buried in his soul.
There was no pain, not truly. Only cold.
Endless, numbing cold, spreading through him until his limbs no longer obeyed, until even the will to fight began to disappear.
No. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t—
The darkness settled into him and rooted itself.
Claimed.
His eyes snapped open.
The Solwyn’s power still roared through his blood, but it was no longer his alone. The shadows released him, and Kaldrek rose slowly from the ground as the Noskari bowed before him. Every one of them.
Immense, tainted power surged through him.
No bond.
No restraint.
Only strength and hunger for more.
“Rise,” he commanded.
They obeyed.
A rustle broke the silence, and a familiar wolf stepped into the grove. Kaldrek turned his head slowly.
“Holden,” he said, calm as still water. The wolf lowered at once, a quiet whimper slipping from him as he backed away, but the sound found no mercy in Kaldrek.
Whatever guilt or affection should have answered remained out of reach, buried beneath the cold, distant amusement curling through him as he smiled.
“Don’t look so sad, my friend. The second-in-command usually inherits the alpha rank.”
The cruelty should have horrified him. Instead, it felt effortless.
Clean. As if every softer thing inside him had been scraped hollow and filled with power instead.
Dark, intoxicating power. He let it carry him as his body dissolved into shadow, unraveling into mist that curled through the trees.
The Noskari followed as one, slipping into the dark behind him.
They would return, and next time, they would not be stopped.
***
Evelyne’s knees nearly buckled.
The bond, which had always pulsed with his strength, his fire, his certainty, went ice cold.
A tide of black water seemed to surge through it, flooding her chest and stealing the air from her lungs.
Her vision blurred. Her pulse stumbled. This was not pain.
Pain would have been kinder. This was emptiness, a terrifying void swallowing everything she knew of him.
“Kaldrek!” Her scream tore free, raw with panic, though no one around her could know why. “Something’s wrong!” she cried, turning toward anyone who would listen. “Something is wrong with my mate. I need to help him.”
Her chest burned with heartbreak, her stomach twisting around the hollow ache spreading through the bond. She should have gone with Holden. Why had she listened? Why had she stayed when every part of her belonged at Kaldrek’s side?
“Ironwolf!” Evelyne screamed, louder this time, searching through her tears for any of his pack. They had to feel it too. They had to know something had gone terribly wrong. “Please!”
Then the memory of her dreams came rushing back: his hands, once warm, turning icy and cruel around her throat; his dark eyes staring down at her, empty of love.
Her heart lurched, and she staggered back, clutching her chest as terror consumed her.
The bond was not severed, but it was wrong.
Faded. Tainted. Somewhere beneath that cold, was the man she loved still there?
Bodies closed in around her, voices calling her name, but all she could feel was him. Or what remained of him. Evelyne squeezed her eyes shut and crumpled to the floor, folding over her knees as if she could hold herself together by force.
Kaldrek, she whispered through the bond, her voice breaking. Don’t leave me.
But nothing kind answered.
Only endless power, and terrifyingly not his own.
Her breath came too fast, panic clawing up her throat as the bond went completely dark.
He had left her. Or something had taken him so far away she no longer knew how to reach him.
A small hand touched her back.
“Breathe,” her mother murmured. “We are here. You are not alone.”
Celeste rubbed soft circles between her shoulders as Evelyne fought to steady herself, but no breath, no comfort, no gentle hand could soothe what had been torn open inside her.
She needed Kaldrek.
And he was lost.