Chapter 63
Morning came without peace. The sky over Caltheris had faded to a thin, colorless gray, but Duskwood Manor still felt wrapped in the same darkness the Noskari had brought with them the night before.
Smoke drifted low across the fields in bitter ribbons, carrying the charred remnants of what had burned through the long hours before dawn.
No one had truly slept. Not the Duskwoods, not Ironwolf, not the Oathroot wolves who had refused to leave Evelyne’s side.
They had spent the night dragging bodies from blood-soaked floors, tending wounds, scrubbing ruined stone, and feeding the dead Noskari to flame so no trace of their corruption could rot into the land.
Holden stood at the edge of the broken courtyard wall, staring across the damp fields as weak morning light spread over them.
His jaw ached from how tightly he had held it through the night, and every inch of him felt wrung out, half flayed by exhaustion.
Still, he could not bring himself to stop moving, stop thinking, or stop reliving what he had seen in the grove.
Kaldrek. His alpha. His brother in every way that had ever mattered. Gone.
Not dead. No, what Holden had witnessed had been worse than death.
He had watched Kaldrek rise with black eyes and a wrong, terrible stillness in his face, power clinging to him like a second skin.
Holden had heard his voice and known it belonged to him, and yet did not.
Then the bond that had always hummed through Ironwolf, the tether that held the pack to its center, had gone silent all at once.
The emptiness of it was an injury of its own.
Every wolf felt it. They moved as if stunned, their instincts still clawing for something no longer there.
Holden dragged a hand over his face and exhaled sharply. If he sat too long with that feeling, he would either put his fist through the nearest wall or break apart entirely, and neither would help anyone. So he kept moving.
He had already checked on Aurelia three times before sunrise and hated himself a little more each time.
Her wounds had closed with unnatural speed, the wolf in her healing in hours what should have taken days, but being near her again had brought that maddening sweetness back with a vengeance.
She had thanked him once, quietly, when no one else was close enough to hear.
Then, when he lingered a second too long and the scent of her sharpened his thoughts into something dangerous, she narrowed her eyes and told him he was making everything worse simply by standing there and should go make himself useful.
He had not known whether to laugh or apologize.
In the end, he did neither. He left before he could embarrass himself further.
Now there was no room for that particular misery.
The day had to be used. They needed a plan before night fell again, because Holden had no doubt the Noskari would return.
The first attack had not been their true assault.
It had been an opening strike, a distraction, a trap meant to take Kaldrek from them.
Tonight, they would come in force. Holden knew it in his gut, and he needed to do something before that certainty became another grave.
He pushed away from the wall and strode back toward the manor, his boots splashing through damp grass and streaks of diluted blood.
Inside, the house no longer resembled the polished, elegant place it had been before the ball.
Broken glass had been swept into corners, bloodstains still marked the floors, and the air smelled of herbs, smoke, soap, and grief.
Servants moved quietly through the corridors, pale and red-eyed, while guards gathered in uneasy clusters, some armed, some bandaged, all wearing the rattled expressions of men who had glimpsed a world they were never meant to see.
He found Evelyne in the sitting room, thankfully still inside the manor, though it had taken half the Ironwolf pack to keep her there.
She was determined to reach Kaldrek, and Holden understood the need better than he wanted to.
She stood near one of the tall windows in a gown Heidara must have helped her into, though the silk was wrinkled from the long night and stained at the hem.
She looked carved from grief and fury, held upright by spite alone.
Her face had been scrubbed clean, but nothing could erase the swelling around her eyes.
Heidara stood beside her, one shoulder braced against the wall, arms folded tightly across her chest, her expression harder than Holden had ever seen it.
Zade lingered a few steps behind them, silent as a shadow.
Alaric and Cillian spoke in low voices near the hearth, while Aurelia sat stiff-backed in a nearby chair, one hand pressed to her temple as if holding herself together required effort. Holden hated to take away even this small moment of quiet, but quiet would not save them.
“We’re meeting in Velenshire,” he said without preamble, his voice rough from smoke and disuse. Every head turned toward him. “The Shaw fields. Near the tree. Near the witches. If they come again tonight, that is where we make our stand.”
No one argued.
Holden looked to Alaric. “I need your father’s men. All who know enough to keep their mouths shut and still hold a blade. Send word to Charise Hallowell too. Tell her to gather every witch she trusts and get them to Velenshire now.”
Alaric’s face hardened, but he nodded at once. “I’ll do it.”
“We should bring the Shaw guards too,” Cillian said. His voice was quieter than usual, but not uncertain. There was steel in him now, something Holden had noticed taking root over the past weeks. Something of his father. “And ours.”
“Yes,” Holden said. “And every human fool wandering the streets of Velenshire needs to be indoors before sunset. I don’t care what excuse you give them. Fire. Plague. Whatever works. I just don’t want any of them outside when darkness falls.”
Cillian nodded.
“There’s no use,” Evelyne said quietly.
The room went still.
Aurelia looked up. “How can you say that?”
Evelyne turned from the window, and the defeat on her face struck harder than any wound Holden had taken the night before.
“His mind is gone.” Her voice sounded hollow.
“And if what you saw last night is true, if he really is their anchor, then we have nothing strong enough to face him. He may have more power now than Vaelora ever did.”
Holden shook his head. “I’m not giving up on my alpha.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Her eyes glistened, but her voice held. “I’m saying we need to think beyond fighting them. We need to think about how to weaken him, or none of this matters.”
She was right, and Holden hated it. He had spent the entire night turning the question over in his mind and had found nothing.
“What can weaken him?” Aurelia asked.
Heidara’s gaze shifted to Evelyne. “Light.”
Evelyne whipped her head toward Cillian, the blood instantly draining from her face.
Holden’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t risk Cillian again.
He had seen Kaldrek in the grove. He had seen the absence in his eyes, the cruel emptiness where his brother should have been.
He would unleash every bit of his power and strength tonight, and Cillian could not withstand him. He was not ready. Not even close.
“No.” Holden’s answer was firm. “We’ll have to think of something else, but first, we need to move.”
It took less time than he expected to move them all.
By late morning, all members of the Duskwood, Stonebridge, and Shaw households who knew the truth had gathered in Velenshire.
The Shaw estate fields stretched beneath a washed-gray sky, still damp from the night before, the grass flattened by carts, boots, and wolf paws.
Beyond them, the grove waited in ancient silence, the Solwyn Tree hidden deep within, while the covens assembled along its borders.
Women in layered cloaks and dark dresses murmured over powders, soil, and glass bowls of water, gathering the elements they meant to wield.
Charise Hallowell stood among them beside an older woman Holden assumed was her mother, both grave, focused, and far too calm for his liking.
Guards moved through the outer fields, checking weapons, reinforcing lines, and sending word back toward Velenshire proper. Holden repeated his orders twice more, making sure every last man understood.
“I don’t want a single human on those streets before dark,” he said, pointing toward the distant town. “Get them inside and keep them there. If anyone asks questions, lie better.”
A few men exchanged uneasy glances, but none challenged him. Once they dispersed, Holden crossed to Charise and the older witch.
“Can you cast a glamour over the streets?” he asked. “Something to steer people away if any idiot ignores orders?”
Charise looked to her mother before answering. The older woman’s face was deeply lined, but her eyes were sharp.
“We can,” she said. “Not as strong as what once covered the southern lands, but enough to disorient. Enough to buy time.”
Holden nodded. “Do it.”
The witches moved at once, gathering in tighter circles as their murmured chants threaded through the field like rising wind. For one brief moment, Holden let himself believe they might actually have a chance.
A howl cut across the fields, causing every head to turn.
The sound came from the far edge of Shaw land, where cultivated ground gave way to rough grass and trees.
Another howl followed, then another, until the voices rolled over the fields in layered warning.
Holden’s hand dropped to the knife at his belt.
Heidara was already moving, Evelyne beside her, and he broke into a run to intercept them before anyone else could react.
The three of them crossed the wet grass together until shapes emerged through the low mist.
Wolves.
Many of them.
At their head stood Obren, larger than Holden remembered, his scarred muzzle raised as he took in the gathered forces.
Beside him moved Ravena, the Moonshade alpha, her dark coat nearly black in the weak light.
Behind them stretched not only Moonshade and Glaciermaw, but three more packs Holden did not recognize.
Wolves of different sizes and colors, all carrying the same hardened look of creatures who had survived too much.
They had come back.
Relief struck Holden so hard he nearly laughed.
Instead, he barked, “Well, I’ll be damned. I honestly didn’t think you’d find that many wolves willing to follow you anywhere.”
Obren shifted first, returning to human form and shoving wet hair from his face. “Touching,” he said. “Good to see you too.”
Beau stepped forward. “We are here to help rid the land of these creatures for good.”
Ravena shifted next, rolling one shoulder as if she had run the entire distance without feeling it.
“My pack did not stop once we heard what happened,” she said.
“We were already searching for others when we crossed paths with Obren heading south. The rest joined along the way. Turns out the Noskari have been terrorizing more territory than any of us realized.”
Murmurs spread through the wolves behind them. One unfamiliar alpha, a broad-shouldered female with torn ears and pale fur, shifted and stepped forward.
“We lost six to them a few weeks ago,” she said. “If this is the night to end them, then we came for blood.”
Another pack leader, older and heavy with scars, gave a grim nod. “Mine as well.”
For a moment, something shifted. The air remained grim, but it steadied. Strength gathered where despair had been. They were not alone.
Obren glanced past Holden, his gaze searching the wolves gathered behind him. “Where’s the Ironwolf alpha?”
The question struck like a stone dropped into still water.
Everything quieted. The brief warmth in Holden’s chest vanished.
He held Obren’s stare for half a second before looking away across the field.
“He’s…” His throat tightened, and he cleared it once.
“Kaldrek made a choice without telling anyone. Now the Noskari have an anchor strong enough to make the rest of us very fucking sorry.”
Ravena’s eyes widened.
Before the silence could twist into blame, Evelyne stepped forward, her gaze moving over the gathered wolves before shifting to the road behind them. “Was it difficult to get into Velenshire?” she asked. “Did anything feel wrong? Any resistance?”
Obren frowned. “No. Easy as pie, actually.”
Ravena nodded slowly. “We crossed straight through.”
Holden looked to Heidara, then to Evelyne, and saw the same realization settle over both of them.
“That confirms it,” Heidara said quietly. “The veil is completely down.”
Evelyne’s expression tightened. “Then let’s hope there aren’t more gathering outside Velenshire.”
Holden turned back toward the Shaw fields, toward the witches, the guards, and the restless wolves gathering for battle. The day had barely begun, and already the world felt balanced on the edge of something final. He drew a breath, squared his shoulders, and forced his voice steady.
“Good,” he said. “Then we stop pretending this land is hidden and start preparing to kill these fuckers.”