35. Aria

35

ARIA

S ometime in the night, Atticus and I were moved from the communal area to his bed, and that started the broken chain of sleep and wakefulness. I’d drift off, only to be yanked back when Atticus’s terror slammed into me. Every time, I reached out and stroked his hair.

“It’s okay,” I whispered in his ear, not sure if he could hear me through the fog of his nightmares. I wrapped my arms around him, willing him to calm. For a little while, he would. We’d both find peace, however fleeting, before the cycle repeated.

The next time I woke, light crept into the room. Atticus was still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. No more tremors racked his body, and I took the time just to watch him. His face, usually so strong and defiant, seemed almost boyish now.

How many times had he risked his own safety to stand between me and danger? How many times had he taken the brunt of my burden onto himself?

An invisible thread woven with care and sacrifice tied me to this rogue wolf who dared to challenge everything for me. My role as a leader and my responsibilities to the pack paled in comparison to what lay in my heart—the desire to claim him as mine, to hold on to him as fiercely as he held onto his own freedom.

There was a battle ahead, I knew that much. A fight for the future of our kind, for the right to live and love freely. To reestablish balance. And now there was a whole new component.

Philesia.

What was her motive for seeking me out? So many questions flew through my mind. Could she truly help me control and master my powers? And why only me? Why not Atticus? Should I be worried that she might tear us apart when we were finally mending our relationship?

I nestled my head in the crook of Atticus’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. His familiar scent seeped into my lungs, filling me with a contentment I’d thought forever lost to me when my father died. In the stillness of the room, I relished simply being Aria—not the alpha or the warrior, but a woman captivated by the man who had become a pillar of unwavering support.

I let my fingers dance lightly over Atticus’s neck, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. He lay still, his breathing even and deep. As I studied his face, doubt began to creep in. Had it been a mistake to let him go? Would this new awkwardness between us ever fade?

His skin was warm under my touch. Too warm, too real. I didn’t want to stop, but the fear of crossing an unseen boundary held me back. I jerked my hand back as if scalded.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Don’t stop.”

Caught in the act, I laughed nervously. “You’re awake.”

“Your fault,” Atticus said, his lips curling into a half-smile. He caught my hand and put it back on his neck. He kept his eyes closed, but his grip on me was firm. “Feels nice.”

“Does it?” I resumed the gentle motion, tickling the sensitive skin.

“Uh-huh.” His breath hitched, and when he opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated, dark pools reflecting something I couldn’t quite identify. Longing? Regret? The same emotions that whirled inside me?

I hesitated. “Were you dreaming again?”

He nodded slowly, not looking at me. “The same one where... where he comes after me.”

His heartache trickled through our bond. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make it better.”

“Your being here does more than you know,” he said, slipping his fingers between mine.

We lay in silence for a few beats until the dim light turned brighter. “Gods, we slept all through the afternoon into the morning.”

“Seems like it,” he said, sitting up and running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Yesterday scared me,” I confessed, pulling the sheets closer around me. “When I let go of my power, when I lost control... I actually enjoyed it before I realized what it was doing. That terrifies me.”

He looked at me, his ice-blue eyes sharp with understanding. “Considering everything you’re dealing with, it’s normal to feel that way. It doesn’t make you weak or wrong.”

I bit my lip. “It feels like it does.”

“Let me help,” he said gently. “It would be a privilege to ease some of that burden. It’s not just yours to carry.”

I shook my head, even though I desperately wanted to take him up on that offer. “You’ve already done so much.”

“Never enough for you,” he said.

My fingers itched to thread through his jet-black hair. I wanted to lose myself in him, to let his touch erase the tumultuous past weeks. But I held back, steeling myself against the craving.

A loud, insistent grumble in my stomach broke the quiet between us. Atticus burst out laughing, the sound deep and infectious.

“Guess that’s our cue.” He took my hand and tugged me to my feet.

“Seems like it,” I said, allowing a small smile to play on my lips despite my rising anxiety. I had less time than I’d thought to prepare for my meeting with Philesia. I wished I could stay hidden here in the peaceful silence of Atticus’s bedroom, safe in his arms. But that would be an act of cowardice, and I was no coward.

He stretched to his full height, the muscles across his back shifting under his skin as he tilted his head from side to side. When he turned, I braced myself for the evidence of the injury that had nearly cost him his life. There was nothing there but an expanse of smooth skin.

“I know Mia and Ilaric healed you yesterday, but there’s not a single mark on you, Atticus.” I touched him there, his skin soft and warm under my fingertips.

He took hold of my hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Come on. Let’s get you fed.”

“Thank you,” I said. There was comfort in this simple act of care that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

He pointed to a pile of neatly folded clothes. From the size and style, it clearly belonged to Lyza. “Those must be for you. I’ll give you some privacy.”

He pulled clean clothing out of his closet, then headed to the bathroom. I missed the intimacy of the morning as soon as the door closed. All the worries came rushing back, crowding my mind.

I slipped into the loose pants and managed to button up the shirt just before he came back. He smiled, and we followed the scent of coffee and something sweet to the kitchen.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to a stool. I took the seat, watching as he set plates on the table and filled two stoneware mugs with coffee. Someone had cooked up a feast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

The first bite of pancake was fluffy and warm and deliciously sweet from the syrup. We ate in comfortable silence until the door creaked open. Atticus’s family trickled in, their voices low, respectful of the morning calm.

“Morning, Aria,” Lyza mumbled, grabbing an apple from the bowl.

“Atticus, these are amazing,” Joren, Lyza’s mate, praised between mouthfuls of blueberry muffin.

“Thanks,” he said. “But I didn’t make them. I suspect Mia did.”

As we finished eating, the all too familiar feeling of responsibility settled on my shoulders. “I need to head back to Silver Claw territory and meet with the pack,” I said, pushing the plate away.

“Need a lift?” Atticus asked. “I can shadow walk you there.”

I shook my head. “The walk will help me clear my head, but thank you.”

“Of course,” he said. “Be careful, stay vigilant. We still don’t know who attacked you. If they appear, don’t stay and fight. Communicate with me, let me know where you are. I’ll shadow walk and get you out of there before they can touch you. Please, Aria, promise me that.”

His intense gaze never wavered, and I could tell he was torn between protecting me while also respecting my need for space. I was tempted to let him take me back to Silver Claw territory, to prolong our time together and shut out the reality of everything that happened. But I had too much weighing on my mind and very little time to work through it all.

“I promise. Any sign of trouble, and I’ll let you know,” I said, standing up. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Any time,” he replied, watching me leave.

I stepped through the curtain and shifted. Inhaling the reassuring fragrance of pine and earth that greeted me, I took off.

As I ran through the forest, the aftermath of my actions became painfully clear. In my haste to get Ilaric the previous afternoon, I hadn’t noticed the depth of my destruction. The once-majestic ancient trees—guardians of many generations, sturdy and resilient against the elements—were now snapped in half. The river’s ferns, torn from their natural habitat, draped over the trees that had withstood the force of my power.

Anxious about the upcoming meeting with Philesia, I held on to the hope that she could teach me how to control the raw energy. I couldn’t bear it if I caused any more devastation to the forest that had been home for our kind.

I sprinted towards the manor, desperate to avoid any pack members. Bursting through the door, I scanned the dimly lit corridors, making sure to avoid the staff bustling about. I’d intended to head straight to my rooms to change into my own clothes, but a sudden whim led me to my father’s study.

I shifted back into human form and stood in front of the door, hand hovering over the brass doorknob. Cold sweat slicked my palms. I was on a precipice, searching for answers buried in the past. I’d avoided this moment, this confrontation with my grief, for far too long. But now, the need for answers outweighed my sorrow. With a deep breath, I summoned the courage and pushed the heavy door open.

As the smell of old wood and leather-bound books hit me, I faltered. It was like Father was still here, sitting at his desk, poring over one ancient text or another. I locked my knees, afraid I would crumble under the emotional onslaught of the empty room.

“Are you all right?”

I jumped and slapped a hand to my chest. “Eldan, you startled me. And I’m fine, just tired,” I said, my tone betraying the anguish I was trying so hard to conceal.

He crossed the corridor in two strides and wrapped me in a hug. All it did was make me want to cry more. Another hand touched my shoulder, and a lump formed in my throat. When I looked up at Seren’s caring expression, the ache in my chest intensified.

“What are you two doing here?” I asked.

“We were waiting for you in the front room. One of the maids saw you coming this way,” Eldan murmured. “Ilaric told us what happened.”

I pulled away, needing space. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Okay,” he said simply, then changed the subject. “We spread the word that last night’s pack meeting was canceled.”

“Thank you.” It hadn’t even crossed my mind. Regardless of the circumstances, canceling a pack meeting would be more fuel for the old fucks to moan about, but at least I hadn’t stood up the entire pack.

We moved out of the doorway and into the office. I stood still, looking over the room. Books lined the shelves, loose sheets of parchment littered the desk, and the chair still held Father’s indentation. I smiled slightly. Father always called it his butt groove.. Other memories clawed at me, demanding attention, but I wasn’t ready to face them.

“Whenever you’re ready, Aria.” Eldan stepped back, giving me the space to explore my father’s sanctum.

I ran my fingers along the spines of books, pulling them out randomly and flipping through their pages before returning them to the shelf. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. This was mere procrastination to quell the nervousness I felt about the upcoming meeting with Philesia.

“Your father had many secrets,” Eldan remarked, picking up an old, leather-bound volume. “I think he wanted you to find them when you were ready.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know when I’m ready, Eldan? Because right now, I feel completely unprepared.” As quickly as it came, the flash of temper dissipated, leaving only the bitter aftertaste of guilt. “I’m sorry, Eldan, that was uncalled for.”

“Don’t apologize, Aria,” Elden said. “I can’t even imagine the courage it takes to get out of bed in your situation. Have confidence in yourself, and everything will work out.”

My attention shifted to the circle of ethereal figures that hovered around Seren. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed, hands resting gently on an open book. The hum of unearthly energy filled the space.

Intrigued, I watched as her lips moved soundlessly, her expression intense. When her lips stilled and her eyes fluttered open, I cautiously whispered, “What are you doing?”

She nodded at the ghostly figures, their eerie glow illuminating her face. “When we entered the room, I felt the spirits, but they weren’t powerful enough to manifest, so I gave them a boost.”

“A boost?”

“It’s basically the same thing I was doing in the forest the other day, just on a smaller scale,” she said.

I gestured to the ghosts drifting around her. “Who are they?”

“Pack members from times long past.”

My heart raced as I scanned the ghosts. “My father?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Aria.”

I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed at his absence, but I didn’t have long to dwell on it. One by one, the ghosts turned to me, their forms wavering like flames caught in a breeze. They were there but not quite, outlines of the wolves they once had been.

“I’m Lorian,” said the first with authority. “I served as the alpha’s right hand and butler.”

“Elara,” came a soft voice from a she-wolf, her spectral eyes warm yet sad. “I was the healer.”

“Rath,” grunted another, broader than the others, his form almost solid. “I trained the young ones in combat.”

“All names I’ve heard in stories,” I murmured in awe. “You’re helping Seren?”

“Uncovering what’s been lost,” Rath replied, his ghostly form nodding solemnly. “Knowledge hidden away, waiting for the right time.”

“Your father kept these books for a reason,” Seren added, finally looking up at me. “These spirits are a part of that reason. They hold memories, confidences that can aid us now.”

“Thank you,” I managed to say. Centuries of history seeped into my very being, secrets clinging like cobwebs as I stepped closer to the spectral assembly, looking closely at each ghostly figure before settling on Seren. “Seren, how are these spirits so clear, so... present when I could barely see my own mother the other night? She only had the strength to stay for a few minutes.”

Seren’s eyes met mine, and she exhaled slowly, as if summoning patience from beyond. “The spirits we encounter have different connections to the physical world, which affects how and when they can be seen by the living. Your mother’s bond to this realm is not as strong as those who stand before us now.”

I nodded, trying to make sense of it all. “So some spirits are simply stronger?”

“That’s it,” Seren said. “Think of the spirit world as a vast ocean, and the physical world as the shoreline. Some spirits are like the waves that can reach the shore whenever they please. They have the strength and a bond to the physical realm that allows them to manifest at will.” Seren watched me, her gaze steady. “Other spirits, however, are like distant ripples in the ocean. They don’t have the same strength or connection. Often, their ties to the living world have faded or they were weaker to begin with. Spirits, like your mother, need a stronger call, something that amplifies their energy enough to reach the shore briefly. This is why I have to summon them specifically. They cannot come forth as freely.”

“That’s why she could only stay for a short time?”

“Yes,” Seren said. “The summoning takes a toll on both the spirit and the conduit. It’s not an easy bridge to cross. If she’d lingered too long, she’d have depleted you, which would have endangered you.”

Her fingers moved through the air, eyes half-closed as if she could touch the invisible threads that connected our world to the next. “When I perform a ritual, I create a beacon—a lighthouse, if you will—that guides them back for a while.” Her voice was so soft, I wouldn’t have heard if it weren’t for our enhanced shifter hearing. “Maintaining such a thread demands energy and focus, and even then, it’s only enough to sustain their presence for a short duration.”

I tried to imagine what kind of strength it took to pull spirits from their eternal rest. It was beyond me, yet I needed to understand these mysteries.

“Does it hurt them?” I asked, concern for my mother surfacing unbidden.

“Only if they are held here against their will, and I would never do that. The spirits that come, they do so because they wish to help or because they have something left unsaid.”

Her words were strangely comforting. I considered those we had seen tonight. “And those tied to the pack? What about their reasons for lingering?”

“The visibility and presence of spirits are also influenced by their purpose and their unfinished business.” Seren stood and arched her back, stretching her taut muscles. She leaned against the heavy oak desk that once belonged to my father, her gaze distant. “Some are bound by unresolved matters or strong emotions, which anchor them closer to our realm, making them more easily accessible.”

“Like chains?” I imagined spectral shackles made of regrets and last words.

“Yes. Others, freed from such ties, drift farther away, their appearances becoming rarer and more fleeting.”

“Is there anything we can do to help them find peace?” The thought of souls wandering aimlessly, perhaps forever, didn’t sit right with me.

“Sometimes,” Seren admitted. “Often, it is a path they must walk on their own. Our role is not always to interfere but to understand and respect their journey.”

I swallowed hard. “Even if it means we may never see them again?”

“Even then,” she said softly. “It’s the way of our world. The living and the dead. We each have our place.”

I reflected on everything she had shared, especially her revelation about the need to enhance the spirit’s energy.

“Did you... did you make it so I could speak with my mother?” My words trembled as they left my lips, the gravity of her gift sinking in.

Seren nodded once. There was no need for more words; her gesture said everything.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I stepped forward and embraced her, the tears finally breaking free.

As we parted, I wiped the wetness from my cheeks.

“Magic used to be our heartbeat,” the ghost of Lorian spoke, his voice carrying the pride of centuries past. “I served the alpha then, right in this very manor. It was an honor.” HE straightened his ghostly vest as if preparing for esteemed guests. “The energy of life flowed through us, unchained.”

“Tell me about your alpha,” I said, eager for a connection to the past that felt both foreign and intimate.

Lorian’s translucent eyes brightened, a spark of remembrance lighting within. “Alpha Thea. Your third-great-grandmother. She was fierce in spirit, a landmark of magic, and beautiful as the night sky. She cared for all. Her strength was the pillar of our pack.”

“Was it different then, the pack life?” I asked in a low voice, as if afraid to disturb the lingering spirits of yesteryears.

“Vastly,” he said. “Magic was celebrated. It coursed through us like a river unleashed. We lived by its rhythms, and Alpha Thea, she danced at its shores.”

Pride swelled within me, filling the hollow spaces left by years of stifled potential. “She sounds incredible.”

“Aye, that she was. The last female alpha we’ve known.” Lorian posture straightened as though he were standing before Thea herself.

“Last?” My brow furrowed, and beside me, Seren’s expression hardened with disapproval.

“Indeed. After her, it has been six generations of male alphas. As the tides of magic ebbed, they believed a man’s rule might restore what was lost.” His skeptic tone echoed the sentiment in my heart.

Seren let out a derisive snort. “As if gender commands the flow of magic.”

“Right?” I said, unable to suppress the scoff that followed, thinking how misguided their beliefs had been. My gaze returned to Lorian, hungry for more truth. “What else can you tell me?”

“She ruled when moonlight was more than just light. It was part of us, part of Lycanterra itself. Her name meant unity. Meant magic.”

“Magic was everywhere?” The image of such a world painted itself in my mind.

“Everywhere and in everyone,” Lorian confirmed with a nod. “Thea led not with fear but with wisdom. She didn’t command respect. Thea inspired it.”

“She must’ve been a sight to behold,” I whispered. What must it have been like to live under a leader so unlike the ones I had known?

“More than that. Under her, we were one with nature, one with our powers. We thrived like never before,” he said.

“Children could wield magic freely then?”

“Freely and fearlessly. They shaped water and earth, played with fire and air. Laughter was as common as leaves in the wind. We were connected, from the youngest pup to the eldest elder, to the heart of this very land.” Lorian’s hands moved as though he was shaping the elements himself.

“They shifted, learned to be one with their beasts without hesitation?”

“Yes. Thea believed in harmony, in the balance between our human side and the wolf within. It made us strong.” His reverent tone held a longing for times long passed. “Full moon celebrations were something else,” he said with a smile. “Imagine the whole forest joining in, spirits and all, dancing under the moonlight.”

“Sounds enchanting,” I murmured, caught up in the vision he painted.

“Enchanting, yes,” Lorian agreed. “Fear didn’t stand a chance against us then. We were strong together, bound by magic and respect for all things.”

I glanced around the room, at the silent witnesses of a past long gone. “What happened? Why was magic restricted?” I asked.

Lorian hesitated, his figure growing more transparent, as if the answer was beyond his reach. Another spirit stepped forward, a brooding presence that contrasted sharply with Lorian’s genteel demeanor.

“It was a betrayal,” Rath whispered faintly. “Trust, the very trust that held us together, shattered.”

“What betrayal?” I asked, goosebumps erupting on my skin.

“Ah, Miss Aria, I’m afraid the details elude me,” Lorian admitted, his ethereal form bowing slightly as though apologizing for an unforgivable lapse in service. “Perhaps this gentleman can enlighten us.”

Rath looked reluctant, but a stern glance from the female spirit beside him had him sighing, a sound like the rustling of leaves.

“Our unity made us strong,” he said, and though he spoke softly, loss weighed down each word. “Once that was broken, control became the tool of those afraid of true power. Malric betrayed us.”

“Malric?” I asked.

“Thea’s son.” Lorian’s voice carried a trace of disdain as if the very act of speaking Malric’s name sullied the air. “Her own flesh and blood, yet devoid of her warmth.”

“Devoid and then some,” Rath added, his eyes dark with the memory. “He craved power more than anything, enough to kill his mother.”

I gasped. “He killed his own mother?”

“Sadly, yes.” Lorian stiffened. “To take the mantle of alpha before his time.”

“What did he do once he took over?”

“He controlled us,” Rath muttered. “Controlled the magic that united us and turned it into a weapon for himself.”

“He suppressed our gifts,” Elara, the healer, chimed in. “It was no longer about unity, but about power. Malric turned on those he deemed too powerful and attuned to the ancient ways. One by one, the gifted were silenced, their magic chained by fear and their alpha’s edict. The pack’s unity was shattered. In its place was a hierarchy where magic was a privilege only granted to those Malric favored, not a right inherited through blood and spirit.”

“Was his reign long?” I asked.

“Long and dark,” Lorian replied.

“His betrayal cast suspicion and fear upon those with magical gifts. No one can reach their true potential anymore. You’re all living half lives,” Rath said.

I thanked the three spirits for opening up about what must have been an incredibly difficult period in their lives. “I aim to eliminate the mistrust and show to the pack that individuals with these abilities are not anomalies, but rather the ones who will shape our future.”

Each spirit bowed respectfully. One by one, their ethereal forms winked out of existence.

“So, Malric didn’t just take the throne, he tore it from under us,” I said hollowly. “He tried to stamp out what made us special.”

“Power does strange things to wolves,” Eldan said, his arms laden with dusty books.

“Very strange,” I murmured, scanning the room. With the unearthly hum of the spirits now gone, it felt like we were in a crypt.

Eldan set the books on the desk, wiping away layers of time with his palm. “I found these hidden behind a false panel.”

“Hidden?” I leaned in closer, curiosity piqued. There were titles I recognized and others that seemed foreign, yet eerily familiar.

“Elemental magic, histories, theories about our realms,” he listed them off, flipping through pages with reverence. “Your father had quite the collection.”

“Why would he hide these?” I picked up a book, its cover etched with symbols that danced before me.

“Protection? Fear of them being destroyed?” Eldan suggested. “Or maybe he wanted to keep some secrets just that—secret.”

I sighed as I thumbed through the pages. “Secrets have a way of coming out. Especially in this pack.”

“Let’s hope these lead to something good,” Seren said. “For all of us.”

I flipped through another book, scanning the ancient script. “If he meant to protect us, why keep it from me?”

Eldan shrugged. “Maybe he planned to share this knowledge when you were ready.”

“Or he thought I’d never be ready.” I let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “He always said knowledge could be a weapon or a shield.”

“Seems like he chose the shield for himself,” Eldan said.

“Then let’s see if we can find any weapons.” I pulled out a book, its spine cracked from age. The title read Lycanterra: The Forgotten Era.

Eldan tapped on an illustration of a moonlit ceremony. “Your father marked the page.”

“ Rituals and ceremonies to strengthen bonds and magic ,” I read out loud. “Could he have been trying to bring back what Malric destroyed?”

“Or prevent another betrayal,” Seren said.

After a while of paging through book after book, I pushed back from the desk. I paced the length of my father’s office, twisting my fingers together. Power coursed through me, wild and unpredictable. It was exhilarating, but terrifying at the same time.

“Stop pacing,” Eldan muttered from behind a mountain of books. “You’re making me dizzy.”

I halted, taking in the disorganization around me. Paper littered the floor, ancient texts lay open on every available flat surface. We were searching for anything that might give us an edge, any secret my father might have squirreled away.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, not really meaning it. A painting propped against the far wall caught my eyes. It was small, easy to miss among the clutter. I stepped closer, eyes narrowing as I studied it. The canvas was old, the colors muted with age. It depicted a baby swaddled in a blanket, silver hair already hinting at the lunar mark of our kind. My fingers traced the outline of the little face, recognition dawning slow and heavy.

“What did you find?” Eldan asked, craning his neck to look around the stack of books in front of him.

“It’s me,” I said. “Someone painted me when I was a baby.”

“It does look like you,” Eldan said. “Same stubborn chin.”

I couldn’t help the snort. “Yeah.”

“Keep it,” Eldan advised. “It’s part of your history.”

“Part of my cage, more like.” I set the painting aside. The room felt smaller suddenly as if the walls were closing in around me.

To distract myself, I resumed rummaging through the piles of books and artifacts. Eldan stayed close by and we worked side by side. One of the panels of the bookshelf was loose. I pried it open and reached inside. At first, it seemed to be empty, but then my hand caught on something.

“Got something?” Eldan asked.

“Maybe,” I murmured, tugging at the object. It resisted at first, then finally slid free. It was a journal bound in worn leather.

Seren got up and peered over my shoulder. “What is it?”

I ran my fingertips over the cover. The grooves and scratches told tales of a time long past. Carefully, I opened it to the first page, holding my breath as if the act might disturb the spirits resting within.

“Damn,” I said. “This is Thea’s journal.”

I settled into my father’s leather chair and turned the delicate pages. The words danced before my eyes, Thea’s elegant script painting stories I could only dream of. Her reign, her life, her magic, all laid bare across the yellowed pages. The room fell silent, the dust motes hanging suspended as though even they recognized the gravity of the moment.

“This is incredible,” I managed to say. Page after page revealed more of the world Thea had known, a world that felt so distant yet suddenly within reach.

“Her thoughts, her experiences, are all documented. It’s a window into the past.”

My gaze narrowed in on an illustration of the full moon celebration. Thea had captured every element—the bonfire leaping into the night sky, the pack laying woven garlands around it. The image was so vivid it seemed alive. I could almost hear their howls rising in harmony.

“Look at this,” I murmured, turning the journal around so Eldan could see. “They celebrated under every full moon. It was more than tradition; it united them.”

“It’s hard to believe something like this existed in our pack,” he replied.

I nodded and continued reading. Thea wrote of a meeting with a rival pack over a territorial dispute. Her words didn’t just recount the event; they showed her process, her diplomatic edge that turned enemies into allies. Then, a passage about forging a pact with the spirits of the land that made our territory sacred.

“Wow...” Seren said softly beside me. “She really spoke with the spirits?”

“More than spoke.” I traced the words on the page. “She listened to them, worked with them. They respected her.” My heart thrummed. Thea’s magic wasn’t just about power, it was connection.

Seren cocked her head. “You think we could do that now?”

“Maybe.” The idea ignited something within me. If Thea could do it, why not us? Why not me?

“Your aspirations for the pack, Aria… they seem to align with hers, don’t they?” Eldan asked.

I paused, considering. The journal was a mirror reflecting my own yearnings for our pack. “Yeah,” I said finally. “They do.”

“Then they’re not nonsense,” he stated matter-of-factly. “If she could lead the pack in that way, so can you.”

His words settled in my chest, a buoyant hope taking root. Maybe my dreams weren’t so far-fetched. Perhaps, like Thea, I could weave them into reality.

I clutched the journal to my chest, the leather crackling softly under my grip. Tears blurred my vision as I scanned the room, a silent plea for privacy. Eldan caught my eye, understanding without words. He nodded, gently steering Seren toward the door.

“Take your time,” he said. “We’ll be outside.”

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving me alone with Thea’s legacy. My hands shook as I opened the journal again, but this time it wasn’t just curiosity that fueled me, it was connection. Thea’s words leaped from the pages, her strength and wisdom enveloping me like an embrace from the past.

“Great-great-great-grandmother,” I whispered. She had been more than a leader; she was a beacon of hope that resonated across generations. I felt her presence, a gentle urging to remember who I was, where I came from.

Strength surged through my veins, a resolve so fierce it startled me. closing the journal, I tucked it under my arm. This wasn’t just a book; it was a call to arms, a reminder of the duty that ran in my blood.

“I will protect them,” I promised the empty room, picturing every face in my pack. “Just like you did, Thea.”

Without another glance at my father’s office, I slipped out and closed the door behind me. I needed the solitude of my own space—not my father’s—to absorb every word, every intent. In the quiet, away from prying eyes, I would honor Thea’s memory and forge my path forward.