44. Aria

44

ARIA

I blinked, the ceiling above me sharpening into focus. Ilaric’s face came into view, while Mia hovered like a wraith at the edge of my vision. I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced me back down.

“Easy,” Ilaric said, putting his hand on my arm to steady me.

A fog of confusion swirled around me, and I blinked rapidly to clear it. “How did I get here?”

Memories crashed into me: Caius capturing me, the chilling darkness of the cellar, the runes that seemed to slither across the walls and tighten around me. Pain lanced through my body, a sharp, biting reminder of the terror. It was so intense, so vivid, I nearly choked on it.

Ilaric’s eyes darkened. “Atticus. He traded himself for you. His father...”

The room spun, and the walls pressed in on me. The air thinned as I struggled to take a breath. Atticus, bound by his own blood, his soul at stake? Impossible.

“No!” The word tore its way out of me, scraping at my raw throat. My gut twisted, rejecting the truth that Atticus, the rogue wolf who had defied all odds, could fall victim to such darkness.

Ilaric’s words echoed in my mind, an unremitting tide that threatened to drown me. I shoved the blankets away and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, every muscle protesting.

“I have to train,” I said. There was no time to rest. Atticus was out there, bound by chains I couldn’t see but felt wrapped tight around my own soul.

“Train?” Mia interrupted the haze of my determination. “Aria, you’re not ready to think about training. You need to recuperate.”

“Resting won’t break his chains.” The link between Atticus and me burned, an aching reminder of the urgency of our situation. At least I could feel it again. He was alive.

Ilaric stepped forward, blocking my path. “The magic in that cellar did a number on you. Your pulse...” He trailed off and pursed his lips.

“Was weak, I know.” I shuffled past him.

Mia took hold of my arm, her touch gentle yet insistent. “You wouldn’t have lasted much longer in there. Atticus knows that. He’d want you to recover.”

“Recover?” I laughed bitterly. “There’s nothing to recover from if I lose him forever. I can still feel everything he doesn’t shield. Right now, he’s shielding nothing.”

I ignored my body’s plea for mercy. There was no room for weakness, not when every second counted against Atticus’s freedom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mia asked, but I didn’t glance back.

“I need to wash up,” I grunted as I moved forward, every joint aching.

“Your body needs rest,” Ilaric said, his tone brooking no argument.

“That won’t free Atticus,” I snapped.

“Let her go,” Mia said, briefly squeezing my shoulder. “She won’t find peace lying down.”

I shrugged off her hand, then shut the bathroom door behind me. It was just me now, and the soothing water of tub calling to me. I paced the space, stretching my muscles as I waited for the tub to fill. When the bathroom was hazy with steam, I sank into the hot water, letting the heat scald away the layers of helplessness that clung to my skin.

Atticus. Hold on.

Tears dripped down my face into the water as I scrubbed at my flesh, trying to erase the memories. I slid under the water, letting the water wash over my face and head as plans formed and reformed in my mind. Train harder, grow stronger. Research. Reclaim the pack lands. I envisioned myself moving through combat drills, my fists cutting the air, my legs sweeping the ground.

I had to figure out how Atticus’s bargain could be broken. There had to be a way.

My heart began to race. Panic clawed at my throat. Everything was closing in. The water felt too warm, the steam too thick. I surged up, gripping the edges of the tub. Water spilled over the sides, splashing onto the tile.

“Please,” I whispered to any god listening. “I can’t do this alone.”

For so long, loss and expectation had been piling up on me like stones, and now it seemed they would crush me. The pain was unbearable. Then something snapped.

No more.

I commanded myself to get the fuck up, shaking my head fiercely. I couldn’t afford to be weak. Not when Atticus was suffering. Not when my people were waiting for me to lead them.

A fresh tide of guilt washed over me. This was my fault. I’d failed him, failed them all. But I would make it right.

I pushed myself up, water cascading off my back. I took a deep breath that felt like dragging iron through my lungs. The magic inside me vibrated again, ready to burst forth from my skin. I hadn’t felt it since I woke up.

Shaking off the last remnants of doubt, I stood tall. The time for fear and hesitation was over. Atticus was out there, and he needed me. My pack was out there, and they needed me.

The power within me grew restless, eager to be unleashed. My fingertips tingled with it, each buzz a call to action.

I toweled off and wrapped myself in a warm robe, then secured a towel around my wet hair. Cautiously, I opened the door, relieved to find my bedroom empty. I needed the peace to center myself, to quell the magic that was building.

Once I’d dressed, I allowed myself a moment to sit and evaluate my own situation. The ache in my muscles had almost faded, but my heart throbbed at Atticus’s absence. My only relief came from feeling his presence at the edge of my mind. It was faint, but it was better than the complete emptiness I’d felt in Caius’s prison.

I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t keep myself locked away in my room any longer. The training grounds called me. There, I could drown out his absence with sweat and focus.

I laced up my boots tight, the leather biting into my palms. Each loop, each knot, was a step toward something I could control. He wasn’t here, but I refused to be useless.

Rushing down the stairs, I nodded at those who greeted me by name but didn’t pause to make conversation. I dashed out the door, jogging along the familiar path to the old battlegrounds. The place was a mess, a stark reminder of what I’d done. Splintered trees, scorched earth. I let out a long breath and steadied myself. Today was about reining it in, mastering the magic. No more collateral damage.

I spread my feet, feeling the grit under my boots, the heat from the sun, the power pulsing at my fingertips. It was there, ready to be shaped, waiting for my command. And I would not let it consume me again. Not today. Not ever.

I took a deep breath and raised my arms. My fingers spread out, reaching for the unseen threads of the wind. Leaves rustled, dust swirled, and broken twigs lifted from the charred earth. They circled from the invisible force at my command. The debris clumped together, forming a mound. I wiped sweat from my forehead, a small smile playing on my lips. Progress.

“Damn it,” I muttered. I missed Atticus. Much more than I wanted to admit. It was like missing a part of myself. I pressed my teeth into my lower lip, channeling the pain to halt the stream of tears.

I continued working with my magic, but a glimmer diverted my focus. I turned sharply to see Philesia stepping out of thin air, her form solidifying with an effortless elegance that made my throat clench.

I sighed in relief. “You’re here.”

“Training waits for no one,” she said.

I nodded, grateful for the distraction she promised. The ground around us bore the scars of elemental fury, but in her presence, I felt an odd sense of peace.

“We’ll begin with lightning.” Philesia led me to a clear space where the previous devastation hadn’t reached.

“Lightning?” I asked, squaring my shoulders and trying to concentrate on the task ahead.

“I want to see control and precision,” she said, nodding. “Go ahead. Summon it.”

I called on the storm within. My fingertips tingled as I stretched out my hand, aiming at the target—a charred stump standing solitary against the backdrop of destruction.

Holding my breath, I snapped my fingers, and a jagged line of electricity shot forth. The bright light sliced through the air, but it missed, striking the ground inches from the stump.

“Again,” Philesia said, unfazed by my failure.

I tried to shake off the frustration mounting inside me, focusing on her calm demeanor. Strike after strike, I called on the lightning, each attempt buzzing closer to the mark but never quite hitting it. Sweat beaded on my forehead, frustration turning to anger.

“Philesia, I can’t—” I began, but she cut me off with a sharp look.

“Your emotions are your strength, not your weakness. Channel them.” Her words were like a lifeline thrown into the chaotic sea of my thoughts.

With renewed determination, I drew a deep breath, envisioning the lightning as an extension of my own will. I raised my hand once more, reaching out with all the pent-up energy inside me.

“Focus,” Philesia murmured.

This time, when I released the charge, it flew true, striking the stump with a satisfying crack. The wood splintered, sending fragments flying as electricity danced over its surface.

“Good,” Philesia said, a rare smile touching her lips. “Very good.”

I let out a small cheer, and the smile vanished from Philesia’s face. “You think this is hard?” she challenged with an edge that scraped at my fleeting happiness. “What about when you face Caius? Near misses won’t impress him.”

I flinched. She knew exactly where to prod to get a rise out of me. My hands clenched involuntarily, the air crackling with my anger.

“Let it out. All of it,” Philesia demanded. “That pathetic excuse for an alpha thinks he can claim you, bind you to his will?”

“Stop,” I muttered, but she plowed forward, tearing open wounds I fought to ignore.

“Get mad, Aria! You should be mad! You are a powerful woman being held back by your own fears and a pompous piece of shit who wants to rule the realm. This is your realm. Fucking show me what you can do!”

Something snapped. The dam broke. Rage surged through me like a tidal wave, overwhelming every other thought. I reached down deep and tapped into the well of power I kept leashed.

I roared, throwing my arms wide. Lightning answered my call, a brilliant cascade of energy pouring from the sky, striking with deadly precision. It obliterated the targets, one after another, leaving nothing but charred earth in their wake.

“More!” Philesia shouted.

I unleashed hell, the raw power of the elements coursing through me unhindered. With each strike, I reclaimed a part of myself long buried under duty and fear. Bolts of white-hot electricity danced at my command, a symphony of destruction that sang to my soul.

I was fire. I was fury. I was free .

“Enough,” I finally gasped, the world coming back into focus as I reined in the tempest. Panting, I looked around at the devastation I had wrought, a wild thrill pulsing through me.

Hands on my knees, I panted as sweat dripped off my forehead.

I looked up at Philesia. “Where do you come from? How can you move between the realm of the gods and here?”

Philesia’s smile held secrets older than the hills surrounding us. “I come from a place where time and space weave together differently than they do here. A realm where the gods watch over the tapestry of life, intervening only when the balance is threatened.”

“Sounds... intense,” I managed, straightening up slightly, trying to grasp the enormity of her words. I brushed my damp hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. “But why me? What’s your stake in helping me?”

“Your realm and mine are more connected than you know.” She paced slowly around me, barely disturbing the air. “The balance here affects the balance there. Your struggle, your growth,” she continued, stopping to face me, “sends ripples through the realms. I am here because you are a pivotal point in this delicate balance.”

Her head tilted, her gaze locked onto mine with an unexpected intensity, and the gravity of her words pulled me deeper into something vast and unknown.

“Your success or failure holds the potential to shift the scales in ways that would resonate beyond your comprehension. You cannot see it yet, but your actions weave into the fabric of realities far wider than the lands you walk.”

I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. Philesia’s revelations about the realms and my place within them settled heavily on my chest.

“Okay,” I said at last. “What now? What do I need to do?”

“Embrace your role,” Philesia answered. “Harness your powers, refine them. You’ve seen what you’re capable of.”

I thought of the battlegrounds, the destruction I could wield, but also the control I’d started to grasp.

“It’s a lot,” I admitted, “all this balance stuff.”

“Yes, it is.” Philesia’s face softened just a touch. “You are not alone.”

“Feels like it sometimes,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“Strength comes from within, but remember, those who care for you are near even when you can’t see them.” She looked up for a split second, and I knew she meant Atticus, even though she didn’t say his name.

“Right.” My resolve hardened. I had a purpose, one that reached beyond what I’d ever imagined. “I’ll train harder. I’ll be ready.”

Philesia nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit.”

“Then let’s get back to it,” I said, stepping forward with newfound determination. “Show me the next challenge.”

An hour later, I stood still, letting the last traces of wind slip through my fingers. My body was tired, but I was completely alive, every cell buzzing from the day’s intense training. I had pushed past what I once thought were limits, calling on the storm and bending it to my will. The power was exhilarating, the control over the elements a sign of my growth. Yet with Philesia’s teachings came the constant reminder that this power wasn’t just mine to command, it was a responsibility, a duty to wield it wisely.

“Good work today,” Philesia said. “Remember, your strength lies not only in commanding the storms but in knowing when they should be calmed.”

I nodded, understanding the double meaning behind her words. Before I could reflect further, the peace of my solitude shattered.

Miren, Corin and Branan—my father’s elders—appeared at the edge of the clearing, their faces stone carvings of disappointment. They moved with purpose, closing the distance with each heavy step. I straightened, trying to shake off the weariness clinging to my limbs. I didn’t need enhanced senses to feel the tension rolling off them in waves.

“Aria,” Miren called out, his voice formal yet tinged with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. Regret, maybe? It was hard to tell with him. “We must convene in the manor. There are matters that require your immediate attention.”

My heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t normal. Their faces told me all I needed to know. This was serious. I swallowed, suddenly aware of the dryness in my throat.

“All right,” I answered, keeping my voice steady. “Let’s go.”

They turned on their heels, and I followed, every aching muscle protesting.

The walk to the manor was short, but with each step, the knot in my stomach tightened. My mind raced through possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

We reached the meeting room, and the chill in the air seemed to seep into my bones. The three men had already taken their places around the long, oak table, their faces grim masks of authority. I took my seat, steeling myself for what was to come.

Miren cleared his throat. “Let’s get straight to the point.”

The others nodded, their eyes fixed on me. Whatever this was about, they were united. This couldn’t be good.

Miren’s intense focus remained fixed on me, never wavering. “The council has deliberated extensively, and it is with heavy hearts that we convey our decision.”

A thick, suffocating silence cloaked the room. The clock on the wall ticked louder with each second, echoing in the tense air.

“I’d be more comfortable if Ilaric were here.”

“That will not be necessary,” Corin interjected quickly. “We have enough of a majority without him.”

My stomach dropped. No Ilaric? They’d already decided, then.

“You are no longer the alpha of the Silver Claw pack,” Miren stated flatly.

Those words, like daggers, cut through every layer of defense I had built around myself. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a silent scream. Anger boiled up within me, licking at the edges of my control.

Disbelief was too tame a word for what I felt. Betrayal? It was more than that. It was as if the very ground beneath my feet had given way. Thank fuck I was sitting. I didn’t want to give these men the satisfaction of watching me fall. I wanted to lash out, to let the storm inside me rage and show them the fury of a leader scorned.

“On what grounds?”

I searched their faces, looking for an ally, a crack in their united front. I was met with unyielding barriers, their expressions locked in icy determination. They’d made their decision without me, casting aside loyalty and tradition as easily as shedding a second skin.

The elders’ mouths moved, spewing out reasons, but the words jumbled together in my mind. I caught fragments only: “Tradition...”

“Stability...”

“Complexities…”

“Tradition dictates a leader’s focus must remain undivided,” Miren continued flatly, as if reading from an ancient script that cared nothing for individuals.

“Stability is paramount.” Branan nodded emphatically. “The pack cannot be led by an alpha with divided intentions.” His tone left no room for argument or doubt.

“Your situation presents complications,” Corin chimed in, almost but not quite apologetically.

Their accusations stung, each one a calculated strike designed to justify their decision. I wanted to argue, to fight back with the ferocity of my untamed spirit, but the shock pinned me down, leaving me defenseless against the onslaught of their so-called justifications.

“Isn’t overcoming challenges part of an alpha’s duty?”

They exchanged looks, a silent conversation happening right in front of me.

“An alpha must be free of distractions to serve the pack effectively,” Miren replied, though his words sounded rehearsed, hollow. “It is decided. Aria, you are no longer the alpha of the Silver Claw pack.”

Their explanations continued, a litany of cold logic and colder tradition, but the words faded into a dull buzz in my ears. All I heard was the sound of my world crumbling around me, brick by brick, dream by dream.

Something heavy shifted in my chest, a sense of loss so profound it threatened to sweep me away. I felt like screaming, demanding they see sense, but the energy required for such defiance eluded me.

“Decided without me,” I muttered, the bitterness seeping through.

“Decided for the good of all,” they responded in unison, a chorus meant to drown out any dissent.

Miren raised a hand as if to silence any further protest, but I sat there, speechless and completely taken aback. “Please refrain from arguing. It will only bring disgrace upon yourself and dishonor your father’s legacy. The decision is final.”

I looked at them, really looked at them, and saw what I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge before. Fear. They were terrified of what I represented, the change I could bring. Fear had led them to strip me of my birthright.

The three men stood, their movement synchronized and final. Chairs scraped back against the floor as they left without another word. I didn’t stand. I didn’t speak. The door clicked shut behind them, a definitive punctuation to their verdict.

Alone, I stared at the empty seats where the elders had just pronounced my fate. The clock on the wall ticked on, indifferent to the earthquake that had just shattered my reality. My fingers traced the grain of the wood table, feeling every ridge and groove, grounding myself to something tangible.

“Tradition,” I whispered to the emptiness, mocking the justifications they’d given. A bitter laugh escaped me. “Stability.” It was ludicrous.

My eyes moved to the crescent moon birthmark visible just above the neckline of my shirt, the mark of destiny that now felt like a cruel joke. Destiny? More like a curse.

“Unburdened by complexities,” I muttered under my breath. What did they know of burdens? Of the weight I carried for the pack, for our future?

“No distractions,” I muttered. They were wrong. It wasn’t a distraction. It was vision. A vision they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see.

A cold shroud wrapped around my shoulders. For a fleeting moment, I had been the alpha, the heart of the Silver Claw pack. Now what was I?

My pack was no longer my family. Everything had slipped through my fingers like water. I could control it, yet there I was, powerless.

The title had been my identity, my pride. Without it, who was Aria of the Silver Claw? Just Aria, with her rare luminescent silver eyes and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Just Aria, who loved too fiercely and acted too rashly.

Alone. That was the truth of it. The pack had turned its back on me, but I couldn’t turn my back on myself. I pushed back my chair and stood. Alone or not, I would face whatever came next. Because if there was one thing about me that hadn’t changed, it was my stubbornness. Perhaps that was enough.