52. Aria

52

ARIA

I flipped urgently through another dusty book, the pages whispering of ancient spells and long-forgotten pacts. My chest tightened with each shallow inhale, the desperation a constant companion in the hallowed halls of Silver Claw manor. Books lay strewn around me like a paper ocean, each one a failed attempt at finding a sliver of hope against the darkness encroaching on us.

The silence around me was a living thing, smothering and thick, until it shattered when Lorian suddenly appeared. He phased through the ceiling as if it were made of smoke, his form solidifying gracefully on landing. The old-world charm he carried felt oddly comforting amidst the hubbub that had become my life.

“Miss Aria,” he began. “Forgive the intrusion, but I come bearing news.”

I sat up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “What is it, Lorian?”

“Seren and Eldan will be returning shortly,” he announced, bowing low, his formal demeanor adding an air of importance to his words. His face held a spark of something I couldn’t quite place—hope, perhaps, or excitement.

“Did they find anything?” I asked.

“That, I cannot say for certain,” he replied, adjusting the cuffs of his ethereal attire. “However, their approach is hastened, which suggests some importance in their discovery.”

“Thank you.” I pushed off the bed, sending scrolls tumbling to the floor. “I suppose I better tidy some of this up before they arrive.”

“No need, Miss Aria.” Lorian nodded, a smile ghosting across his lips. “I shall see to it that everything is tidied and ready.”

“Thank you, Lorian.” I moved past him, the sea of paper parting under my determined steps. It was time to face whatever news awaited, with the hope that it might finally turn the tide in our favor.

The door burst open, and Seren and Eldan rushed inside. Their breath came in short, ragged gasps, their eyes wide with the kind of news that had the ability to save or shatter worlds.

“Listen,” Seren said, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “We’ve found something.”

I sat up straighter. “What is it?”

“Remember when you felt Atticus’s pain?” Seren asked.

“Yes,” I answered, recalling the sharp, unexpected agony. It wasn’t something I would forget anytime soon. “We’ve always felt each other’s emotions but never physical pain.”

“That connection. It’s deeper than we thought.” Seren paced, her scholar’s mind piecing the puzzle together right before us. “From what I’ve just read, you can do more than feel each other. The tie allows you to share power, amplify it.”

“Share power?” I echoed, skeptical but desperate for any sliver of hope.

“More than that,” she insisted. “Once you’re mated, there’s an untapped well of power unique to you two. The prophecy, the ritual… It would make you the most powerful beings in our realm—even more powerful than Caius.”

I blinked at her. If she was right, this could change everything.

“Explain it to me again,” I demanded with both skepticism and a hunger for the possibility Seren dangled before us. “How does this well of power work?”

Seren leaned forward, her eyes alight with fervor. “It’s like two rivers joining to form an ocean, Aria. Your link with Atticus isn’t just a trickle of shared sentiment. It’s a floodgate. Once you complete the mating ceremony, that gate opens.”

“An ocean...” I murmured, trying to envision the magnitude of such power.

“Exactly,” she said. “In that ocean lies a wellspring of magic, pure and untapped. You’ll be able to draw from it, amplify your own abilities beyond anything we’ve seen.”

The edges of hope nibbled at my doubt. “You’re sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” Seren said with unwavering certainty.

Lorian, who had been standing silent until now, cleared his throat gently, drawing our attention. “If I may,” he interjected. “I have performed the mating ceremony before in Miss Thea’s stead when she wasn’t available. It would be an honor to do so again for you.”

I looked at him, noting the earnestness in his expression. His offer was more than just assistance; it was a lifeline extended with a hand that remembered the touch of love and ritual.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling the shift within me from despair to something that felt like resolve. “We may very well take you up on that.” I turned to Eldan. “Find Ilaric. Tell him to bring Atticus’s chosen family. We’re raiding Crimson Fang tonight.”

Eldan nodded, his face set in grim determination. He didn’t waste a moment, turning on his heel.

“Graveyard,” I added, my voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. “Tell them to meet us there. It’s time we end this.”

With no more words left to say, I moved back to the bed, the old frame creaking. The room felt hollow. I closed my eyes, focusing inward on the pulsating tie that connected Atticus and me. The deep, unseen thread united us beyond mere emotions.

I probed the bond gently, seeking entry into that shared space where his magic lay intertwined with mine. I tugged softly at the essence of his power. Then, almost imperceptibly, something within the link yielded to my touch.

There was a chill around my feet, and when I opened my eyes, shadows had begun to coalesce around my feet, slithering across the floorboards like spilled ink. Something I associated with Atticus, and here they were. I directed them to move. This would all be for naught if they didn’t comply.

Nothing.

I had to try again. I owed it to myself, to the pack, not to give up. I thought of them as water. It had been the first element that had been mine to command and one I’d always manipulated with ease. I lay back and closed my eyes, reaching for the shadows. I thought of them in the same way I did with the drops of water, how it felt when they moved at my command, the way the droplets danced through the air.

This time, I knew something was different. Peering through my lashes, excitement bubbled in my chest. I marveled at how the pools of darkness now swarmed above me, swirling and shifting over my head. It was a mesmerizing display, proof of the untapped power Seren had described.

This was real. This was possible.

We were going to change the tides of war.

I hurried to the edge of the forest, then decided I’d be faster on four paws than two legs. I focused inward, feeling the bones and muscles move and rearrange as my wolf form emerged, silver fur shimmering in the moonlight. With a burst of energy, I started running across the familiar path, paws pounding on the dirt path.

I arrived at the graveyard ahead of everyone, my stomach churning. I would not order anyone into this battle. In this war, each individual would be given the autonomy to decide whether they wanted to engage in the fight.

The moon hung low, its light cutting through the mist as figures emerged from the shadows. I stood next to a centuries-old willow tree, its aged bark rough under my grip. How many wars had it seen? I hoped, for all of us, this was how we’d win, restore the balance, and maybe peace could reign over Lycanterra.

A young shifter approached me, his head bowed respectfully. “Is it time?”

“Almost,” I replied steadily.

Following closely behind, Seren joined me, her hand finding mine in a gesture of solidarity and encouragement. Eldan and Ilaric entered the graveyard together. The air was heavy with the presence of the spirits who had come to offer their support. Ilaric came to stand beside me. My wise mentor’s eyes were steady, observing everything with a keen gaze.

As Mia joined him, I marveled at the comfort they found in each other. Ilaric’s lips brushed against the healer’s cheek, which flushed a rosy pink. At least some good had come out of the mess I’d made.

Atticus’s chosen family—Lyza, Joren, and Hale—came next, along with the rogue’s who had stood with us the first time we ventured into Crimson Fang territory for the battle that had claimed my father’s life. My gaze drifted over the people gathered, over the familiar faces of my pack, Their diverse backgrounds and histories converged here on a shared purpose, ready to unite and fight together. It was truly inspiring.

It was time.

“It’s heartwarming to see you all here.” I called out, raising my voice to be heard. “None of you will be forced to join us. You have a choice. This is not your fight. You may leave now if you want, and it won’t be held against you.”

Whispers rustled like leaves in the wind as the group exchanged glances, but no one moved. Their faces were set with grim determination.

“Good,” I said. “Let’s get to work.”

We huddled around a cracked tombstone that served as our makeshift planning table.

“Okay,” I started, scanning the group. “Lorian, we need you to perform the bonds. It’s the only way we’ll access the well of magic.”

He nodded, his face grave. “It will be done swiftly.”

“Remember,” I continued, “Caius is off-limits until we have that power. Don’t engage him. Don’t even get close.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathering. We were different pieces of the same puzzle, fitting with one another for one purpose.

“Stay alive,” I finished. “That’s an order.”

They nodded, each one ready to play their part.

Ilaric stepped forward, his eyes reflecting the moonlight that slipped through the gnarled branches above. “When it’s time, count on me to boost your strength.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “We’ll need every advantage.”

“Always,” he replied with a grim smirk.

I glanced around. Everyone was in position.

“Let’s move out,” I commanded.

As we edged closer to Crimson Fang, I reached deep within myself, searching for that familiar thread of darkness. Atticus’s gift. The shadows responded, coiling around my senses like a second skin.

“Atticus, lend me your strength.”

I felt a surge, a silent acknowledgment from our bond. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focused on that power, on the pulse of it in my veins. When I opened them again, the world had shifted, wrapped in an opaque veil of shadows.

“Keep close,” I whispered.

We moved as one, unseen, the night cloaking us from prying eyes.