El Rey Alfa la rechazó hace tres años.

.

.

Ahora la necesita para salvar su reino.

The frost had settled deep into the wooden beams of the cabin by the time Eloin returned from the healer’s hut.

She moved through the small space with a quiet efficiency of someone who had learned to take up as little room as possible.

Outside the wind pressed against the walls, carrying the distant howls of wolves that did not belong to any pack she recognized.

She had chosen this place carefully, far enough from the capital that no one would think to look for her.

close enough to the northern wilds that the scent of the great packs thinned into something wilder, less ordered.

Here, she was not the girl whose wolf had died in front of the entire court.

She was simply the woman who lived at the edge of the trees and asked for nothing.

Elo set the basket down and began sorting the dried herbs with steady hands.

Her fingers did not tremble.

They had not trembled in a long time.

3 years was long enough to build something resembling peace.

Long enough to stop waking with the taste of silver on her tongue.

Long enough, she had told herself, to stop expecting the past to reach across the distance and close its fingers around her throat.

A sharp knock broke the quiet.

She paused, listening.

Three sets of footsteps, heavy, purposeful, not the light tread of the villagers.

When she opened the door, the cold air rushed in, carrying the scent of oiled leather and the capital.

The man at the front wore the silver and black crest of the royal guard on his chest.

His eyes moved over her without recognition, then settled on her face with the detached efficiency of someone delivering an order.

Illan Voss, he said.

By command of Alpha King Thorne Blackthornne, you are to return to the capital.

The name landed like ice against her spine.

But she did not let it show.

She kept one hand on the door frame, the other resting near the small blade at her hip.

I am not under his command, she answered.

The guard did not argue.

He simply reached into his cloak and withdrew a folded piece of black cloth bearing the royal seal.

He placed it on the small table just inside the door without stepping further into the cabin.

The curse has reached the outer territories, he said.

The king believes only you can stop it.

Eloan looked at the crest but did not touch it.

She could feel old Mara watching from the shadows near the hearth, but the old woman remained silent.

After a moment, Eloin spoke again, her voice low.

Tell him I left of my own will.

I have no intention of returning.

The guard studied her for a beat longer than necessary.

Then he gave a single nod, turned, and disappeared back into the snow with his men.

The door closed behind them, but the cold seemed to linger in the room.

Old Mara finally moved, stepping forward to place a hand on the back of a chair.

You don’t have to open that, she said, nodding toward the folded crest.

Aloan stared at it.

The black wax seal caught the firelight.

She knew what it would say.

She also knew that ignoring it would not make the words disappear.

She reached out slowly and broke the seal.

Inside was a single line written in a hand she still recognized.

Come back.

Not for me, for what is left.

Eloin read it twice.

Then she folded the paper again, her movements careful, almost gentle.

She placed it on the table and turned toward the window, watching the snow fall over the dark line of trees.

For 3 years she had told herself that the kingdom could burn without her, that she owed them nothing.

That survival was its own kind of victory.

But the words on the paper had not asked her to return for Thorne.

They had asked her to return for what remained.

and that she realized with a quiet, unwilling twist in her chest, was harder to turn away from than she had expected.

The snow had thickened by the time the second knock came.

Elo was still standing by the window when the door opened without invitation.

She turned slowly, one hand already resting on the hilt of her blade.

Thorn, blackthornne, stepped inside, snow clinging to the dark fur lining of his cloak.

He did not wear the full ceremonial armor she remembered from the capital, only traveling leathers and a heavy cloak that did little to soften the breadth of his shoulders.

His golden eyes found her immediately and did not move away.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The fire popped behind her.

Outside, the wind pressed against the cabin like something alive.

Thorne’s gaze moved over her face, taking in the shorter hair, the scar along her jaw, the way she no longer lowered her eyes when she looked at him.

Something shifted in his expression not quite regret, but close enough that she felt it in the space between them.

You left, he said at last.

His voice was rougher than she remembered, worn thin by cold and something heavier.

Eloan did not answer right away.

She studied the way he held himself, the slight tension in his jaw, the way his hand rested near the hilt of his sword, even inside her home.

He looked like a man who had not slept properly in weeks.

I did, she replied.

Thorne’s eyes flicked to the folded crest on the table.

Then back to her.

He did not step closer.

The northern borders are gone, he said.

Two alphas turned on their own lunas during the last full moon.

One of them tore his mate apart before his own men could put him down.

The children in the outer villages have started showing signs.

Some refuse to shift back.

Others attack anything that moves.

He stopped.

The silence that followed was heavier than the words.

Eloan felt the images settle behind her ribs.

She did not want them there.

She had spent 3 years keeping the kingdom suffering at a distance.

And you believe I can stop it? she said.

Thorne held her gaze.

The old texts say the curse can only be broken by the blood of the one whose bond was severed under the blood moon.

That’s you.

Eloan let out a slow breath through her nose.

She turned slightly toward the fire, giving herself a moment to steady the sudden, unwanted tightening in her chest.

You traveled all this way to tell me that, she said quietly.

You could have sent someone else.

I needed to see you myself.

The words were simple.

They should not have landed as heavily as they did.

Eloan looked at him again.

Really looked.

There were new lines at the corners of his eyes.

His hair was longer than she remembered, and there was a weariness in the set of his shoulders that had not been there before.

He carried the weight of a kingdom that was rotting from the inside, and it showed.

She hated that she could still see it.

I’m not the son Shu rejected, she said.

Whatever power you think runs in my blood, I don’t know how to use it.

I spent 3 years making sure I never had to.

Thorne was quiet for a long moment.

Then he spoke, his voice lower.

I know what I took from you that night, he said.

I know what the court did afterward.

I let them call you wolf dead while you were still breathing.

I told myself it was necessary.

He paused, jaw tightening.

It wasn’t.

The admission hung between them, raw and late.

Eloan did not soften.

She simply watched him, letting the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable.

After a while, she asked, If I refuse, what will you do? Thorne met her eyes without flinching.

I will return to a kingdom that is dying, he answered.

and I will watch it finish rotting.

He did not plead.

He did not threaten.

He simply stated it as fact.

Eloan turned back toward the window.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, erasing the tracks the guards had left earlier.

For 3 years, she had told herself that walking away had been enough.

That survival was its own answer.

But the images Thorne had described alphas killing their own mates.

Children turning on their families refused to leave her mind.

She hated that they mattered.

She hated even more that he had known they would.

Without looking at him, she spoke.

Tell me everything, she said.

Then I will decide.

Thorne remained where he was, the fire light casting long shadows across his face.

For the first time since he entered, Eloin allowed herself to truly look at the man who had once destroyed her, and she wondered with a quiet, bitter clarity whether saving his kingdom would cost her the only thing she had managed to keep for herself.

The fire had burned low by the time Eloin finally moved.

She crossed the room and poured two cups of the tea old Mara had left warming near the hearth.

She placed one on the table in front of Thorne without meeting his eyes, then took the other for herself and remained standing.

The distance felt necessary.

Thorne did not touch the cup.

He watched her instead.

The way she held herself, shoulders straight, chin lifted, every movement deliberate.

She had learned how to make herself unreadable.

He recognized the skill because he had spent years perfecting it himself.

The curse does not just break control, he said after a moment.

His voice was quieter now, meant only for the space between them.

It feeds on the bond between wolf and human.

The stronger the bond, the faster it rots.

Alphas are falling first because their bonds run deepest.

Some have started locking themselves away before the full moon.

Others don’t get the chance.

Eloan kept her gaze on the steam rising from her cup.

She did not want to picture it.

She did not want to care.

Yet the question slipped out anyway.

How many? Thorne was silent for several seconds.

17 packs.

He answered.

That we know of.

The number settled between them like falling ash.

Elo finally looked at him.

And the capital still holding, he said.

for now.

She studied his face, the exhaustion carved into it, the way his hand rested on the table as though he were holding something heavy, even while sitting still.

He had always carried the kingdom like armor.

Now the armor was cracking, and he was letting her see it.

She hated how much that mattered.

You could have forced me, she said.

You have the men.

You have the authority.

Thorne’s mouth tightened.

I considered it.

The honesty of the answer surprised her.

But you didn’t, she said.

No.

He looked at her directly.

Because I already took enough from you without asking.

I will not take the choice of whether to watch this kingdom die.

The words landed with more weight than she expected.

Eloin felt them settle somewhere beneath her ribs in the place she had kept carefully empty for 3 years.

She turned slightly, giving herself a moment to breathe.

Outside the snow had begun to fall harder, blurring the line between the trees and the night.

She thought of the village beyond the cabin, of the children who played near the edge of the woods, of the wolves she had treated these past weeks, whose eyes had held something wrong.

If she stayed here, she could keep the life she had built.

Small, quiet, hers.

If she went back, she would be stepping into the same world that had once looked at her like she was already dead.

Eloan closed her eyes briefly.

When she opened them, her voice was steady but low.

I will go with you, she said.

But not as your subject, not as your weapon, and not because you asked.

Thorne waited, she met his ker.

I will go because I will not let children die for a kingdom that never protected them.

But I decide how far I go.

And the moment I choose to stop, you will not stop me.

Thorne held her stare for a long moment.

Then he gave a single slow nod.

Understood.

The fire crackled between them.

Neither moved to close the distance.

The air remained thick with everything they had not said.

The rejection, the years of silence, the blood that might still be required of her.

Eloan looked at the man who had once stood above her in the great hall and declared her unworthy.

Now he stood in her small cabin, asking her to save what was left of his world.

She did not know if she was strong enough to survive it a second time.

But as she looked at the snow falling outside, she knew she could not stay here and pretend the rot would not eventually reach even this far.

She turned back to Thorne.

We leave at first light, she said.

Thorne inclined his head once more.

This time when he spoke, his voice carried something that had not been there before.

Thank you.

Eloan did not answer.

She simply walked to the window and watched the snow continue to fall, wondering how much of herself she would have to give away this time in order to stop a kingdom from destroying itself.

The sky was still dark when Eloan stepped outside.

She stood on the narrow porch of the cabin, the cold biting through her cloak as she looked out at the snow-covered trees.

The village was quiet.

Most of the cabins still had their shutters closed against the winter morning.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine staying waking to the same frost on the windows, the same simple rhythm of treating wounds and avoiding questions.

It would have been easier.

Behind her, the door opened.

Thorne stepped out, already dressed for travel.

He carried no extra guards this time, only two horses and a single pack.

He had left most of his men at the edge of the territory, as she had demanded the night before.

Eloin did not turn around immediately.

You’re early, she said.

I didn’t want to give you time to change your mind.

She almost smiled at that, but the expression died before it could form.

Instead, she adjusted the strap of her own small pack and stepped down into the snow.

The cold crunched beneath her boots.

Old Mara stood a short distance away, wrapped in a thick shawl.

She didn’t try to stop Eloin.

She simply watched with those sharp, knowing eyes.

You don’t owe them anything, the old woman said quietly.

Elo paused.

She looked back at the cabin that had been her home for the past 3 years.

It wasn’t much a single room, a hearth, a bed that didn’t belong to anyone else, but it had been hers.

I know, she answered.

Mara studied her for a moment longer, then gave a small nod.

Then come back when you’re done, if you can, Eloan didn’t promise anything.

She simply inclined her head and turned away.

Thorne was already mounted.

He didn’t offer to help her onto her horse.

He simply waited, his gloved hands resting on the res, watching her with that same unreadable expression he had worn since the night before.

Eloan swung herself into the saddle without assistance.

The leather creaked beneath her.

For the first time in years, she was heading south again toward the kingdom she had tried to forget.

They rode in silence for the first hour.

The only sounds were the crunch of hooves in the snow and the occasional call of a bird overhead.

Eloin kept her gaze forward, but she was aware of Thorne riding beside her.

Not close enough to crowd her, but close enough that she could feel his presence.

It unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

After a while, he spoke.

The curse moves faster near the old temples, he said.

The ones built before the first Alpha Kings.

Some of the priests believe it was sealed there once.

Eloin didn’t look at him.

And now it’s waking up.

Yes.

She was quiet for a few more strides before asking why now.

Thorne was silent for a long moment.

When he finally answered, his voice was low.

Because 3 years ago, during the blood moon, something broke.

Eloin’s hands tightened slightly on the res.

She didn’t need him to explain what he meant.

She had felt it too, the night her bond had been severed so violently that something inside her had gone quiet.

She had assumed it was only her own wolf that died that night.

She hadn’t considered that something else might have been released in its place.

They continued riding as the sun climbed higher, the light turning the snow from pale blue to blinding white.

By midday, they reached the first signs of the curse.

It started with the silence.

The forest had gone too quiet.

No birds, no small animals moving through the undergrowth.

Even the wind seemed to move differently here, slower, heavier.

Then they saw the first body.

It was a wolf, half shifted, lying twisted at the edge of the path.

Its fur was matted with dried blood, and its eyes were open, staring at nothing.

The expression on what remained of its face was not peaceful.

It looked like it had died fighting something inside itself.

Eloan pulled her horse to a stop.

She stared at the corpse for a long moment, her stomach turning.

Thorne dismounted and approached the body.

He crouched beside it, examining the wounds without touching it.

This one didn’t make it through the last full moon, he said.

His voice was flat, but there was something tight beneath it.

He was from one of the border packs.

I knew his alpha.

Eloan remained on her horse.

She couldn’t look away from the dead wolf’s face.

The features were still recognizable enough to tell that it had once been a person.

How many like this? She asked.

Too many.

Thorne stood.

And it’s getting worse.

Elo finally looked at him.

For the first time since he had appeared at her door, she allowed herself to truly see the weight he was carrying.

It wasn’t just duty.

It was exhaustion.

And beneath that, something that looked dangerously close to fear.

She hated that she recognized it.

They rode past the body without another word.

By late afternoon, the trees began to thin.

In the distance, Eloan could see the faint outline of what used to be a small trading post.

Smoke still rose from one of the chimneys, but it was thin and wrong somehow.

Too dark, too still.

Thorne slowed his horse.

We should stop here for the night, he said.

The next stretch of road isn’t safe after dark.

Elo didn’t argue.

She was tired, and the cold had settled deep into her bones.

But as they approached the trading post, a different kind of unease crept over her.

The place was too quiet.

No voices, no movement, only the sound of their horses hooves and the wind moving through the broken shutters.

Thorne dismounted first.

His hand rested on his sword as he scanned the buildings.

Eloin followed, her own blade already in her hand.

They moved through the small settlement carefully.

Most of the doors hung open.

Inside one of the cabins, they found overturned furniture and dark stains on the wooden floor.

In another, they found a child’s wooden toy, half buried in the snow outside the door.

No bodies.

That somehow was worse.

Elo stood in the middle of the empty square, looking at the abandoned buildings.

The wind moved through them like a low moan.

This happened recently, she said.

Thorne nodded.

His expression had gone hard.

Two weeks ago, maybe less.

Eloin turned in a slow circle, taking in the silence.

She could almost feel it, the wrongness that lingered in the air.

It pressed against her skin like something alive.

For the first time since leaving Black Hollow, a cold thread of real fear moved through her.

This was no longer just a story Thorne had told her to bring her back.

This was real, and it was spreading.

She looked at Thorne, who was watching her carefully.

You should have told me it was this bad.

She said quietly.

I needed you to come, he answered.

If I had told you everything, you might have stayed away.

Eloan held his gaze.

The wind pulled at her cloak, carrying the faint metallic scent of old blood.

I still might, she said, but even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren’t entirely true.

Because standing here in the middle of what had once been a living place, she could feel something shifting inside her chest again.

Not the dead, hollow feeling she had carried for 3 years, something older, something waking.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she could keep walking away from it.

The trading post offered little shelter, but it was better than sleeping in the open snow.

They chose one of the smaller cabins at the edge of the settlement, the one with the fewest signs of violence.

Thorne barred the door with a broken beam.

While Eloin checked the single room for anything that might still be alive, there was nothing, only overturned furniture, a cold hearth, and the faint metallic scent that lingered no matter how long the place had been empty.

Illan lit a small fire with what little dry wood she could find.

The flames were weak and gave off more smoke than heat, but it was enough to push back the worst of the cold.

She sat on the floor with her back against the wall, her blade resting across her lap.

Thorne remained near the window, watching the darkness outside.

He had removed his cloak, but kept his sword within reach.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Eventually, Eloin broke the silence.

How long until we reached the capital? Thorne didn’t turn around.

4 days if the roads stay clear.

Longer if we have to avoid the worst of the affected territories.

Eloan nodded once, though he couldn’t see it.

She stared into the fire, watching the flames eat through the damp wood.

Her mind kept returning to the empty square outside, and the way the wind had moved through the abandoned buildings like it was looking for something.

She hated how easily the fear had settled into her bones.

After a while, Thorne spoke again.

his voice low.

You can still turn back.

Eloan looked up at him.

He was still facing the window, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.

I already said I would go, she answered.

I know.

He paused.

That doesn’t mean you have to stay.

Eloan studied the line of his back.

There was something in the way he said it.

Not quite an offer, but close, as if he was giving her permission to leave.

Even now, she didn’t know what to do with that.

I saw what that curse does, she said quietly.

I’m not going to pretend I didn’t.

Thorne finally turned to face her.

The firelight cast half his face in shadow.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself.

Instead, he asked, Why did you really leave? Eloan held his gaze.

She could have given him the easy answer that she had been humiliated, that the court had made her into something less than human, that she had refused to stay where she was no longer wanted.

All of those things were true.

But they weren’t the whole truth.

I left because if I had stayed, I would have become exactly what they said I was, she said.

A ghost, and I was tired of being dead while I was still breathing.

Thorne didn’t look away.

Something moved behind his eyes.

It’s not pity, but something heavier.

He nodded slowly, as if he understood more than she had expected him to.

They fell into silence again.

Later, when the fire had burned down to embers, Eloin tried to sleep.

She lay on the hard floor with her cloak pulled over her, but rest wouldn’t come.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the twisted body of the wolf they had passed on the road.

She saw the empty cabins.

She saw the way the children’s toy had been left half buried in the snow.

She also saw Thorne’s face when he had stood in her cabin and told her the truth without trying to soften it.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she heard him move.

He didn’t come closer.

He simply sat on the other side of the dying fire, his back against the opposite wall, sword resting across his knees, keeping watch.

Elo opened her eyes and watched him through the dim light.

He looked exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that went deeper than lack of sleep.

She wondered how long he had been carrying this alone.

How many nights he had spent staring into the dark, trying to find a way to stop something that was eating his kingdom from the inside.

She hated that she could still feel the old pull toward him.

Even now, not love, something older and more complicated, something that had survived the rejection and the years of silence.

It made her angry.

You should sleep, she said quietly.

Thorne didn’t look at her.

I will when we’re somewhere safer.

Elo was quiet for a moment.

Then she asked the question that had been sitting in her chest since they left Black Hollow.

If I can’t stop this, what will you do? Thorne was silent for so long she thought he might not answer.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.

I don’t know.

The honesty of it unsettled her more than any lie would have.

Elo turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

The beams above her were cracked and weathered.

She wondered how many winters this place had survived before the curse came.

She wondered if she would survive what was waiting for her at the end of this road.

Outside, the wind moved through the empty settlement like a low, endless sigh.

Elo closed her eyes, but she didn’t sleep.

And across the dying fire, Thorne kept his vigil in silence.

The weight of a dying kingdom resting on his shoulders, and the woman he had once rejected lying just out of reach.

They left the abandoned trading post at first light.

The sky was a dull, heavy gray, and the snow had turned to a thin, icy crust that crunched beneath the horse’s hooves.

Eloan rode in silence, her cloak pulled tight against the cold.

She hadn’t slept much.

Every time she closed her eyes, the images from the empty settlement returned the dark stains on the floor.

The abandoned toy, the way the wind had sounded like it was mourning something.

Thorne rode beside her without speaking.

He seemed content to let the silence stretch between them.

Elo was grateful for it.

She didn’t know what she would say if he tried to make conversation.

By midday, the forest began to change.

The trees grew thinner and more twisted, their branches reaching toward the sky like broken fingers.

The snow here was stained in places dark patches that hadn’t been covered by fresh fall.

Elo didn’t ask what had caused them.

She already knew.

They passed the remains of another small settlement just before noon.

This one was worse than the last.

Several cabins had been burned.

The smell of charred wood and something sweeter, more terrible, still lingered in the air.

Eloin slowed her horse without meaning to.

Thorne noticed.

We don’t have to stop, he said.

Elo stared at the ruined buildings.

She could see movement near one of the collapsed structures.

A wolf, or what had once been a wolf, pacing in tight, erratic circles.

Its fur was matted and patchy.

Even from a distance, she could see that its eyes were wrong.

Too bright.

Too wild.

It hadn’t noticed them yet, Eloin swallowed.

How long has it been like this? Longer than I wanted to admit, Thorne answered.

His voice was quiet.

I kept hoping it would burn itself out, that it was just another sickness that would pass with the seasons, Eloan looked at him.

For the first time, she saw the full weight of what he had been carrying.

He hadn’t just been searching for a solution.

He had been watching his kingdom rot while trying to hold it together with failing hands.

And now, she asked, Thorne met her eyes.

Now I’m out of time.

They rode past the ruined settlement without stopping.

The twisted wolf didn’t follow them, but Eloan could feel its presence long after it disappeared from view.

Something about it had felt deeply wrong.

Not just sick, but changed.

As the afternoon wore on, the tension between them began to shift.

It was no longer just the silence of two people who didn’t know what to say to each other.

It was something heavier.

Elo could feel Thorne watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She could also feel the questions he wasn’t asking.

Eventually, she broke the silence.

You said the curse feeds on bonds, she said.

What happens when there’s no bond left to feed on? Thorne was quiet for a moment.

Then it finds other ways to spread, he said.

Through blood, through fear, through whatever is left when the wolf inside someone starts to die.

Eloan looked down at her gloved hands.

She thought about the silver collar she had worn for 3 years, the one that had marked her as wolf dead.

She had hated it.

She had also grown used to the silence it represented.

Now that silence felt like it might be the only thing keeping her safe.

They made camp that evening near a frozen stream.

Thorne built the fire while Eloin checked the horses.

Neither of them spoke much.

The cold had settled deep into their bones, and the weight of what they had seen during the day made conversation feel pointless.

After they ate, Eloin sat with her back against a tree, staring into the flames.

Thorne sat across from her, sharpening his blade with slow, methodical strokes.

The sound was oddly soothing.

Hiloan watched him for a while before speaking.

You could have married someone else years ago, she said.

Someone with power, someone the court would have accepted.

Why didn’t you? Thorne didn’t look up from his blade.

Because none of them were you.

The answer was simple.

Too simple.

It landed between them with more force than it should have.

Eloan felt something twist in her chest.

She looked away back into the fire.

That’s not an answer, she said quietly.

Thorne stopped sharpening.

He set the blade down across his knees and finally looked at her.

I tried, he admitted.

After you left, I tried to choose someone the kingdom needed.

Someone who could help hold the packs together.

He paused.

None of them felt right.

Not after what I did to you.

Eloan kept her eyes on the flames.

She didn’t want to hear this.

She didn’t want to feel the old wound shift inside her even a little.

You don’t get to say that now, she said.

Not after 3 years.

I know.

Thorne’s voice was rough.

But it’s still true.

The fire crackled between them.

Eloin could feel the heat on her face, but it didn’t reach the cold place inside her chest.

She stood up abruptly.

I’m going to check the perimeter, she said.

Thorne didn’t try to stop her.

Eloan walked a short distance from the fire into the trees.

The cold air stung her lungs.

She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out into the darkness, trying to steady her breathing.

She had spent 3 years telling herself that Thorn Blackthornne meant nothing to her anymore.

That the rejection had killed whatever had once existed between them.

That she was better off without him, without the kingdom, without any of it.

But standing here now, with the weight of the curse pressing down on everything, she could feel the truth she had been avoiding.

She had never truly stopped caring, and that terrified her more than the dying wolves or the abandoned villages.

Because if she still cared, even a little, then going back might cost her more than she was willing to lose.

Eloan closed her eyes and let the cold wind move over her face.

She didn’t know how much longer she could keep lying to herself.

They rode harder the next day.

The forest had grown thinner, and the snow gave way to patches of frozen earth and dead grass.

The air felt different here, heavier, as if something unseen was pressing down on the land.

Elo could feel it in her chest, a low, persistent pressure that made it harder to breathe the closer they got to the capital’s outer territories.

Thorne had grown quieter since the previous night.

He still rode beside her, but the space between them felt more deliberate now.

Elo didn’t know if that was because of what he had said by the fire or because of what lay ahead.

By late afternoon, they crested a ridge and saw the first real signs of how far the curse had spread.

Below them lay what had once been a prosperous border town.

Smoke rose from several buildings in thin, dark columns.

Even from a distance, Eloan could see wolves moving through the streets in erratic patterns, some half-shifted, others fully in their beast forms, but clearly not in control.

The howls that carried up to them were wrong.

They sounded more like screams than calls.

Thorne pulled his horse to a stop.

His expression had gone hard.

We can go around, he said.

There’s another road further east.

Eloan stared down at the town.

She could see people or what remained of them moving between the buildings.

Some were trying to barricade doors.

Others were already beyond help.

If we go around, how many more will die before we reach the capital? she asked.

Thorne didn’t answer immediately.

Too many? he admitted.

Elo tightened her grip on the res.

She could feel something stirring beneath her skin again.

That same restless, ancient feeling she had been trying to ignore.

Since Thorne appeared at her door, it was stronger here, closer to the heart of the curse.

She hated it, but she hated the thought of riding past this town even more.

We go through, she said.

Thorne looked at her.

For a moment, she thought he would argue.

Instead, he gave a single nod and turned his horse toward the slope leading down into the valley.

They entered the town as the sun began to set.

The streets were chaos.

Wolves that had once been people ran through the snow in packs, attacking anything that moved.

Some had turned on each other.

Others were simply running in circles, lost in whatever madness had taken hold of them.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and fear.

Elo kept her horse close to thorns as they moved through the main road.

Her blade was already in her hand.

She could feel her heart pounding hard against her ribs, but her mind was strangely clear.

A large wolf suddenly lunged out from between two buildings.

Teeth bared and eyes glowing with a sickly yellow light.

It went straight for Thorne’s horse.

Before she could think, Eloin moved.

She didn’t know how she did it.

One moment she was reaching for her blade.

The next something inside her chest pulled tight and a sharp pulse of silver light burst from her palm.

It struck the wolf mid leap and sent it crashing into the side of a building.

The creature hit the ground hard and didn’t get back up.

Eloan stared at her own hand, breathing fast.

The light was already gone, but she could still feel the echo of it under her skin, warm and ancient and terrifyingly familiar.

Thorne had turned in his saddle to look at her.

His golden eyes were wide.

You used it, he said quietly.

Elo didn’t answer.

She couldn’t.

Her hand was still tingling and her heart was beating too hard.

She hadn’t meant to do that.

She hadn’t even known she could.

Another wolf appeared at the end of the street.

This one larger than the first.

It let out a guttural broken howl and charged toward them.

Thorne dismounted in one fluid motion and drew his sword.

Eloin followed, her legs unsteady beneath her.

They fought side by side.

It was nothing like the clean, disciplined battles she had once seen in the capital’s training grounds.

This was brutal and desperate.

Thorne moved with lethal precision, cutting down any wolf that came too close.

Eloan stayed near him, using her blade when she could.

and that strange silver pulse when she couldn’t.

Each time she used it, the power came easier and left her feeling more hollow afterward.

By the time the street was clear, both of them were breathing hard.

Blood, some of it theirs, most of it not stained the snow around them.

Elo leaned against a broken cart, trying to catch her breath.

Her hands were shaking.

Thorne wiped his blade on a torn piece of cloth and looked at her.

You shouldn’t have used it, he said.

His voice was rough.

Not yet.

Not like this.

Elo let out a short bitter laugh.

Would you rather I let that thing rip your throat out? Thorne stepped closer.

For a moment, she thought he might reach for her.

He didn’t.

He simply stood there close enough that she could see the conflict in his eyes.

I don’t want you to burn yourself out before we even reach the capital, he said quietly.

Elo looked away.

She could still feel the power lingering under her skin, like embers that refused to die.

It scared her how natural it had felt in the moment.

I didn’t choose this, she said.

Any of it.

I know.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Around them, the town continued to burn and howl in the distance.

They couldn’t stay here long.

Elo pushed herself off the cart and wiped her blade clean.

We should keep moving, she said before more of them come.

Thorne nodded.

But before he turned away, he spoke again, softer this time.

You didn’t have to come back for this.

Elo paused.

She looked at him over her shoulder.

No, she said.

I didn’t.

She didn’t say the rest.

That part of her still resented him for dragging her back into this world.

that another part of her was starting to understand why he had.

Instead, she mounted her horse and waited for him to do the same.

As they rode out of the ruined town, Eloin kept her eyes forward, but she could feel the power still humming faintly beneath her skin like it was waiting, and for the first time since she left Black Hollow.

She wasn’t entirely sure she could keep it buried.

They didn’t speak much for the rest of the day.

Elo rode with her shoulders tight and her hands gripping the rains harder than necessary.

Every so often she would glance down at her palm, half expecting to see the silver light still flickering beneath her skin.

It was gone now, but the memory of it remained the way it had surged out of her without permission.

The way it had felt both foreign and terrifyingly familiar.

She hated how easily it had come to her.

By the time they made camp that evening, her body felt heavy and her head achd.

She sat near the fire with her back against a fallen log, staring into the flames while Thorne tended to the horses.

The silence between them was no longer uncomfortable.

It had become something else, something watchful.

Thorne returned after a while and sat across from her.

He placed a piece of dried meat in a water skin in front of her without a word.

Elo didn’t thank him.

She simply took the food and ate slowly, her mind still replaying the moment she had struck that wolf with silver light.

After a while, Thorne spoke.

You shouldn’t have used it like that.

Eloan didn’t look up.

You already said that.

I’m saying it again.

His voice was low, but firm.

That’s power.

It’s not stable yet.

If you keep forcing it out without control, it will take more from you than you’re ready to give.

Eloan finally lifted her gaze to meet his.

There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it made something in her chest twist uncomfortably.

You don’t get to worry about me, she said quietly.

Thorne held her stare.

I know, but I’m doing it anyway.

The honesty in his voice caught her off guard.

She looked away, back into the fire.

They sat in silence for several minutes.

The only sounds were the crackling of the flames and the occasional distant howl carried by the wind.

Eloin could feel Thorne watching her, but she didn’t meet his eyes again.

Eventually, she spoke.

I left because I didn’t want to be used, she said.

Not by the court, not by you.

Not by whatever this power is, she paused.

And now I’m here using it anyway.

Thorne was quiet for a long moment.

I didn’t bring you back to use you, he said.

I brought you back because I had no other choice.

Ilwan gave a short, bitter laugh.

That doesn’t make it better.

I know.

She looked at him then.

Really looked.

The fire light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the exhaustion and the quiet determination that had always been there.

He looked like a man who had been fighting a losing battle for too long.

You could have come for me sooner, she said.

Before it got this bad, Thorne’s jaw tightened.

I thought I could fix it without dragging you back into this world.

I was wrong.

Eloan studied him.

There was no defensiveness in his voice, only a tired kind of acceptance.

It made it harder to hold on to her anger.

She turned her gaze back to the fire.

I don’t know if I can control it, she admitted quietly.

What happened today? It wasn’t me choosing to use that power.

It just happened.

Thorne nodded slowly.

That’s what I was afraid of.

Another silence stretched between them.

But this one felt different.

Less like a wall and more like a fragile bridge.

Neither of them was ready to cross yet.

Ilen eventually lay down on her bed roll, pulling her cloak over herself.

She didn’t expect to sleep, but exhaustion pulled at her anyway, just before her eyes closed.

She heard Thorne speak again.

So quietly, she almost thought she imagined it.

I’m sorry I made you come back.

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t turn away either.

Sometime deep in the night, Eloin woke to the sound of distant howls closer than they had been before.

She sat up slowly, her hand already reaching for her blade.

Thorne was already awake, standing at the edge of the camp with his sword drawn.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke.

They’re getting bolder.

Eloan stood and moved to stand beside him.

In the darkness beyond the dying fire, she could see shapes moving between the trees.

Wolves, but not normal ones.

Their movements were jerky, and their eyes glowed with that same sickly yellow light she had seen in the ruined town.

One of them stepped closer to the edge of the firelight.

It was larger than the others, its fur patchy and matted, it stared directly at Elelloin, and for a moment she felt something cold and ancient brush against her mind.

A low growl rumbled from its throat.

Thorne shifted slightly in front of her, sword raised.

But before he could move, Eloan stepped forward.

The wolf’s eyes locked onto hers.

Something inside her chest responded not with fear, but with recognition.

The same silver warmth from earlier stirred beneath her skin, though this time it didn’t burst out.

It simply waited.

Elo stared at the corrupted wolf and spoke without thinking.

Enough.

The word came out quiet, but it carried weight.

The wolf flinched.

For a brief second, the sickly glow in its eyes flickered.

Then it turned and disappeared back into the trees, followed by the rest of the pack.

The forest fell silent again.

Eloan stood there, breathing hard, her heart pounding.

She could still feel the echo of that strange connection lingering in her chest.

Thorne lowered his sword slowly and looked at her.

What did you do? he asked.

Eloan shook her head.

She didn’t have an answer, but deep down she knew.

The power inside her was waking up, and it was starting to recognize the curse.

They broke camp before dawn.

The howls from the night before still echoed in Eloin’s mind as they rode.

She hadn’t slept much after the corrupted wolves appeared.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel that strange ancient presence pressing against her thoughts, not hostile, but hungry.

It had recognized something in her, and she had recognized it in return.

The thought made her stomach turn.

Thorne rode slightly ahead of her now, his posture tense.

He hadn’t said much since they left the campsite, but she could feel him watching her more often than before, not with suspicion.

With something closer to concern, Eloin hated how much she noticed it.

By midday, the landscape had changed again.

The trees grew sparse, and the ground became rocky and uneven.

In the distance, she could see the faint outline of the capital’s outer walls.

They were still far, but closer than she had been in 3 years.

The sight of them made something cold settle in her chest.

They stopped near a narrow river to rest the horses.

Eloan dismounted and walked to the water’s edge, crouching down to refill her water skin.

The cold water bit at her fingers.

She stayed there longer than necessary, staring at her reflection in the dark surface.

She looked tired, older.

The girl who had once stood in the great hall, hoping for a future no longer existed in that reflection.

Thorne approached quietly and stopped a few steps behind her.

You’ve been quiet all morning, he said.

Eloin didn’t turn around.

I have a lot to think about.

He was silent for a moment.

Then he spoke again, his voice lower last night when those wolves came.

What happened between you and them? Eloan stared at the water.

She could still feel the echo of that connection under her skin.

It hadn’t hurt, but it had felt intimate in a way that disturbed her.

I don’t know, she answered honestly.

It was like they could sense something in me.

And for a second, I could sense them, too.

Thorne was quiet for a long time.

That power you used yesterday, he said carefully.

It’s not just healing or protection, is it? Elo finally stood and turned to face him.

Her expression was guarded.

No, she admitted.

I don’t think it is, Thorne studied her face.

There was no fear in his eyes, but there was something else, a quiet, heavy understanding.

The old texts mentioned that the Voss bloodline carried more than one gift, he said.

Most of them were lost after the last blood moon war, but some records spoke of the ability to command corrupted wolves, to speak to the curse itself.

Eloan felt a chill run down her spine.

You think that’s what I did? I think it’s possible.

She looked away out toward the distant walls of the capital.

The thought of having that kind of power, the ability to reach into something as twisted and violent as the curse made her feel sick.

I didn’t ask for this, she said quietly.

I know.

Thorne took a step closer, but stopped when she tensed.

I’m not going to ask you to use it if you don’t want to, he said.

But if the curse keeps spreading the way it has been, we may not have a choice.

Eloin met his gaze.

There was no demand in his voice, only grim honesty.

It made it harder to stay angry at him.

She looked down at her hands.

Every time I use it, It feels like something inside me wakes up a little more, she said.

I’m afraid that if I keep doing it, I won’t be able to put it back to sleep.

Thorne didn’t try to reassure her with empty words.

He simply nodded, accepting her fear as valid.

We’ll find another way if we can, he said.

But I won’t lie to you.

The kingdom is running out of time.

Eloan was quiet for a long moment.

Then she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.

I left because I wanted to live for myself, not for a kingdom that threw me away.

She looked up at him.

And now I’m walking straight back into it.

Thorne held her gaze without flinching.

You don’t have to save it, he said.

But if you walk away now, you’ll have to live with what happens next.

Eloan felt the truth of his words settle over her like cold water.

She turned away and walked back to her horse.

Thorne didn’t follow immediately.

He stayed by the river for a few more moments, staring out at the distant capital with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

When he finally mounted his horse again, his voice was quiet.

We should reach the outer watchtowers by nightfall.

After that, things will get worse.

Eloan nodded once as they continued riding.

She kept her eyes forward, but her mind was far away.

Back in the small cabin in Black Hollow, back in the life she had built with her own hands.

She had known coming back would cost her something.

She just hadn’t expected it to start costing her so soon.

They reached the outer watchtowers just after nightfall.

The capital loomed in the distance, its walls lit by torches that flickered against the dark sky.

Even from here, Eloan could feel the wrongness in the air.

It pressed against her skin like a living thing, thick, restless, and hungry.

The howls that drifted from within the city were no longer distant.

They were close, too close.

Thorns slowed his horse as they approached the main gate.

The guards stationed there looked exhausted and weary.

When they recognized their king, they straightened immediately, though the relief in their eyes was short-lived.

One of them stepped forward.

Your Majesty, the inner districts have started to fall.

The curse reached the temple district two nights ago.

Thorne’s expression darkened, but he only gave a short nod.

Open the gates.

As they rode through the city, Eloan kept her hood low.

She could feel eyes on her, some fearful, some desperate.

The streets were quieter than she remembered.

Many windows were boarded up.

The few people still moving outside did so in groups.

Weapons in hand.

This was no longer the kingdom she had left 3 years ago.

They rode straight to the royal temple at the heart of the city.

The ancient stone structure stood tall and imposing, its silver moon emblem glowing faintly even in the darkness.

Thorne dismounted first and waited for Eloin to do the same.

She hesitated for a moment before getting off her horse.

Inside the temple, the air was colder.

Several priests and priestesses were gathered near the central altar, their faces pale with exhaustion.

When they saw Eloin, a ripple of unease moved through the group.

The high priestess stepped forward.

She was older than Eloin remembered, her silver hair tied back tightly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly when they landed on her.

So you brought her back, the woman said, her voice carefully neutral.

Thorne didn’t waste time.

She’s the only one who can stop this.

The high priestess studied Aloan for a long moment.

The blood moon ritual 3 years ago broke something.

We thought it was only her bond that shattered.

We were wrong.

It cracked the seal on something much older.

Eloan felt a chill run down her spine.

What is it? she asked.

The high priestess hesitated, then answered.

A fragment of the first curse, the one that created the first werewolves.

It was never meant to be fully released.

When your bond was severed under the blood moon, it created an opening.

Now it’s feeding on every broken bond in the kingdom.

Elo felt the weight of the words settle over her.

Thorne looked at her.

Can you stop it? Eloan didn’t answer right away.

She walked slowly toward the altar where an ancient silver basin sat filled with dark water.

As she approached, the water began to ripple on its own.

She stopped a few steps away.

I don’t know, she said honestly.

But I can try.

Thorne stepped closer to her.

His voice was low, meant only for her.

You don’t have to do this.

Elo looked at him.

In his eyes, she saw the same man who had stood in her cabin 3 days ago, tired, burdened, and carrying more guilt than he would ever fully admit.

She also saw something else.

Fear, not for himself.

For her, Eloin took a slow breath and turned back to the basin.

She removed her gloves and placed both hands on the cold silver rim.

The moment her skin touched the metal, the power inside her surged.

It was stronger than before.

Wild and ancient and furious.

Images flashed behind her eyes.

Wolves tearing into their own packs.

Children screaming, bonds shattering like glass.

She saw the curse for what it truly was.

Not just a sickness, but a wound that had been festering for centuries, waiting for the right moment to tear everything apart.

And she saw herself at the center of it.

The power wanted to be used.

It wanted to be free.

Elo gritted her teeth and pushed back against it.

She refused to let it consume her.

Instead, she tried to guide it to direct it toward the source of the corruption rather than letting it run wild.

Pain lanced through her skull.

Her knees nearly buckled.

Thorne moved instantly, catching her by the arm to steady her.

His grip was firm, but careful.

Eloen, don’t.

she gasped.

If you let go, I might lose it.

He didn’t let go.

Around them, the temple began to shake.

Cracks appeared in the ancient stone.

The silver moon emblem above the altar started glowing brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding.

Elo could feel the curse fighting back.

It recognized her blood, the same bloodline that had once helped seal it away.

It hated her for it.

She pushed harder.

Memories that weren’t hers flooded her mind.

The first werewolves, the original curse, the blood moon that had created their kind.

She saw the moment her own bond had been severed three years ago, and how that single act had cracked the old seal.

The power inside her roared.

With one final desperate push, Eloan directed everything she had into the basin.

A blinding silver light erupted from the altar.

The entire temple shook violently.

Several priests cried out and dropped to their knees.

The corrupted howls outside suddenly turned into screams of pain, not from the wolves, but from the curse itself.

Eloin felt something inside her tear.

She would have collapsed if Thorne hadn’t been holding her.

He pulled her against his chest, one arm wrapped tightly around her as the light continued to pour out of the altar.

Slowly, painfully, the shaking stopped.

The howls outside faded into silence.

Eloin’s legs gave out completely.

Thorne lowered her gently to the floor, never letting go.

His face was pale, his golden eyes filled with something raw and unguarded.

Helloan, he said, voice rough.

Stay with me.

She blinked slowly, her vision swimming.

The power had burned through her like wildfire.

She felt hollowed out, but also lighter.

as if something heavy had finally been lifted.

Around them, the priests were staring in stunned silence.

The silver moon emblem above the altar had cracked down the middle, but the light within it had dimmed to a soft, peaceful glow.

The curse was gone.

Elo let her head rest against Thorne’s chest.

She was too tired to fight it anymore.

I told you, she whispered.

I decide how far I go.

Thorne’s arms tightened around her.

You did, he said quietly.

And you went further than anyone had the right to ask.

She closed her eyes.

For the first time in 3 years, the hollow place in her chest didn’t feel quite so empty.

Thorn stayed on the cold temple floor with her, holding her like she might disappear if he let go.

Outside, the first rays of dawn were beginning to break over the capital.

The kingdom was still broken, but it was no longer dying.

Derechos de autor: La obsesión del alfa