By the time Elara finished helping the omegas, the sun had shifted behind the jagged peaks, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The mountain air had cooled, brushing against her skin with a quiet promise of winter. Her body was tired, her muscles trembling slightly from the unfamiliar exertion—but it was a good kind of tired. A grounding kind. The kind that made her feel alive.
The omegas—Ryn, the sandy-haired boy named Lio, and a girl named Brenna with dimples and a voice soft as snowfall—walked her back toward the main path. They talked more now, shy but open, as though helping her had broken a hidden barrier.
"Do you think Mirael will scold me?" Elara asked with a small laugh.
"Oh, she absolutely will," Brenna replied instantly, then clasped both hands over her mouth as if the words were treason. "I— I mean— not scold! Just… worry-talk."
Lio snorted. "Mirael scolds the Alpha all the time."
Elara blinked. "She… scolds Kael?"
Ryn leaned in, whispering, "Once, when he ignored a deep slice on his shoulder after a patrol, she grabbed him by the chin and said, 'Sit down or I'll stitch your mouth shut first.'"
Elara's eyes widened—and then, unexpectedly, she laughed. Really laughed. The omegas watched her with delighted expressions as if they'd just witnessed a rare celestial event.
When the laughter faded into soft breaths, Ryn tugged shyly on her sleeve.
"Um… Elara? Will you… will you walk with us again? Or—help?" She swallowed. "You're… really kind."
Elara felt her heart flutter painfully. Kind. As if she hadn't been treated like a caste below everyone for so long she'd forgotten the word could belong to her.
"I'd like that," she said quietly. "A lot."
Their smiles glowed like sunrise.
After they parted, Elara continued walking along the stone path, taking in the sweeping view of Blackridge territory. The village stretched outward in terraced layers, built along the mountain slope with sturdy homes, wide courtyards, training fields, and lookout towers perched like silent sentinels. Wolves moved with effortless coordination, each one slipping seamlessly into their role.
Silvercrest had once been like this—strong, united, hopeful.
Before fear twisted its roots.
Before Kieran Vale.
Before Roran's shadow grew teeth.
Elara took a slow breath.
I can learn here, she thought. I can heal here. Maybe I can even… find myself again.
Lyra hummed in agreement, but there was something else there. A spark. A recognition.
And you sense it too, her wolf murmured. This place is waking something inside us.
Elara wasn't ready to examine that—not yet.
As she rounded a corner, she found herself overlooking a training ring where young wolves practiced footwork drills. Their movements were precise, controlled, nothing like the messy sparring she had known in Silvercrest. A Blackridge instructor barked corrections, but without cruelty.
Elara watched them, fascinated. Could she learn this? Could she become someone strong, capable?
Then she remembered Kael's exhausted expression last night, the faint tremor in his hands, the way he'd looked at her like keeping her safe was the only thing holding him upright.
Her chest tightened.
Maybe… maybe she wanted to become stronger not only for herself.
But also… for him.
She pressed a hand against her heart, startled at the thought.
Before she could decipher her feelings, footsteps approached. Brenna jogged back toward her, panting slightly.
"Elara! Sorry, I forgot to say—" She smiled sheepishly. "The Alpha wanted the omegas to keep an eye on you while you walked. Not in a creepy way! Just… to make sure you didn't collapse or push too hard."
Elara blinked. "He said that?"
Brenna nodded, cheeks warming. "He's… very protective of you."
Elara's breath caught, her stomach twisting with something she couldn't name.
"Oh," she whispered.
Brenna gave a small, giddy grin. "We've never seen him like this."
Elara didn't know what to say. Her mind scattered like leaves in a storm.
But Brenna stepped closer, voice softer. "And… I think he'll be glad you're walking around again."
Elara swallowed hard. "I— I don't know what Kael feels. Or what I'm supposed to feel."
"That's okay," Brenna said gently. "Healing takes time."
Elara's eyes misted. She wiped them quickly.
"Thank you."
Brenna beamed, gave a shy bow, and hurried back toward the storage hall.
Elara remained still for a long moment, letting the mountain wind tug at her hair.
A part of her—small, fragile, trembling—wanted to know what Kael would think of her being up, walking, smiling.
Wanted to see his expression when he saw her next.
Wanted…
She pressed that thought down before it could bloom.
Instead, she turned back toward the healer's wing—just as a cold breeze rushed past, carrying the faintest trace of Kael's scent from the direction of the pack house.
He was coming.
And for the first time in a long, aching while…
Elara didn't feel fear.
She felt anticipation.
Warm, uncertain, and painfully real.