Snow whipped violently against the fortress walls as Aria and Ronan approached the gates. Torches flickered in the wind, casting long, trembling shadows across the stone. Wolves lined the ramparts — some in human form, others massive and furred — all tense, all watching the storm outside with unease.
The intruder had returned.
Aria's pulse quickened with every step. Her mark throbbed faintly beneath her sleeve, as if responding to some unseen pull. Ronan noticed; he didn't loosen his grip on her hand, didn't slow his stride.
"Stay next to me," he murmured. "No matter what happens."
She nodded even though her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest.
As they climbed the last set of stairs leading to the wall, Lyra and several council members were already gathered, whispering sharply among themselves. When they saw Aria, their eyes widened — with fear, curiosity, resentment.
Ronan ignored them all.
"Open the gate," he commanded.
"Alpha—" one of the elders began.
"Now."
The heavy iron bars groaned as they slid open. Snow blasted inward in a fierce wave, momentarily blinding everyone.
And then the stranger stepped through the blizzard.
Even through the storm, he looked untouched — tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair slicked with snow, golden eyes glowing faintly.
He stopped just past the gate, hands visible, posture calm.
Ronan growled low in his throat. "You're bold to come back."
The stranger's gaze drifted past him.
To Aria.
A jolt ran through her, sharp and unsettling. Her wrist pulsed hard.
Ronan immediately stepped in front of her, blocking the stranger's view.
"You will not look at her," Ronan snapped. "You will not speak to her unless I command it."
The stranger raised an eyebrow. "Protective, aren't we?"
Aria could feel the tension in Ronan's body through the bond — a swirl of anger, fear, possessiveness, and duty.
"State your purpose," Ronan growled. "And then leave."
The stranger's golden eyes glimmered with something unreadable.
"My purpose," he said calmly, "is to prevent a war."
Murmurs erupted among the wolves along the walls.
Ronan didn't flinch. "You walk into my territory, uninvited, make demands, and expect me to believe you?"
"If I wanted to harm you," the stranger replied evenly, "I would not have walked through your front gate."
Aria swallowed, mind racing.
The stranger turned his gaze on her again — Ronan visibly bristled — but this time, he spoke to Ronan.
"She is awakening faster than expected," he said. "The visions have begun, haven't they?"
Aria stiffened.
Ronan's growl was deep and dangerous. "That is not information you are entitled to."
The stranger's expression shifted — for the first time, something like concern.
Real concern.
"If she has seen the First Luna," he said softly, "then the prophecy is already in motion."
Aria's pulse hitched. "Prophecy?"
Ronan turned sharply. "Aria—"
"No," she whispered. "I deserve answers."
The stranger inclined his head. "Yes. You do. But you deserve them from someone who will not twist them."
Ronan moved so fast Aria barely saw him — one second he was beside her, the next his hand was around the stranger's throat, pinning him against the wall.
"Watch your words," Ronan growled. "You know nothing about me."
The stranger didn't struggle. Didn't even look afraid.
"If you kill me," he said calmly, "your Moonborn girl dies next."
A gasp rippled through the courtyard.
Ronan froze — not loosening his grip, but not tightening it either.
Aria felt panic surge through her bond with him.
"Ronan—stop," she whispered, stepping forward. "Let him speak."
Ronan's jaw clenched. For a moment, it looked like he might refuse. But then he growled under his breath and released the stranger.
The stranger rubbed his throat slightly. "Thank you."
"That wasn't for you," Ronan snapped. "It was for her."
Aria stepped fully into view now, facing the stranger — though Ronan hovered inches behind her, ready to shield her at the slightest threat.
"Why did you say that?" she asked quietly. "Why would harming you harm me?"
The stranger studied her, expression softer.
"Because your awakening is unstable," he said. "And because our bloodlines are connected."
"Connected how?" Ronan demanded.
The stranger didn't look away from Aria.
"We share the same origin," he said. "I am Moonborn — like her."
Ronan scoffed. "You expect me to believe a second Moonborn simply appeared out of thin air?"
"No," the stranger replied. "I expect you to understand that destiny brings Moonborn together when danger approaches."
Aria swallowed. "Danger like what?"
He turned toward the snow-covered mountains beyond the gate.
"Something ancient," he said quietly. "Something that once destroyed our kind. It has found your scent."
Ronan's expression darkened. "Give me a name."
"I don't know its true name," the stranger admitted. "But we call it the Devourer."
Fear slid down Aria's spine like ice.
Lyra stepped forward, her voice sharp. "You expect us to believe in childhood legends?"
The stranger's eyes snapped to her. "It is no legend. It is what wiped out the Moonborn line the first time."
Aria's heart pounded. "Why does it want me?"
"Because you are the first Moonborn with a full awakening mark since the First Luna," he said. "Your power threatens its existence."
The courtyard fell silent.
Ronan stepped closer to Aria, almost imperceptibly — but she felt it. His warmth. His protectiveness.
"You said our bloodlines are connected," Aria said softly. "What does that mean?"
The stranger hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"Moonborn are not born often," he said. "We appear only when the world is on the brink of collapse. Each generation has only one true heir."
Ronan stiffened. "But there are two of you."
The stranger nodded.
"Yes," he said. "And that means something unprecedented is happening."
Aria swallowed hard. "What exactly?"
He met her eyes.
"It means one of us is meant to rise."
Ronan's voice was low. "And the other?"
The stranger's face hardened.
"The other must fall."
Aria's breath left her body.
"No," she whispered. "That's not fair. I didn't choose any of this."
"I know," the stranger said gently. "Neither did I. But fate rarely cares for fairness."
Ronan stepped between them again, his presence towering.
"If you think I will let fate decide her death—"
"I don't want her to die," the stranger interrupted, surprising everyone. "If anything, I want her to survive. That's why I came."
Ronan didn't believe him. Aria wasn't sure she did either.
"What are you really here for?" she asked.
The stranger exhaled slowly. "To warn you. To help you. And to ask you one thing."
Ronan growled. "Ask her nothing."
But Aria stepped forward.
"What is it?"
The stranger's golden eyes softened.
"When the time comes," he said quietly, "do not run from who you are."
Aria's hand trembled.
"Do not fear your mark," he continued. "Do not fear your visions. And do not fear the power spreading in your veins."
Ronan tensed beside her.
"Because if you do," the stranger finished, "the Devourer will win."
Silence settled like snowfall.
Finally, Ronan spoke — voice cold and steady.
"You've delivered your warning. Now leave."
The stranger bowed his head — not to Ronan.
To Aria.
"I will return when she calls," he said.
Aria blinked. "I'm not calling you."
"For now," he replied softly. "But you will."
Ronan stepped in front of her. "Go. Before I make your death part of today's schedule."
The stranger smiled faintly.
"Be careful, Alpha King," he said. "Your protectiveness might turn into something fate cannot undo."
Ronan's growl echoed through the courtyard.
The stranger turned, walked into the storm, and vanished once again.
The gates slammed shut.
Aria stood frozen, heart pounding, the weight of destiny pressing down harder than ever.
Ronan turned to her, his expression fierce and troubled.
"Aria," he whispered, voice rough, "I won't let fate touch you."
But Aria wasn't sure fate cared.
And for the first time…
she wasn't sure she believed him.