The stranger vanished into the storm as silently as he had arrived, but the tension he left behind spread through Frostfall like smoke from a fire.
Wolves whispered on the walls.
Council members muttered among themselves.
Even the air felt heavy—charged—as though the mountain itself sensed the shift.
Aria wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her breathing. Her mark pulsed faintly beneath her skin. Not painful. Not burning. Just… aware.
Ronan noticed instantly.
"Your wrist," he said, stepping close. "Is it hurting?"
"No," Aria whispered. "It just feels… awake."
Ronan's eyes darkened. "We'll need to monitor that. Closely."
Before Aria could respond, Lyra marched across the courtyard, flanked by several council members. The icy wind swirled around her like she commanded the storm itself.
"Alpha," Lyra said sharply, "we need a private meeting. At once."
Ronan didn't turn. "No."
Lyra stiffened. "This is not optional."
Ronan finally faced her, eyes cold. "I said no."
"The intruder," she pressed, "the prophecy… and the girl—"
Aria felt the sting immediately. Lyra didn't say her name. Just the girl.
Ronan's voice dropped dangerously. "Aria."
Lyra blinked. "What?"
"She has a name," he said. "Use it."
The council shifted uncomfortably.
Lyra's jaw tightened. "Very well. Aria."
Ronan turned slightly toward Aria, placing himself subtly between her and the pack's scrutiny.
Aria lowered her eyes. She hated being a source of tension. She hated Lyra's glare. She hated feeling like the entire fortress was waiting for her to break something.
Lyra crossed her arms. "The council demands to discuss what just happened. Twice now, an unidentified Moonborn has approached our gates. Twice now, he's spoken directly to her."
Aria flinched.
"It's dangerous," Lyra continued. "And we need answers. Now."
Ronan's expression didn't change. "We will have answers. When I decide it's time."
Lyra's eyes flashed. "Your judgment is clouded."
Ronan stepped closer, voice low. "Choose your next words very carefully."
But Lyra didn't back down.
"You have allowed a stranger into the most sacred halls of Frostfall," she said. "You've hidden critical information, kept the pack in the dark, ignored council protocol—"
Aria's chest tightened. This was all because of her.
"And why?" Lyra demanded. "Because fate threw a glowing mark at her wrist? Because she had a vision?"
Ronan's voice rose, sharp and sudden. "Because she is in danger."
Lyra scoffed. "We're all in danger, Ronan. Every wolf in Frostfall risks death if the prophecy is real. But you're acting like she's the only one who matters."
Aria's heart thudded painfully.
Ronan tensed, caught between fury and restraint.
Then Lyra said the words Aria had feared most:
"She is a liability."
Aria inhaled sharply.
Ronan's eyes went lethal. "Aria is under my protection. If anyone—ANYONE—threatens her, they answer to me."
Lyra didn't back down. "So it's true, then? You're letting the bond influence your decisions."
Aria froze.
Ronan froze.
The courtyard went dead silent.
"Lyra—" Ronan warned.
She pushed forward. "You think we can't feel it? Every wolf here sensed the shift the moment she arrived. The moment you touched her. Your emotions spike and crash with hers. That isn't leadership. That's weakness."
Ronan growled, the sound low and vibrating.
Aria felt the sting like a physical slap.
Weakness.
Liability.
Danger.
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, wishing she could disappear.
Ronan's voice rumbled. "Enough. Take your accusations to the council chamber. Not here."
Lyra's eyes flicked to Aria—no pity, just cold assessment.
"She needs to be controlled," Lyra said. "Locked down. Contained. Before she brings more danger through our gates."
Aria's stomach dropped.
Ronan stepped fully between them. "She will not be locked away."
"It isn't your choice alone," Lyra snapped. "The pack has a say."
"The pack answers to ME," Ronan roared.
Every wolf recoiled.
Aria felt the echo of his power ripple through the bond, stirring her own mark in a strange, warm ache.
Lyra's expression flickered with something hurt—but quickly buried beneath anger.
"Then prove your leadership," she said quietly. "And tell us what you plan to do with her."
Ronan turned to Aria, his eyes softening. For a moment, just a breath, he looked like a man weighing thousands of lives on his shoulders.
And Aria felt like she was the rope in a tug-of-war she never asked to join.
"We'll discuss this," Ronan said to the council, "after Aria rests."
His voice left no room for argument.
"She's had enough for one day."
"But—" Lyra started.
"I said—after," Ronan repeated.
The council fell silent.
Lyra stared at him, then at Aria, disbelief and anger clashing in her gaze.
Then she turned sharply and strode away.
The wolves dispersed slowly, whispering among themselves.
Left alone in the courtyard, Aria felt small. Heavy. Like gravity had doubled around her.
Ronan faced her immediately.
"Don't listen to them," he said gently. "They're reacting out of fear."
Aria hugged herself. "She's right, though. I am dangerous. I don't know how to control anything. I'm bringing strangers to your gate. I'm causing visions and prophecies—"
"Aria."
Ronan stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You are not the threat here. You are the target."
Her breath shook. "What's the difference?"
"A target needs protection," he said. "A threat needs containment. You are not the latter."
She wanted to believe him.
But the fortress.
The council.
Lyra.
The stranger.
The Devourer.
Everything pointed back to her.
Ronan gently lifted her chin. "Look at me."
She did.
"I don't fear you," he said. "I fear losing you."
Her breath faltered.
"That vision didn't appear to you for no reason. You were meant to see it. And you were meant to survive it."
She blinked fast. "Ronan—I don't even know if I can survive my own mark."
"You will," he said. "Because I will make sure of it."
His voice sounded like a vow.
A promise.
A threat against the universe itself.
Aria's heart twisted, the bond humming faintly beneath her skin.
"Now," Ronan said softly, "come with me. You need rest."
"But the council—"
"They can wait."
"And Lyra—"
"Will get over it."
"And the stranger—"
Ronan's expression darkened. "Will not come near you without going through me again."
Aria swallowed. "What if he tells the Devourer where I am?"
Ronan shook his head. "If the Devourer is awake, it already knows."
Her eyes widened.
"But that doesn't mean it can reach you," Ronan said quickly. "Not here. Not while I live."
Aria shivered.
He touched her wrist lightly—just a brush of his fingers.
The mark warmed under his touch, glowing faintly.
"Your awakening is accelerating," he said. "The visions, the pulses, the stranger—all signs you're approaching the second phase."
Aria paled. "How many phases are there?"
Ronan hesitated, then answered softly:
"Three."
"And the final one?" she whispered.
He met her gaze.
"The moment the Moonborn part of you fully awakens… and the bond seals."
"And then… I become your mate."
Ronan's throat worked, tension flickering across his face.
"Yes."
Silence hung between them, heavy and charged.
Finally, he cleared his throat. "Let's get you inside. Before the council decides to rebel entirely."
Aria nodded weakly and let him lead her away.
But as they walked back into the fortress, her mark pulsed again.
Not in warning.
In recognition.
Something old and powerful was awakening inside her.
And the world was already reacting.