Calla's POV
The massive iron gates parted slowly, grinding on their tracks. I stood still in the open doorway, five years of distance stretching out behind me.
"Goddess of war." The voice was rough, familiar, and stopped my breathing cold. Commander Corbin.
I turned slowly. He emerged from a command tent ahead of me, holding the Moonstone Vessel. Small. Polished. It carried my parents' ashes.
I gripped my hands at my sides. Tears stung my eyes but I forced them back. Ashmere warriors sacrificed many things. Emotions like this were one of them. We put it away.
"Commander Corbin." I bowed my head as he approached.
He watched me for a long moment. His face was hard. His jaw was set tight. He gave a firm nod.
"It's good to see you again, Callie." He blinked, slow and heavy. Then he extended the Vessel toward me.
I received it. It felt heavy in my arms, cool against my skin.
"I apologize for the delay," he continued. "The final fight to close the Portal was brutal. By the time we found their wolves, it was too late. No possessions survived the impact." He paused, his gaze fixed on my face. "If not for you, who led that charge, we would have all perished."
I let out a long breath. "Thank you, Commander. You did your best."
Relief flashed in his eyes, replaced quickly by a familiar sadness. "Callie. About your brother."
My heart stopped. My hands tightened on the Vessel.
"We couldn't find his body. Not his wolf either. He was not among the dead we recovered." He paused. "So maybe your instincts are right. Maybe he is still out there."
"He is." My voice was quiet but full of conviction.
Commander Corbin nodded, solemn and steady. His gaze shifted then, scanning the dark ground around us.
"Alpha Gladys didn't come with you?"
The question felt like a needle in my chest. I smiled, tight and artificial. "He is preparing for the Blackbridge Festival. There is a lot to plan."
"So much that he could not accompany you here. To meet your parents. To know your land." Corbin's eyes narrowed slightly.
I opened my mouth to defend Gladys, but the Commander sighed first.
"You are an adult, Callie. I trust your judgment. But remember this." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "If you ever wish to return to Arcadia Fortress, this gate will always remain open."
I almost laughed. Return? With what? To what? Maya was gone. My strength was gone. My battle days were finished. I had a new duty now. To live. Away from everything.
I stepped back and stood at attention. The gathered soldiers, standing under the moon, did the same. Commander Corbin followed. In unison, they bowed low. Not to me. To my fallen parents. The ones who had bled for the Empire.
Tears blurred my vision. I clutched the Moonstone Vessel to my chest and turned to leave.
I had them again. Even if only in ashes.
---
It rained hard on my return from Arcadia Fortress. I had refused Ethan's offer to escort me. I couldn't have him know what I was in my supposed home.
I rode to a Memorial hall I knew, open to any wolf regardless of pack or status. A funeral for fallen Ashmere is a sacred thing. Until the rite could be held, they would stay here. I placed the Moonstone Vessel in a sealed alcove.
My hair dripped. My clothes were damp. My cheeks stung from cold rain and tears mixed together. I knelt to pay my respects. When I rose, I whispered into the cold air.
"I promise. I will find Kellan. When I do, we will both return to honor you. Only then will a funeral be held."
I lingered over the Vessel. Then I locked the chamber and walked toward the exit. My heart felt like a stone inside my chest.
A draft slithered down the corridor and dragged my mind back five years.
A new portal had torn open. Demons poured out. Every warrior of Ashmere bloodline was summoned. My parents answered the call. My brother Kellan went with them.
Three weeks later, a stamped death scroll lay on my doorstep.
Warlord Alden gone. Commander Evelyn gone. Kellan missing.
My world shattered. But grief is a luxury an Ashmere cannot afford.
An imperial command arrived. One last assault to seal the portal. A new commander was needed. I took the mantle. I led the charge. By the Moon Goddess's grace, I won. The portal closed. But something inside me never reopened.
It was during that time, beneath a full moon, that I met my mate. Gladys AuraStorm. He wiped my tears. He made promises. The pain had clouded my vision. I decided to honor my parents' greatest wish: marriage. I hung up my armor. I stamped the retirement scroll. I left everything behind, even the home that had once held happiness.
I left for the Aura Pack. I backed Gladys's campaign to become Alpha.
Our relationship wasn't the best, but when demons showed up again, he leaned on me. They needed a foreign wolf blood to seal the portal. I refused. Maya refused too. But his people were dying and he became a shadow of himself, so I gave it. I let them take Maya.
And now the pack thrives.
Yet Gladys called me a rogue. He chose another woman over me.
The thought made the long hallway tilt. I sagged against the cool wall and slid to the floor.
It's time to quit. All of it.
I stared at the blank wall for a long time. Then, slowly, I pushed to my feet. A strange, new strength unfurled in my chest.
I took a step forward, then froze.
A hiss of wind slithered through the corridor. Deliberate. Wrong.
I crossed to the window and looked out over the Memorial courtyard. Luxury carriages clustered beneath black umbrellas. New mourners, wealthy and somber. Whose death could draw such opulence?
Then a midnight-black warhorse glided in, breath clouding in the storm. Power, ancient and ruthless, poured from the rider.
He dismounted. Black cloak. Storm-slick leather boots. Long charcoal hair knotted high, loose strands framing a face carved like a blade. Ancient runes coiled up his throat. Two silver rings through one brow caught the lamplight. A raven, pitch-black and sleek, sat on his right shoulder. A creature the entire empire spoke of only in hushed whispers.
Handsome was too simple a word. He was apex artistry. A weapon sculpted to walk.
I recognized him from rare sketches and whispered histories. Not fully wolf. Something older. No birth name known. The world called him Apex Blood. Heir to the Lycan throne.
Werewolves splintered into packs, ruled by Alphas. But Lycans bowed to one king. That king was infamous for his brutality. His heir, rumor claimed, was cursed — never leaving the obsidian castle and its black tower.
Yet here he was tonight.
His head lifted. Pale gold eyes locked on mine across the courtyard.