Embers In The North

Huddled in pain, Reyna snuggled up in the heavy quilt with that familiar vetiver scent. Slowly, she became aware of the steady rhythm and vibrations of a moving runner.

Taking a few deep breaths, her eyes slowly fluttered open, adjusting to the surroundings. Memories flooded back—the Elders, Yggdrasil, and the blood-stained chamber. The pain, sharp as a million daggers, attacked her and she groaned. She recalled entering the conclave, the Elders leading her towards Yggdrasil—a vision so stunning it almost felt like a dream.

“Bloody gods,” she murmured under her breath.

Reyna shifted, feeling the lingering soreness in her muscles. Taking a moment to look around where she was, she instantly noticed the Maynord crest on the roof - this was one of Roth’s runners. Memories of the conclave flooded her mind again reminding her that the Elders had attempted to confine her until Aupheadia fell, to prevent her from mating with someone named Triston.

The runner slowed to a stop, and the ambient sounds outside grew quiet. She could tell she was with Magnus’ Fleet, but couldn’t figure out how that came to be. The door creaked open, and Bandos stepped in - his face lit up with surprise at her.

“Reyna, you’re awake.”

“Father!” Reyna gasped, the ache of her injuries momentarily forgotten. She sat up in disbelief. “You’re here? Is this real?”

“Reyna,” he began softly, “I heard about Seth Thorin coming after you and had to come. You are all I have left of your mother.”

Bandos entered the runner and shut the door behind him quietly. His large frame was so imposing that she wondered if it would bring down the runner beneath them if he moved too quickly. When his eyes settled on hers, they were full of gentle warmth. She was struck by an unusual tenderness in her father’s gaze and despite being drained from pain, managed a slight smile in return.

“What happened in the conclave?” he asked. “The Elders are gone, and Aupheadia is fading. Alpha Roth is rallying as many Fleets as he can get for war, and we’re headed back to Egranox to regroup.”

“What war?” she asked.

“He won’t say. Only that when this veil over the kingdom completely falls, all hell will break loose,” Bandos explained with a shrug.

“Where is he?” she wondered aloud.

Before she had finished her sentence, the door opened and Roth appeared. Seeing the relief in his eyes brought a smile to her face. Feeling flustered by her dishevelled appearance, she quickly ran her hands through her hair and tugged on the edges of her drab grey dress. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her: who swapped out of her Fang suit for this plain frock?

“You’re awake,” Roth said.

“I’ll be back,” Bandos grumbled and stepped out.

Almost immediately Roth stepped in, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Roth,” she acknowledged before gesturing to the unfamiliar attire. “What am I wearing?”

He smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. “I had to improvise. Your Fang suit was in tatters when you finally shifted, and I had to cover you up. Hope you don’t mind.”

She managed a small laugh, appreciating the effort. “Not at all. Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Always,” Roth replied. “You gave me quite a scare back there.”

She glanced around the runner. “Where are we headed?”

“Egranox,” he answered. “The kingdom is on the brink of war. We need to regroup and prepare for what comes next.”

Reyna shifted uneasily, not sure what was going on. “What happened in the conclave?”

Roth’s face was grim as he frowned, pausing for a few moments before answering. “To be honest, I should be asking you that,” he said quietly. “Gareth and Quinn are utterly clueless about that. All they remember is the Elders chanting something that forced all of you into your wolf form, and then they couldn’t see or hear anything until I came for them.”

As the runner rumbled on, carrying them forward towards her home, Reyna nodded, her mind still grappling with the fragments of memories from the conclave.

“I remember the Elders leading me to the chamber where Yggdrasil stood. There was blood, and the Elders seemed… desperate.” She paused, watching Roth’s interest grow as she spoke.

His gaze sharpened. “Desperate for what?”

“They spoke about the prophecy, the unravelling of Aupheadia. They wanted me to remain in that chamber until it all fell apart to prevent something far worse from happening.” She frowned, trying to make sense of it. “But after that… everything went dark. I couldn’t move, couldn’t see. It felt like an eternity until I heard your voice.”

Roth’s jaw tensed. “You didn’t kill the Elders?”

Reyna shook her head. “No, Roth. I didn’t kill them. It was like they wanted me to witness the end. And Yggdrasil… she transformed into a wolf, bloodied, with all four Elders slain around her roots. I don’t understand what they were trying to achieve, but all I did was witness their deaths before it struck me too.”

“What?” Roth asked, a mix of shock and confusion in his tone.

The runner continued its steady journey, the rhythm of its movement accompanying the heavy silence that settled between them.

“You’re saying they plotted their own deaths?” Roth finally asked with disbelief in his voice.

“It would appear so,” came her reply. “Yggdrasil transformed into her lupin form and killed the Elders.”

Roth’s gaze turned distant. “But why? What purpose could their deaths serve?”

“I wish I knew,” Reyna confessed. “There was a mention of preventing something worse. It was as if they believed that by orchestrating their own deaths, they could avert a greater catastrophe.”

“We need answers,” Roth sighed. “There’s no saving Aupheadia any more. Once the last of that dome descends, there will no longer be Aupheadia. We’ll be back in Kuntheas and back to that ancient blood-sucking fray.”

Reyna’s mouth hung agape as she spoke softly. “Kuntheas?” a recollection from her dream hovering on her mind.

She looked at Roth with an arched brow. It suddenly dawned on her that he knew intimate details about the wolves’ past. Now she wondered if Roth might be able to shed any light on their ancient ancestry.

He stared at her for a moment. “In the depths of the conclave is an ancient ritual that endows an Alpha with their authority as Alpha of Alphas. The gods provide us with the knowledge of our origins and how Aupheadia was created; in return for this we must dedicate our lives to maintaining its security, vowing never to reveal because to reveal this knowledge means death.”

“You’re not about to reveal it, are you?” she raised a questioning brow.

“No Man’s Land has now vanished along with the conclave, and there’s very little left of Aupheadia’s dome, Reyna. I doubt it matters any more.”

She shook her head. “You are still oath-bound to the gods, and I forbid you from revealing it if there’s any chance that you could die.”

Then he slid behind her and embraced her, breathing in her scent as he buried his face in her hair.

“Do not scare me like that again,” he whispered.

Reyna gulped, trying not to draw attention to the pain her body felt from his movement and the hug. Despite the discomfort, she welcomed it, enjoyed it, and needed it. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against him, revelling in the closeness.

“I wish that was up to me,” she murmured. “So there’s to be war?”

“I need you to focus on getting better and…”

“You’re not going to treat me like some useless female just because I got hurt. I feel better already,” she lied.

“You know better than to lie to me, mate,” he whispered into her ear and her eyes snapped open.

“What?” She tried to snap around to face him and her body reminded her of the pain she was in, and she clutched her lower left side with a groan.

“Feeling better already, huh?” Roth slipped away to sit in front of her. “The rule of hybrid choosing her mate is pointless when we both feel the mate bond. You belong to me, Reyna, and I was foolish to not accept that… accept you.”

As she listened, Reyna did the maths. With their kingdom crumbling, his harem served no purpose.

“Last I heard you don’t make it a habit to ask twice,” she snickered as she said it and had no idea why she made that foolish sound.

Roth smiled and kissed Reyna deeply. “It took almost losing you to put things in perspective, Reyna, and even though-”

The runner came to a stop, and they both looked toward the door. Had they arrived in Egranox? She had been too engrossed with Roth to notice.

“How long ago did we leave the conclave?” she asked.

A knock echoed on the runner’s door as Roth turned back to her. “Nearly a day. We just reached the Mithril Obelisk.” He opened the door, stepped out, and extended his hand to her.

Reyna rose, placing her hand in his as he assisted her out of the runner. Squinting as she stepped into the brightness, she was taken aback by the scorching sun. As her eyes adjusted, she looked around her surroundings. Frostcall had barely any snow left, except for what was melting beneath her feet. A sunny landscape with vibrant trees peeked through the crack in the sky, and the dome was now halfway gone.

“Nearly a day? I’ve been out for almost an entire day?” Reyna asked him.

Roth coughed, steadying her against him, and she winced as she realized she was in such an unflattering dress in front of what appeared to be half a dozen Fleets.

“Reyna,” Decker greeted as he and Seth joined her and Roth at the foot of the stairs leading into the citadel.

“Luna!” Tharja shouted, hurrying down the stairs. Then she dipped in a bow once she reached them. “Alpha, Warmasters.”

“What’s going on?” Reyna faced Tharja with a frown.

“She’ll take you in to have your wound tended,” Bandos answered. “Join us in the war room after.”

Reyna followed Tharja into the citadel, not particularly keen on arguing about having her wound treated. They walked through corridors in silence to her wing and her other Gammas and the citadel healers welcomed her into her living quarters.

Tharja gestured to one of the plush seats and said, “Please, take a moment, Luna. The healers will inspect your injuries.”

As Reyna eased onto the couch, her attention briefly snagged on pots brimming with potions and herbs. The room was filled with medicinal scents, but her gaze lingered on the horizon visible from her balcony. The intense heat felt strangely unsettling, almost suffocating, as she reclined for the healers to examine her wound.

“How do you feel?” Tharja asked, her gaze darting around with worry.

Reyna winced while adjusting. “Sore, but I’ll manage. And you lot, handling the heat well?”

“It’s like being in hell,” Nadine groaned, wiping her brow.

“I know the feeling. Ready a suit for me; I must join the others immediately after this,” Reyna murmured, observing the healers diligently tending to the three claw wounds on her stomach. Memories of the pristine white wolf that had slain the Elders so easily rushed to her mind and she closed her eyes to push it out of her mind.

“Does it hurt?” asked the bent-over healer.

“Does it matter? Apply the medicine,” Reyna replied with a groan, and the healer bowed, turning to her companion beside the steaming herbs.

“Luna, a bath awaits you,” Keena announced. “We need to cleanse your skin and wounds before the medicinal application.”

She didn’t oppose that, she needed an ice-cold bath. Rising, she strolled into her bedroom and continued into the bathroom. Shedding the dress, she eased into the dandelion-filled bath, exhaling with satisfaction as the chill enveloped her.

“The sensation is as good as I imagine Odin’s bosom to be.” Nadine laughed.

It was funny to hear Nadine laugh. Not because she had never heard her laugh before, but because the way she laughed was contagious.

“Do you want it colder, Luna?” Tharja asked.

Almost sneering, Reyna turned away from Tharja: she didn’t want to be called that. First, it was prime instead of her name, and now this?

“It’s hard to believe we’ve been serving a Luna for all these years and had no idea.” Tharja sat beside her alcove freestanding bathtub with a big smile on her face. “I am honoured to serve as your Gamma.”

“No, no,” Reyna said, sitting up. “We won’t make a fuss about this. I’m still the Prime, and you needn’t be so awestruck about me. I’m just a female like you.”

All three of her Gammas gasped, prompting a frustrated sigh from Reyna as she closed her eyes. Tharja, rising, circled the tub and positioned herself at its head—so much for a peaceful soak.

“I do not know what fumes you have been inhaling, but you are not just a female like us. You are Reyna Moltenroar, the daughter of the fearsome Raging Beast of The North. As your Gamma, I must say the gods made a wise choice with you. You are a Luna, and that’s the greatest blessing a female could receive from the gods.”

Reyna, after a hard swallow, nodded in acknowledgement. She lacked the strength to engage in a debate about the gods, especially considering what had transpired in the conclave. In silence, Keena and Nadine attended to her, washing her and being cautious around her wound. The ache persisted, and she suspected it was due to the identity of her assailant.

They helped Reyna out of the tub, patted her dry, and then helped her into a purple bathrobe. Reyna rejoined the healers in the living room. Settling back on the couch, she relaxed as they applied the boiled herbs to her wounds. Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut against the stinging sensation. One of her Gammas towelled her hair dry while she endured the discomfort.

Once the healers securely wrapped the bandage around her wounded belly, Reyna stood up to find Tharja, holding up an intriguing black dress. It wasn’t the typical attire she was accustomed to, having spent most days clad in the utilitarian comfort of a Fang suit. But with the fresh wound, the practicality of opting for something less restrictive made more sense so she nodded her approval.

As they helped her slip into the dress, Reyna explored the fabric between her fingers. The material, a deep black that seemed to absorb rather than reflect light, clung to her in a way that felt foreign yet oddly liberating.

Tharja and her Gammas delicately laced up the back, the fabric conforming to the contours of her body.

Keena then assisted her into a pair of sturdy fighting boots. The familiar weight and sturdiness of the boots, worn and weathered from countless battles, provided a comforting contrast to the unusual elegance of the dress. It made Reyna smile; her Gammas knew her too well.

“Sit, Luna, so we can plait your hair,” Tharja instructed.

“Ugh,” Reyna grumbled as she complied. “Hurry this up.”

Tharja and Keena sectioned off her hair and deftly wove intricate plaits into it. Reyna couldn’t help but appreciate the care and attention her Gammas were investing in every detail, from the dress to her hair. In truth, she was starting to think she didn’t tell them thank you enough.

“There,” Tharja announced, finishing the last plait. “You’re ready, Luna.”

“Remarkable,” Keena added with a big smile. “A true Luna.”

Nadine stepped back, her gaze assessing the overall effect. “You look magnificent, Luna. We’ll escort you to the war room.”

“Thank you. All of you.” Reyna huffed. “But I have no need to visit the war room. Tharja, let my father know I’ll be there soon. I need to do something.”

They bowed to her and she walked out of her chambers, heading towards the spiral stairs to the far back. She needed to see the cave behind the Hare Thicket.