They came at dusk.
No war drums this time. No warning.
Just a stillness so deep it felt like the kingdom forgot how to breathe.
Vireya stood on the upper ramparts, Kael beside her, wind catching the edges of her cloak.
The field beyond the walls was empty.
Too empty.
The kind of quiet that always came before death.
Theoron's voice broke through the silence. "North wall. Movement."
Kael didn't move. Didn't blink.
Vireya watched the horizon shift—shadows folding over each other like smoke given form.
She heard it before she saw them.
Whispers.
Dozens of them.
No language. No structure.
Just sound.
Like voices echoing from a place without time.
And then?
The attackers surged forward.
Not wolves.
Not beasts.
These were worse.
Twisted remnants of what had once been pack—their eyes black, their jaws unhinged. Some moved on all fours, others half-shifted with bone pushing through flesh, limbs cracking at wrong angles.
Ashira growled inside her.
These are the failed. The broken ones that the veil kept hidden.
"Why are they attacking now?" Vireya asked, backing up.
Kael's voice was dark steel. "Because they think you're weak."
"They're wrong."
"I know."
But as she looked across the field, watching the way the earth split under those things' claws—she wasn't sure if belief would be enough.
The first wave hit the eastern gate.
Hard.
Stone buckled under impact.
A shriek went up from the lowest tower—someone was already dead.
Kael drew his blade without a word.
Vireya summoned what little magic pulsed beneath her ribs. No shape. No form. Just instinct and heat.
Iska's voice rang across the battle platform. "They've corrupted the ley lines! Our wards are glitching!"
Vireya turned to her. "Can you stop it?"
"Not unless you want me to tear open the rest of the veil right now and roll the dice."
"No thanks."
Theoron joined them, panting. "There's something worse. At the gate. Something—someone—is leading them."
Kael's head snapped toward the sound.
And Vireya?
She already knew.
She could feel it before she saw him.
That scent.
Of bourbon.
And gambling dens.
And cruelty.
Her stomach turned to ice.
Her father stood at the front of the enemy lines.
Not shifted. Not armed.
Just grinning.
He held up a scroll.
And tossed it to the ground.
It ignited on contact, sending up a burst of green flame.
The wards along the eastern wall died.
Like someone had flipped a switch.
Chaos erupted.
Kael roared. "Fall back! Defensive grid positions—protect the queen!"
"Do not call me that right now!" Vireya snapped—but she was already moving.
The creatures poured in like ants through a crack.
Blood hit the stone.
Kael tore through the first three with barely a glance. Drekken's rage surged inside him—fur prickling beneath skin, eyes gone silver-white.
"Vireya, stay close!"
She tried.
Gods, she tried.
But the battle was too fast. Too loud.
She lost sight of him three times—nearly took a blade to the ribs—but Ashira's instincts kept her alive.
Move left. Spin. Duck. Now.
She followed them blindly.
And then she saw it.
Kael—surrounded.
Five of the corrupted wolves had circled him, attacking in a tight formation like they knew his weak spots. His blade was red. His mouth bared.
But he wasn't fast enough.
Not this time.
One claw caught his side—ripping deep.
He staggered.
And Drekken screamed.
The shift hit Kael mid-step.
Bones cracked.
Clothes tore.
He exploded into his wolf form—massive, ink-black, with storm eyes that glowed like fury made flesh.
Drekken hit the ground and leapt—slamming into two of the beasts with enough force to crack stone.
Blood sprayed.
Limbs scattered.
But the last one—the biggest—ducked under his lunge.
And sank its teeth into his leg.
Drekken howled.
Kael stumbled.
And Vireya's vision went white.
Everything slowed.
Her 'father' stood at the edge of the battlefield, watching with that same smug smile he would smile when he got to trade her for something he wanted.
Power, raw and untamed, surged through the air.
And across the battlefield Kael collapsed.
Not just injured.
Bleeding out.
His body convulsed once, then stilled. The shift reversed painfully, bones snapping as his wolf was pulled back forced by the dark magic surging through the corrupted blade that had struck him.
His skin was slick with sweat and blood, lips parted like he couldn't breathe.
He wasn't healing.
The magic was blocking it.
Holding him hostage in his own flesh.
But even as his body trembled in defeat his eyes opened.
They weren't Kael's anymore.
Not fully.
They burned silver.
Drekken.
The wolf had taken over not to fight, but to shield him.
To keep Kael from feeling the searing, slow agony coursing through his nerves. To protect what was left of him. To keep him here.
And when those eyes found her—
Vireya broke.
Everything inside her screamed.
Power, raw and untamed, surged through the air.
And across the battlefield Kael's body twitched.
Drekken looked up his eyes locking onto hers.
And in that second, everything stopped.
Because he knew his mate wasn't helpless anymore.