Chapter 29 Through the Fog
The fog clung to us like a second skin, silver-gray against the bright light of morning. Even with the sun high above, its warmth never touched us. Each step felt heavier, each breath harder, as though the Codex itself had wrapped its will around the road.
Kael stumbled beside me, his weight sagging against my arm. Even weakened, he radiated heat, the sharp edges of his body brushing mine with every uneven step. His wounds hadn’t closed. The cut across his side bled sluggishly, poisoned by Hunter steel.
“You’re slowing us down,” Dorian muttered ahead, his tone sharper than the crunch of twigs beneath his boots. His eyes flicked back at us, lingering a heartbeat too long on where Kael leaned into me.
“I didn’t ask her to hold me,” Kael growled, his voice raw, strained. “She insisted.”
I tightened my grip on him before Dorian could answer. “Stop it, both of you. If we keep arguing, the Hunters will catch us before hunger does.”
Kael’s breath hitched—half pain, half laugh. “She’s fiercer than you give her credit for, Dorian.”
“Fierce doesn’t mean reckless,” Dorian snapped. He slowed until he was beside me, eyes narrowing at the blood staining Kael’s tunic. “You need rest. A few hours at least.”
“No.” Kael’s head jerked toward him, golden eyes blazing even through exhaustion. “If we stop, they’ll find us. You know that.”
His words cut the air, sharp and true. I swallowed hard, wishing the ache in my chest wasn’t split between worry for them both.
Silence pressed down for a few steps before Kael swayed again. His weight nearly dragged me down.
“Kael,” I hissed. “You can’t keep—”
“I can,” he bit out, but his voice cracked. His hand brushed mine, rough fingers lingering a second too long as though grounding himself. “I won’t fall. Not when you’re here.”
Something in my chest tightened, but before I could respond, Dorian stepped closer, slipping his hand under Kael’s other arm.
“Save your strength,” Dorian said coldly. “If she won’t let you collapse, then I’ll make sure she doesn’t break under your weight.”
Kael stiffened, but this time, he didn’t fight him.
I exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”
Dorian’s gaze softened briefly as it found mine. “Don’t thank me. Just… don’t carry him alone.”
The three of us moved like that for a while, broken, battered, but bound by something none of us wanted to name. My stomach cramped from hunger, my throat raw from thirst. Kael’s blood scent clung to the air, sharp, metallic, impossible to ignore.
“We need food,” I whispered at last. “Water, anything. We can’t keep this up.”
“There’s a stream east,” Dorian said, his voice more steady now, though weariness edged the words. “If the fog holds, the Hunters won’t track us that way.”
Kael shifted, his head dropping forward slightly. “Always the strategist. Always the safe path.” His lips curved into a faint, bloody smile. “Elara doesn’t need safety. She needs fire.”
Dorian’s jaw tightened. “What she needs is to live.”
Their voices struck sparks inside me. I stopped walking, forcing them both to halt. “Enough!”
The fog seemed to ripple around us, the Codex in my pack warming like it fed on my temper. I clenched my fists. “Do you think I don’t hear it every second? Your arguments, your claims, your—” My voice broke. “I can’t carry both your wars. Not anymore.”
Kael’s golden eyes softened for the first time, pain etched deeper than his wounds. “I don’t want you to carry me, Elara. I just… can’t let you go.”
“And I won’t chain you,” Dorian said firmly. His hand brushed mine, hesitant but sure. “Not with fate, not with blood. Only if you choose me.”
My heart twisted, torn clean in two. I opened my mouth to speak, but the fog around us shifted suddenly, thinning at the edges.
And there it was—beyond the mist, the valley stretched wide and green under the midday sun. Forests sprawling, fields shimmering in the heat, a cradle of life untouched by war. Moonvale.
I breathed out, dizzy with relief. “We made it…”
But then, the sound came. Low, long, echoing across the valley. A howl.
Not Bloodbound. Not Hunters. Something older. Something waiting.
Kael’s grip tightened on me. Dorian’s hand found the hilt of his blade. And I stood frozen between them, staring at the sunlit valley, my pulse thundering in my ears.
Moonvale was close. But safety? That was still uncertain.
The howl faded as quickly as it came, swallowed by the daylight and the rolling fog. But its echo lingered in my bones, ancient and wild, a sound that didn’t belong to Hunters or wolves I had ever known.
We froze, all three of us, listening. Waiting. Nothing followed—no rustle in the trees, no footsteps, no second call. Just silence, heavy and strange.
Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t Bloodbound. And it wasn’t one of mine either.” His hand remained tight on the hilt of his blade. “Kael… you’re an Alpha. Tell me you recognize it.”
Kael’s golden eyes flickered, unreadable, but his voice was rough. “Maybe. Or maybe I only want to believe I do.”
“Enough riddles,” Dorian snapped. “What was it?”
Kael finally met his gaze. “Every pack has its own guardian. Not flesh, not blood, but the echo of the ones who came before. A howl like that… it could be your ancestors, Dorian. Calling out from the valley. Watching us.”
The words settled like a weight in the air. I swallowed hard. “Then… are they welcoming us? Or warning us?”
Kael shook his head. “That, I don’t know. But if it is the Moonvale ancestors, they’ll judge us the moment we stand at their gates.”
Dorian’s jaw tightened, uncertainty flickering across his face for the first time since I’d known him. His gaze slid toward the valley below, where sunlight glimmered over the green expanse.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” he said, voice low. “Because there’s no turning back now.”
The fog shifted again, thinning just enough to reveal the faint outline of towering gates carved into stone at the far edge of the valley. Tall, ancient, and waiting.
And as we stepped closer, the Codex at my pack pulsed with a strange warmth, like it too was aware of the threshold ahead.
Whatever waited for us in Moonvale, it would not let us pass unnoticed.
