Chapter 6 The north stirs

Looking into his eyes, “you speak of distance, as if it matters to the soul. My king,” Nyx murmured, she drifted closer, her transparent rope flowing behind her, like a smoke.

“Don't you feel the shift? The balance has tipped. The golden sun has bitten the moon, and the moon is weeping.”

“The ancestors have been restless for a thousand years,” Fenris countered, his hands tightening on the armrest of his throne. “They cry out at every shadow. Why is tonight any different?”

“Because tonight,” a third voice hummed a low melodious sound, which instantly calmed the raging heat in Fenris' veins. “The bridge is being built.”

Fenris turned his head to the corner of the room. The Silent King, the first of the ancients, sat on a bench of ice, his ghost form almost translucent. He was not looking at Fenris, he was looking at the huge door on the hall that led to the south.

“The girl in the snow”, the Silent King whispered. “She is no longer a child and she is no longer an omega. She has been broken, Fenris and on the account of that breaking, the frost has found its way in.”

Fenris stood up from his throne. “You are speaking in riddles. You want me to march into the south and start a war over a dream?”

“Not a dream,” Valerius roared. “A war. I can taste it, the girl… She is on the ground. They are laughing at her. They are pouring dirt on the silver wolf. If you will not go, give me your body. Let me take your flesh and I will paint the southern field red with their blood.”

“Enough,” Fenris voice cracked. Through the hall, and the temperature went down fifty degrees in a heartbeat, he held his head. The heat in his chest, fighting the cold in his surroundings.

“The heat, it is so much tonight, Nyx. Why is the heat so bad? Because your mate, the zenith, is in pain”, Nyx said softly, her ghostly hand reaching out to touch his cheeks. He could not feel her skin, but he felt a jolt of energy from her.

“The cold and the hot bond has been activated. She is freezing, Fenris. She is dying in the south and your soul is trying to reach across the world to warm her.”

Fenris let out a rough breath, his eyes turning orange. “Tell me where. Tell me what you see”.

Nyx closed her eyes, her form glowing brighter. “I see a hill… a lunar altar. I see a man with gold in his eyes, a fool who thinks he has won. And I see her, a girl with hair like the first snow, lying in the blood of a severed bond.”

“She is... She survived the severance,” Fenris asked, genuine shock crossing his face. “No one survived a forced severance. Their wolf dies. They become husk. How?”

“Her wolf did not die,” the silent king said, his voice low and in awe. “Her wolf went to sleep, and in its place, something else woke up.”

Fenris walked towards the great window of the citadel, looking over his kingdom. The dead lands was a wasteland of white, but under the snow was the bone of a civilization that had once ruled the world.

“She is the one,” Fenris whispered, the realization hitting him.

“Then move,” Valerius hissed. “The enforcers will be coming for her. The branding iron prepared for her. Do you want your queen to be marked like a common criminal?”

“If I go now, I cannot stop the branding,” Fenris said, his voice going calm. “If I cross the border too early, the realms will unite against us before she is ready”.

“Then wait for the exile,” Nyx suggested, her form beginning to fade. “Let them throw her into the deadlands. Let them think they have thrown away the trash. We will be waiting in the storm”..

Fenris looked down at his hands. For the first time in three hundred years, they were not just hot, they were shaking.

“Prepare the frost guards”, Fenris commanded. He did not look back at them, but he knew they were kneeling.

“Prepare the healer, Nyx. Astraea, that's her name, isn't it?”

“Astraea,” the Silent King, confirmed. “The Star Maiden.”

“Tell the ancestors to stay silent for a while,” Fenris said, his eyes going to the direction of the southern sky.

“I need to hear the wind. I need to know the moment her feets touches my snow.”

As the ghosts faded away, Fenris stood alone in the cold, but for the first time, he did not feel the loneliness he usually felt. He felt a connection. It was thin, broken, and covered in dirt, but it was there.

A thousand miles away, the red hot iron was being removed from the fire. Fenris let out a low, predatory growl. “Touch her, Mark her. Every scar you give her will be a thousand lives taken from your back.”

#. #. #. #. #.

The dusty ground of the judgment square, felt like sandpaper against Astraea’s skin as she was dragged by Boyce men towards the wooden stage. Her heels dug into the dirt, a desperate attempt to refuse being dragged to the stage.

“I did not take it,” Astraea’s voice was a rough plea that broke the silence of the pack.

“Jaxon please, I have not left my shack since I ran from the hall. How could I have by passed the ward?”

They threw her upward onto the stage. She fell down hard, her hands scraping against the splintered wood. When she looked up, she was looking at the hem of Verena's gown.

Verena leaned down, slightly, hiding her face from the crowd with her hair. For a second, the mask of the grieving Luna fell. She smiled a slow, wicked smile that sent chills down Astraea’s body.

“Look at me,” Astraea gasped, pointing a finger at his sister. “She did it, Jaxon. She was the one who came to my shack. She is the only one with enough power to slip through the vault, wards unnoticed.”