Chapter 7 - Into the Frost and Fire
The blizzard howling outside the Thorn Citadel matched the howling storm inside Caelan’s chest.
For three days and three nights, the Alpha King had torn through the northern provinces like a demonic force of nature. He had placed the citadel under martial law, stripped Lord Morgran and the conspiring high council members of their titles, and locked them in the deepest dungeons. Every guard, tracker, and scout had been dispatched into the freezing wilderness to find Sirsha.
Yet, there was no trace of her. It was as if the snow had swallowed her whole.
Deep within the freezing ravines outside the outer perimeter, far from the warmth of the royal hearths, Sirsha trudged through knee-deep snow. Her thin cloak offered little protection against the biting sub-zero winds. Her fingers were blue and numb, her energy completely exhausted.
She had fled the citadel not out of cowardice, but because she refused to let her existence spark a civil war that would destroy thousands of innocent lives.
Let them have their peace, she thought, her legs growing heavier with every step as she leaned against a jagged pine tree. A broken wolf belongs in the snow.
As her vision began to blur at the edges and the numbing cold seeped into her bones, a familiar, terrifying sound echoed through the canyon.
Snarls. Low, hungry, and close.
From the snowy treeline, three massive, rogue winter-wolves—exiles driven mad by starvation—stepped out of the shadows. Their yellow eyes locked onto her, saliva dripping from their bloodstained jaws. They recognized an isolated, unprotected omega immediately.
Sirsha backed away until her spine hit the freezing bark of the pine tree. She slid down into the snow, too exhausted to run, too weak to fight. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable end.
One of the rogue wolves lunged forward with a ferocious snarl, its razor-sharp fangs bared directly at her throat.
Suddenly, a streak of pure, lethal darkness tore through the blizzard.
CRASH!
A massive dire wolf—twice the size of the rogues, its fur the color of midnight storm clouds and its eyes glowing with unnatural, molten gold—slammed into mid-air, intercepting the attacker with bone-crushing force.
Caelan.
The snow exploded in a flurry of blood, fur, and terrifying snarls. In less than ten seconds, the two remaining rogue wolves realized they were facing an enraged Alpha King and bolted into the dark treeline with their tails between their legs. The third lay motionless in the crimson-stained snow.
The giant dire wolf shifted back into human form in a flurry of shifting muscle and bone.
Caelan dropped to his knees in the freezing snow, completely ignoring the bitter cold. He scooped Sirsha’s frail, ice-cold body into his massive arms, pulling her tight against his burning chest.
"I found you," Caelan breathed, his voice cracking with an emotion so raw and agonizing it broke something deep inside Sirsha's chest. "Gods above... I found you."
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Sirsha looked up into his storm-gray eyes, tears freezing on her eyelashes. She raised a numb, shaking hand and touched the jagged scar on his cheek, tracing the line with desperate tenderness.
Caelan caught her hand, pressing his warm lips against her palm. "You are never running away from me again, Sirsha. Do you hear me? You are my Luna. My soul. My everything."
