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Tristan

T he storm clung to the mountain like it had a warning to deliver.

Wind howled through the narrow spires of Stormvale, sharp and biting, curling around the stone towers like claws.

The air was thick with the scent of snow and lightning—wild, electric, ancient.

From the overlook, the peaks rose jagged and untamed, silhouetted against a violet sky.

My home. My birthright. And lately, a kingdom on the verge of fracture.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door to Morrigan’s chamber deep in the heart of the mountain, the scent of sage and ironroot thick in the air.

Candles flickered along the stone walls, casting shadows that danced across the runes etched into the floor like scars.

She stood at the center of the circle, unmoving, her long silver hair whipping around her like it had a life of its own.

“You called for me,” I said, voice low. Controlled.

Morrigan opened her eyes, irises pale silver and unfocused. “Stormvale is shifting. The old threads fray. A threat is coming.”

My body tensed. “From where?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Her fingers dipped into the fire and came away clean. “It’s not just from where. It’s who . Someone who carries the weight of false crowns and broken oaths.”

Alaric.

The name surfaced in my mind like rot beneath still water. I still remembered the look in the Silver Ridge alpha’s eyes the last time we stood across from each other—cold, gleaming like stone. He wanted the mountain’s power, and he’d gut us all to take it. “Silver Ridge,” I said.

Morrigan’s gaze flicked to me then, sharp. “You assume much.”

“He’s tried to claim what isn’t his before. He’ll try again. He always does.”

Her silence wasn’t confirmation, but it didn’t need to be.

The celestial stones, buried deep in the heart of Stormvale, had always been the target.

My pack’s legacy, our strength, came from the mountain’s bond with those stones.

We drew our magic from this land, from rituals older than any bloodline.

If Alaric wanted to weaken us, he’d come for the source.

“Tell me what you saw,” I demanded.

Morrigan tilted her head, the flames behind her flaring blue. “The mountain groans beneath stolen crowns. Blood seeks blood. But one flame cannot be claimed—it must choose.”

I clenched my jaw. She never gave straight answers—only riddles stitched together with smoke and half-truths. But I knew what I heard.

The mountain was in danger. My pack was in danger.

“And that’s not all,” Morrigan said softly. Her tone shifted, strange and distant, like she wasn’t quite in her own body. “The mate bond stirs.”

That froze me.

“What did you say?”

“I saw you,” she said, eyes unfocused. “You, and another. A light bound to your shadow. A flame that does not fear the dark.”

A chill scraped down my spine. I’d long since stopped hoping for that kind of connection. I’d buried that hope years ago, shoved it down beneath the bones of wolves I couldn’t save. Love wasn’t for alphas. Not for me. I didn’t have the luxury of longing.

“No,” I said, the word more a breath than a denial. “I have no mate. There’s no room for it.”

“You don’t have to want it for it to be true,” Morrigan murmured. “She is coming. Or you are going to her. The vision wasn’t clear.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice growing distant again. “But when you meet her, the world will tilt. The stones were not forged for wolves, but taken by them in a time of desperation…”

I turned away from the altar, the fire suddenly too hot against my skin.

The storm outside beat harder against the mountain, wind screaming through the peaks like it was trying to break the walls open.

I didn’t have time to chase riddles. Not when the threat was already moving.

Not when the mountain’s magic was shifting beneath our feet.

My jaw clenched. Two visions. Two warnings. One of blood and broken bonds. One of a mate fated by moonlight. And all I could see in their blurred edges was Alaric’s shadow creeping back over my mountain. Was it a trick? A curse? Or something worse—the truth?

If Alaric was coming for the stones again, I’d stop him before he reached the border. I couldn’t afford to wait for the mate Morrigan claimed was fated to appear. Not when I had a duty to defend everything Stormvale stood for.

I walked out into the cold, the air sharp with ice and magic. Stormvale pulsed beneath me, a warning in every breath of wind.

Let fate play its games.

I had a war to start.