I sat in the den that had been cleaned until not a speck of dust remained, a bitter ache swelling in my chest.
Uncle Fenris and my mother had been born together under the same moon—twins blessed by the goddess. When I was barely two winters old, a territory ambush claimed both my parents in a single bloody night.
The bond between the siblings had always run deep. Uncle Fenris could never bring himself to abandon this small hideout-den. He came often to tend it himself, running his claws gently over the worn furniture, breathing in the fading traces of her scent. He told me once that her shadow still lingered here, caught in the walls like moonlight trapped in amber.
For my sake, Uncle Fenris never took a mate. He raised me as both father and mother, his massive presence a constant shield against a world that had already taken so much from me.
He had loved me so fiercely. Why would he leave everything to a stranger?
I refused to accept it. Again and again, I watched the Moon-witness recording of the blood-oath will, certain something was wrong. Something missing.
My hand froze. My pupils contracted sharply.
I knew what it was. The recording lacked Elder Eamon—the witness who should have been present.
Elder Eamon was the most respected member of my mother's bloodline, a wolf whose word carried the weight of ancient law. Uncle Fenris had been clear: only with Elder Eamon present to witness the oath would the succession be valid.
I scrambled to find the recording of Uncle Fenris's first blood-oath will—the one that named me as heir. Elder Eamon stood right there in the image, his silver-streaked fur unmistakable.
Excitement surged through me. I leaped to my feet, already burning to expose Alaric Ravenhart for what he truly was.
I raced back to the estate and forced my way through the outer wards. I had barely crossed the threshold when Garrick Frostmane, the old den-steward, stepped into my path.
"Young master, this territory no longer belongs to you. If you continue to cause disruption, I will summon the pack enforcers."
The coldness in his voice cut deep. This was the same wolf who had once brought me warm healer's broth on winter nights, who had fussed over whether I was eating enough. Now he looked at me like I was a trespasser.
I swallowed the hurt and forced my voice steady. "I need to speak with Alaric Ravenhart. Let me pass."
"The master has already retired for the night. Return tomorrow."
I glanced at the position of the moon—barely past its first quarter rise. The night was young. Most wolves my age would just be beginning their evening hunts. Yet he had already gone to rest?
His habits were exactly like Uncle Fenris's. The same elder's schedule in a young wolf's body.
I stood vigil at the gates through the long cold hours. When dawn light finally crept across the snow, Alaric Ravenhart emerged in Uncle Fenris's personal transport—the sleek, rune-marked carriage that had always carried my uncle to council meetings.
I stepped directly into his path.
"Alaric Ravenhart. I can prove you are not the lawful successor. Come with me to see Elder Eamon—now."
Alaric regarded me with an expression caught somewhere between amusement and something else I couldn't name. To my surprise, he nodded without argument.
"Very well. I'm curious to see what proof you think you have."
We traveled to Elder Eamon's den. The moment we arrived, I couldn't contain myself.
"Elder Eamon, do you know that Uncle Fenris left his entire territory to this wolf?" I pointed at Alaric, my voice rising. "The blood-oath recording doesn't show you present. Tell me the truth—it's forged, isn't it? He coerced Uncle Fenris into this. That has to be what happened!"
Elder Eamon stared at me with undisguised bewilderment.
"I know about it, pup. Your uncle told me everything himself." He shifted his weight, and I noticed for the first time the healing wrappings around his leg. "I was supposed to attend the ceremony as witness, but there was an ambush on the territory road. My leg was shattered. Before the healers put me under for the bone-setting, I recorded a Moon-witness statement confirming the change. Did they not show it to you?"
I stood frozen, staring at the bandages.
Elder Eamon retrieved the recording. It was brief—just a few sentences—but his voice was clear and his words left no room for doubt. The revised blood-oath will was genuine.
My mind went blank.
My gaze darted between Elder Eamon and Alaric, desperate for something that made sense.
Had Elder Eamon been bought? Had this stranger somehow corrupted even him?
The accusation spilled from my lips before I could stop it: "Elder Eamon, did he pay you off? What did he offer you? How can you betray Uncle Fenris like this? How can you dishonor my dead parents?"
The elder's expression hardened. The warmth drained from his voice entirely.
"Kael, what madness are you speaking? This is the first time I have ever met this young wolf. I am old—what use would I have for bribes or territory? Everything was done according to your uncle's own wishes!"
"No!" I snarled. "Uncle Fenris would never abandon me!"
I spun around and seized Alaric by the collar of his coat, my claws threatening to extend. I glared into his face with all the fury I possessed.
"Who are you? Why would Uncle Fenris willingly give you everything? Tell me—what hold do you have over a dying wolf? What threat could possibly force him to name you his heir?"
