Chapter 31

The morning after the battle dawned gray and somber, the sky heavy with clouds that hung low over the Highlands. The Midnight Crown fortress, usually bustling with activity, was cloaked in an unusual stillness. Warriors moved through the courtyard with muted voices, their steps slow and heavy. Though they had emerged victorious, the weight of the battle lingered in every corner, a reminder of what had been won—and what had been lost.

Lyra stood at the edge of the courtyard, her gaze fixed on the horizon. She couldn't shake the images that played over and over in her mind—the clash of steel, the cries of the wounded, and the faces of those who hadn't made it. The grief was a raw thing, sharp and unrelenting, but she couldn't let it consume her. There were still warriors who needed her, still wounds to heal.

Kaelen approached her from across the courtyard, his presence a steady anchor amidst the turmoil. His silver eyes carried a quiet sorrow, but also a resilience that reminded Lyra why he was the Alpha King. He stopped beside her, his hand brushing hers briefly in a gesture of comfort.

"The scouts report no signs of the enemy," he said, his voice low. "They're scattered and retreating."

Lyra nodded, though the news brought little solace. "What about our losses?"

Kaelen's jaw tightened, and his gaze fell to the ground. "Too many," he admitted. "But the pack stands strong because of you."

Lyra looked at him, her chest tightening at the gratitude in his voice. "It wasn't just me," she said quietly. "Everyone fought. Everyone sacrificed."

"And they'll never be forgotten," Kaelen replied. "But you gave them hope, Lyra. You gave them something to fight for."

The healing halls were filled with the wounded, warriors lying on cots as healers moved swiftly between them. Lyra stepped into the room, the scent of herbs and antiseptic filling her nose as she looked around. Her hands began to glow faintly as she knelt beside the first warrior she saw, a young woman whose leg was wrapped in bloodied bandages.

"Easy," Lyra said gently as the woman stirred, her eyes filled with pain. "I'm here to help."

The glow from Lyra's hands spread across the wound, the silver light weaving through the damaged flesh and knitting it back together. The woman let out a shaky breath, her tension easing as the pain subsided.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Lyra offered her a small smile before moving to the next cot. She worked tirelessly, her gift flowing from one warrior to the next, each touch a reminder of the strength she had found within herself. The other healers looked to her for guidance, their respect evident in the way they followed her lead. For the first time, Lyra felt like she truly belonged—not just as a healer, but as a leader.

The great hall was quiet as the pack gathered to honor their fallen. Candles flickered along the walls, their soft light casting shadows over the somber faces of those in attendance. Kaelen stood at the front of the room, his presence commanding yet humble as he addressed the pack.

"We fought for our home, for our future," he said, his voice steady. "And though we have won, our victory came at a cost. Today, we honor those who gave everything to protect what we hold dear. Their sacrifice will never be forgotten."

The pack bowed their heads as a chorus of howls rose from the warriors. The sound was mournful, a song of grief and remembrance that echoed through the fortress and into the night. Lyra felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Instead, she stood beside Kaelen, her hand brushing his in silent solidarity.

When the howls faded, Kaelen turned to her, his silver eyes filled with a quiet resolve. "We'll rebuild," he said. "Stronger than ever."

Lyra nodded, her heart heavy but determined. "For them," she said softly. "And for everyone who's still here."

That night, Lyra stood on the balcony of her quarters, the cool breeze ruffling her hair as she looked out over the darkened land. The scars of the battle were still fresh, but so was the strength of the pack. She had seen it in their eyes, in the way they had fought and supported each other. They were more than survivors—they were wolves who had reclaimed their future.

Kaelen joined her, his presence warm and grounding. He leaned against the railing, his gaze thoughtful as he looked out at the moonlit landscape.

"Do you ever wonder what comes next?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"All the time," Lyra admitted. "But I'm not afraid of it anymore."

Kaelen looked at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Neither am I."