Chapter 5: A Dangerous Game

—opened its mouth, its voice a low, haunting whisper that sent chills down Elara's spine. But the dream slipped away as quickly as it had come, her eyes fluttering open to the dim light of her room. She sat up, her heart racing, the pendant still warm against her skin. The glow had faded, but the memory of the white wolf lingered, its glowing eyes burned into her mind. What did it mean? She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of sleep, and got out of bed. She didn't have time to dwell on dreams—not when she had training to focus on.

The morning air was crisp as she made her way to the clearing, her muscles still sore from the day before but her steps a little lighter. She'd been training with Eldric for a week now, and she could feel herself getting stronger, even if it was just a little. Her staff felt more natural in her hands, her movements less clumsy. She wasn't a warrior yet, but she was starting to believe she could be. The Nightclaw wolves were already gathered when she arrived, their whispers quieter today, more curious than mocking. She caught a few of them nodding as she walked past, and it made her chest warm with a small, fragile hope.

Eldric was waiting for her, his silver-streaked hair tied back, a staff in his hand. "You're late," he said, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice. "Let's see if you can keep up today." Elara grinned, grabbing her staff, and they got to work. She blocked his first strike, her arms steady, and even managed to land a hit on his shoulder, earning a grunt of approval. "Not bad," he said, stepping back. "You're starting to feel your wolf, aren't you?"

Elara nodded, her breath coming in quick bursts. "A little," she said. "It's like… I can sense things better now. Like I know where you're going to strike before you do." Eldric's eyes lit up, a rare spark of excitement in them. "That's your instincts waking up," he said. "Keep listening to them. They'll save your life one day."

They kept going, Elara pushing herself harder, her focus sharp despite the ache in her muscles. But then a new figure appeared at the edge of the clearing, and her concentration faltered. He was tall, with dark hair like Darius's, but his eyes were a bright green, and his smile was all charm, not brood. Kieran, Darius's younger brother. She'd seen him around the fortress, always laughing with the other wolves, his easy confidence drawing them in. He was nothing like Darius, and yet there was something about him that made her wary.

Kieran sauntered over, his hands in his pockets, his grin wide. "Well, well," he said, his voice smooth as honey. "The rejected omega's making a name for herself. I had to see it with my own eyes." Elara lowered her staff, her cheeks flushing at his words. She didn't know if he was mocking her or not, but his tone didn't feel cruel—just… playful. "I'm just training," she said, her voice cautious. "Nothing special."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Kieran said, stopping a few feet away. He tilted his head, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. "You've got the whole pack talking, Elara. That's pretty special, if you ask me." He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the pendant that had slipped out from under her tunic during training. "And that's an interesting piece," he said, his voice lowering. "Mind if I take a look?"

Elara hesitated, her hand instinctively covering the pendant. It was hers, a piece of her mother, and she didn't like the idea of anyone touching it. But Kieran was already reaching out, his fingers brushing hers as he gently lifted the pendant from her hand. His touch sent a flicker of heat through her, a spark that made her breath catch, but it was nothing compared to the fire she felt when Darius was near. Kieran's hand lingered, his thumb grazing her skin, and he stood closer now, his scent—cedar and earth—filling her senses. "It's beautiful," he murmured, his voice soft, almost intimate. "Where'd you get it?"

Elara pulled her hand back, tucking the pendant under her tunic again. "It was my mother's," she said, her tone sharper than she meant it to be. She didn't like how close he was standing, how his charm felt like a mask for something else. Kieran didn't seem fazed, though. He just smiled, his eyes glinting with something she couldn't quite place. "I've seen something like this before," he said, his tone casual but his words heavy. "In the old pack records. There's a story about a luna with a pendant just like that—some say it held power."

Elara's heart skipped a beat, Eldric's story about the first luna flashing through her mind. Power? Her pendant? She wanted to ask more, but there was something in Kieran's voice that made her instincts flare—a hint of ambition, a hunger that set her on edge. "What kind of power?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Kieran shrugged, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Who knows? The records are old, half-forgotten. But if I were you, I'd be careful with that thing." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Some things are better left buried." His words sent a chill down her spine, and she took a step back, her grip tightening on her staff. She didn't trust him, not with that look in his eyes, but she was intrigued despite herself. What did he know about her pendant? And why did he care?

Before she could ask, a twig snapped in the trees nearby, and Elara's head whipped around, her senses on high alert. The Nightclaw wolves in the clearing had gone quiet, their whispers turning to murmurs of unease. "Rogues," one of them said, a tall male with a scar across his cheek. "They've been spotted closer to the border lately." Another wolf nodded, her voice tense. "Heard they attacked a scout last night. We need to be ready."

Elara's stomach twisted, the memory of that howl from the day before rushing back. Rogues were dangerous—everyone knew that. They didn't follow pack laws, didn't care who they hurt. She glanced at Eldric, who was already moving toward the trees, his staff in hand. "Stay here," he said to her, his tone firm. "I'll check it out." But Elara didn't want to stay behind. She wanted to know what was out there, wanted to prove she wasn't just a scared omega.

Kieran watched her, his smirk still in place, but there was a sharpness to it now, like he was testing her. "You're not thinking of going after him, are you?" he asked, his voice teasing but his eyes calculating. "That's brave. Or maybe just foolish." Elara's jaw tightened, her instincts screaming at her to be careful around him. He was charming, sure, but there was something dangerous about him, something that made her wolf growl low in her chest.

"I can handle myself," she said, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach. She turned to follow Eldric, her staff gripped tight, but Kieran's voice stopped her. "Be careful, Elara," he said, his tone softer now, almost sincere. "You're playing a dangerous game, staying here. Not everyone wants you to win." She looked back at him, his words echoing in her mind, and then—