Chapter 17 : The First Strike

Chapter 17: The First Strike

The storm finally broke three nights later.

For days, Elara barely slept. She stayed at the edge of the village, eyes fixed on the shifting trees, listening to sounds no one else could hear. The Order circled them like wolves around weakened prey. They tested the boundaries and waited for the perfect moment.

And then they found it.

The first scream came from the eastern ridge, just before dawn.

Elara was on her feet before the second cry split the air. Aldric grabbed his sword, shouting orders as Kaelen and Rue rushed outside, ready to defend.

"They're here!" Kaelen yelled.

The villagers scrambled to position themselves, grabbing makeshift weapons. They had prepared for this, but nothing could prepare them for the moment when shadows emerged from the dark.

Figures in green cloaks swept from the woods, moving like silent ghosts—fast and precise. They didn't come to slaughter; they came to take.

And Elara knew who they wanted.

She shifted before anyone could stop her.

Her transformation had always been smooth. Her bones bent, muscles stretched, and fur sprouted like threads of moonlight. The human disappeared. In her place stood the silver-gray wolf with burning golden eyes.

Not a monster.

A guardian.

Aldric stood beside her, sword drawn, as the first of the Order's warriors reached the clearing.

One of them—a woman—stepped forward. Her face was sharp, her voice cold as stone. "You cannot hide, Elara. You know why we're here."

Elara's lips curled into a snarl, but her human voice came through her wolf form, low and firm. "You will not take me."

The woman smiled, almost pitying. "You belong to us. You always have."

Aldric's voice cut through the air. "She belongs to no one."

And with that, the battle erupted.

The village roared with chaos.

The Order fought with precision, striking only those who stood between them and Elara. Their weapons were laced with silver—sharp enough to wound but not kill.

They didn't want bodies.

They wanted capture.

Aldric moved like a storm, his sword flashing with every swing. He cut down two men who lunged toward Elara, but more came, relentless.

Kaelen led the villagers in a desperate defense, but they were farmers and hunters—not soldiers.

Rue fell beside one of the children, shielding her from a blade. His arm slashed open. The girl screamed, but Rue only gritted his teeth, pulling her behind him.

Elara tore through the line of attackers, her claws flashing. Her wolf instincts surged—protect. Protect. Protect.

But even she could feel it—they were being overwhelmed. The Order wasn't there to win a war. They were there to steal her away.

In the chaos, Elara saw a hooded figure standing just beyond the fight—watching, calculating.

It was him. The one from before.

The leader.

She locked eyes with him for only a heartbeat, but it was enough.

He raised a single hand and gestured toward her.

Four men broke through the line, surrounding her with long silver-tipped staffs. They moved in perfect rhythm, tightening the circle.

She lunged at one, but the staff cracked against her ribs, sending a sharp wave of pain through her. The silver burned her skin, and for a moment, she stumbled.

"Elara!" Aldric shouted, but two more of the Order blocked his path.

The leader stepped forward, speaking almost gently. "You cannot fight what you are, child."

Elara's breath came hard, her muscles trembling. The silver was weakening her.

But her heart—her heart still burned.

"I *chose* who I am," she growled. "And I choose *him*—not you."

The leader sighed, as though disappointed. "Then you force our hand."

Just as one of the cloaked men lunged to strike her with the staff again, an arrow whistled through the air, hitting him in the shoulder.

The man dropped instantly, his weapon clattering to the ground.

Elara's eyes widened. From the treeline, dozens of figures emerged—villagers from nearby settlements, allies Aldric had quietly summoned over the past days. Hunters. Friends. People who owed him favors from his days as king.

They had arrived.

A roar of defiance echoed through the woods as reinforcements surged into battle.

For the first time, the Order stumbled.

Aldric reached Elara's side, gripping her shoulder. "We fight together."

They stood back-to-back, surrounded but unbroken, as the tide of battle shifted.

The Order's ranks faltered under the growing resistance. The villagers fought like people defending not just their homes, but each other. The reinforcements pressed forward with bows, blades, and fire—pushing the attackers back toward the forest.

The leader narrowed his eyes, his voice cold. "You've made your choice, wolf."

He turned and vanished into the trees, disappearing into the mist like smoke.

The rest of his men followed, retreating under the cover of the thick morning fog.

The clearing fell silent, except for the ragged breathing of the survivors.

The first assault had ended.

As the sun finally broke through the fog, Aldric turned to Elara, his chest heaving. Blood stained his tunic, but none of it was his.

"Elara," he whispered, cupping her face, still breathless. "Are you hurt?"

Her form slowly shifted back into her human self, though her body trembled as the last threads of fur faded. "I'm alright."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

She buried her face in his shoulder. "They're not done. This was only the first wave."

"I know."

"They'll come again, stronger."

"Then so will we," Aldric said softly but firmly. "We are not alone."

Her voice broke. "I'm tired of running."

"You're not running anymore. You have me. You have all of us."

She clung to him tighter, as if she could absorb his steadiness, his strength.

For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could fight for this life. For them.

That night, the village gathered around the great fire in the square.

Despite the injuries and exhaustion, there was a quiet sense of victory among them. They had survived. They had stood together.

Elara sat beside Aldric, watching as Kaelen patched Rue's wound. Children clung to their parents, but their eyes shone with fierce pride.

Aldric leaned close, whispering, "I sent word to old allies—ones beyond these woods. If the Order returns, they'll find more than villagers waiting."

Elara smiled faintly. "You think like a king, even when you say you're not one anymore."

His eyes softened. "I'm not a king. Not anymore."

He touched her cheek.

"But I will always be your protector."

Her throat tightened as emotion welled in her chest.

"I never thought I could have this," she whispered. "A home. A family."

"You do now."

The wind shifted gently through the trees. The stars blinked overhead.

And for the first time in her life, Elara realized something:

She wasn't afraid of the future anymore.

Not as long as they stood together.

But deep within the forest, the Order was already preparing for the next move. This was far from over.

The real war had only just begun.