Chapter 7: Echoes of a bond

The torches lining the corridor hissed as Damien stormed away from the council chamber, his long coat trailing behind him like wings of smoke. The air thickened with each step he took, his aura bleeding through the cracks in his control filling the ancient halls with the weight of his fury.

Behind him, the echoes of the council's betrayal rang louder than any howl.

"The girl of silver flame," they had said.

"Freya."

That cursed name.

Pulled from the broken lips of a dying seer. Spoken like a prophecy. Revered like salvation.

And yet, no one could find her. She was nowhere. And yet she was everywhere. In the shadows. In the cold. In the silence that stretched between his sleepless nights. A whisper, a thread that refused to sever.

His bond.

Damien reached his private wing and slammed open the doors. The dark wood groaned in protest, splinters fracturing near the hinges. The sheer force cracked the iron bar holding them evidence of the power he could barely hold back.

Inside, the chamber greeted him in silence. The hearth fire crackled in the corner, casting orange glow against cold stone walls. Relics of war hung like trophies, swords, fangs, clawed medallions. The crest of the Blackthorn line glared down from above, an ever-present ghost of the legacy he wore like a curse.

He paced.

Like a caged beast.

His breath came in sharp bursts, chest rising and falling as he tried to suppress the rising tide of rage and something darker grief.

His fingers twitched.

His claws ached.

"Guards!" His voice roared like a breaking storm.

Three wolves scrambled within seconds, dropping to one knee the moment they crossed the threshold, heads bowed in submission.

"You've had weeks," Damien said, low and trembling with restraint. "And yet you still come to me with empty hands. No scent. No trail. Not even a rumor."

The lead wolf, a tall, broad-shouldered enforcer, lifted his head slightly. "We believe she's being shielded, Alpha. Magic... perhaps from the Moonstone witches. There's no other explanation—"

He didn't get to finish.

Damien blurred.

A sharp crack split the air as the Alpha's hand collided with the side of the wolf's face, sending him crashing into the stone wall. Blood smeared the floor in an arc.

The others didn't flinch. But he saw the slight tremble in their shoulders, smelled the spike in their fear.

"You think I care for excuses?" Damien's voice was quiet now. Deadly. "She's a girl. A wolf with no rank. No power. And you, a soldiers of my pack—can't find one single breath of her?"

He seized the second guard by the throat and slammed him hard against the wall. The impact sent a tremor through the stone. The wolf gasped, feet dangling off the floor.

"I smell her in my sleep," Damien hissed, his voice close to a snarl, his silver eyes burning. "I feel her fear. Her silence. She's alive. And I will not be made a fool by fate."

The third guard stepped back instinctively, but Damien didn't move. His claws dug deeper into the struggling wolf's throat.

"I will burn down every sanctuary," he growled. "Rip open every forest. Turn the Outer Packs to ash. I will gut the Crescent witches. I will drown the moon temples in blood if I have to."

The wolf in his grasp started to turn purple.

And then—

The door slammed open again.

"Alpha!"

Elias's voice rang like a blade striking steel.

Damien didn't turn. His hand stayed around the wolf's throat, his breathing ragged. His eyes shimmered with something more dangerous than anger.

"She's mine," he said, voice low. "And they've let her vanish."

Elias moved carefully, his expression a mask of calm, though Damien could sense the tension beneath it. "Let him go."

"She was given to me," Damien whispered. "Marked. Claimed by the Moon Goddess herself. And yet she hides. She rejects what's written in the stars."

"She is not your leash," Elias said gently, stepping closer. "She is your mirror."

Damien's claws trembled.

He exhaled harshly and released the guard. The wolf collapsed to the floor, coughing violently, his eyes wide with raw terror.

"Get out," Damien snarled. "All of you. Before I change my mind."

The three guards didn't wait. They scrambled out, dragging their injured brother without so much as a backward glance.

Silence settled in like dust.

Elias stepped toward the hearth, arms folded, studying the Alpha whose shadows were beginning to devour him from within.

"You're slipping," Elias said finally.

Damien didn't argue. He stalked toward the war table and poured himself a drink. Amber liquid sloshed into the glass, his hand shook slightly, but he didn't drink it. He just stared into the depths like it held all the answers he couldn't find.

"I dreamed of her again," he murmured. "She was crying. Not for help. For me."

Elias remained quiet.

"I could feel it," Damien continued, voice a rasp now. "Her pain. Her rejection. Like something was tearing through my ribs. Like she was ripping herself out of me."

He slammed the glass on the table.

"I didn't ask for this, Elias."

"None of us did," Elias said. "But she may be the only one who sees you beyond your father's name."

Damien turned sharply.

"And what if I don't want to be seen?"

Elias didn't blink. "Then maybe that's what terrifies you most."

The fire crackled between them. Damien's eyes drifted to the flames.

"She's not fragile."

"I know."

"She's a threat to my reign."

"She might also be the cure," Elias said. "If the prophecy is true."

"And if it's not?" Damien snapped, jaw clenched. "What if the seer said that name just to save herself? What if it was all just a desperate lie?"

Elias hesitated. "Maybe. But your soul doesn't lie to you. Whatever bond you feel, it's real."

Damien let out a bitter breath, the thought gnawing at the edge of his sanity. The possibility that he had been chosen, and that Freya wasn't a curse, but a piece of him he'd lost long ago... it unsettled him more than any war.

"The council will move to find her," Elias said. "If she exists, they will find her. And I won't be able to stop them all. Not without igniting a rebellion."

"Then don't," Damien muttered. "Let them."

Elias raised a brow. "Let them bring her to you."

Damien's laugh was empty. "You think she'll come willingly?"

"No," Elias replied. "But maybe... she'll come ready. Maybe they'll teach her how to face the storm you've become."

Damien went still.

His gaze drifted to the window, where the moon was rising. A sliver of silver against a curtain of dark clouds.

He saw her again, eyes the color of ash and dawnlight. A soul that burned, even in hiding. Even in silence.

"Freya," he whispered under his breath. The name tasted like ash. Like something sacred and dangerous all at once.

The bond tugged again, faint but persistent. Somewhere out there, she existed. Bruised, hidden, terrified. But still burning.

And whether the Moon Goddess meant to damn him or redeem him Damien Blackthorn would find her.

Even if it meant razing the world to do so.