Page 82 of To Carve A Wolf

I saw a world burning, torn apart by chaos. Strange metal birds roaring through skies thick with ash, casting dark shadows over lands ravaged by war. Two souls, immortal, their hearts finding each other even there, as the dead rose in endless hordes, marching mindlessly to devour the living. Love surviving thearmy of the dead, defiant, eternal, amidst hopelessness.

Another flash—

A bleak, dark city, cold metal gleaming harshly beneathendless rain. People walking mechanically, their minds shackled by some dark magic embedded like runes of steel into their very skulls. Chips of iron controlling their every thought, their every breath—but still, two souls fought through, reaching desperately toward each other, defying the oppressive darkness that sought to consume them. Choosing death on their own terms, together.

My head spun violently.

The images came faster now.

A world on the brink, shadow and corruption sinking deep beneath the earth, spreading dark roots like the tendrils of a poisoned tree, draining life itself from every living creature. Above, a fierce, fiery bird, feathers burning like flame, clenched her claws, ready to dive, lightning tearing the sky apart as she prepared for battle.

Then—so fast I barely caught it—

A man standing in strange, gleaming armour marked by scars of countless battles, his eyes deep with an ache I recognized all too clearly. Tenderly, he tucked a lock of golden hair behind the ear of a woman whose eyes shone with trust and longing. He pressed a soft yellow rose gently into her hair, lips murmuring a promise so powerful it echoed across eternity: “I will find you, over and over again. No matter how many worlds stand between us.”

Pain shattered my skull—

And suddenly, violently, reality snapped back.

I hit the floor hard, stone cracking beneath me, the portal tearing closed behind us with a deafening snap. The witch landed heavily beside me, coughing, drained to the very last drop of her power.

We were back at the citadel. But the air wasn't silent. It was filled with screaming. Screams of terror, battle, chaos.

Smoke curled thick in the air, sharp and acrid, stinging my nose and throat as I staggered to my feet. The magic still buzzedin my veins, my body aching from the violent return.

We were behind the stables—at the far edge of the citadel. And that’s when I saw them. Three bodies lay sprawled in the mud-soaked snow, blood pooling beneath them.

Garrick.

I ran.

He was gasping, barely conscious, soaked in crimson from a deep wound that cleaved through his side. The two others—my men—were already gone, their eyes wide and empty, throats slashed with clean, practised cruelty.

But Garrick, he still breathed.

His lips curled weakly as I dropped beside him, pressing my hands over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His eyes fluttered open.

“Took you long enough,” he wheezed, a ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up,” I muttered, jaw clenched. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured, coughing blood. “You’ve always been shit at it.”

The witch limped beside me, face pale, her hands shaking.“I’ve got this,” she said quietly. “Might be able to pull him back. Not a promise.”

I looked at her, really looked, and saw how wrecked she was. Her skin grey, breath shallow, eyes sunken. The portal had drained her, and the spell she’d brewed for Lexa had taken the rest.

She was running on fumes.

“This is it,” she said, kneeling down with effort. “This is the last thing I can do for you, Alpha. After this… you're on your own.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t thank her. I just nodded, then stood slowly, scanning the ground.

One of the wolves that had fallen lay face down in the mud, sword still clutched in his hand. I ripped it from his grip and turned toward the gates.

The smoke was thicker now. Screams echoed through the halls. I could hear the clash of steel, the shouts of men fighting for—or against—something they didn’t understand.

Lexa.

---