Showing Her
Xander POV
I leave Serafine in the classroom and make my way to the war room. I need to ensure that the plans have been followed. That all our weaknesses are strengthened. The moment I step in, Garrick is ready and waiting for me.
“Explain,” I say, before taking a seat.
“We have our guards and warriors on the weakest points. Each person knows no place is to be left unmanned. They know if the next person doesn’t show up for their shift, they have to stay at the post and send back a message letting us know.”
That relaxes me. “Are there any weak spots?” I wait, and his head shakes. “None? With the True Moon tomorrow, and then The Calling just days later, I need to be sure all our women are safe.”
He moves to the maps and points. “We strengthened everything, I’ve already begun to ensure there are sigils and spells to protect the border. Along with that, the Moonforged Stags, Hollowborn Ravens, Silvermane Hounds and Stoneback guardians are prepared to work the longer hours to cover all guards and warriors who will be involved in the rituals.”
It’s not ideal. “I would rather we kept them hidden, they are an asset, something not many know we acquire, but the safety of the pack is a must, so it’s a good plan.”
Not many packs have those, or have even seen them. So it’s something on our side, should anyone try to attack us, which is why I would rather not use them purely for protection and keep them hidden for battles.
“The men whom we sent out for information should be returning today,” Garrick explains.
Good, that’s really good, as I need to know if Gideon has mentioned anything. I also need to know about the other local packs and how they are getting on. After a few hours of us discussing the nights when the rituals happen, I leave the war room and go to find Serafine.
She’s still in the classroom, and I gesture for her to join me. She stays quiet as I lead her out of the building. She walks beside me, not asking anything. The path we walk curves away from the main grounds and cuts through the thickets where the trees grow ancient and close.
The air changes to something denser, charged with old magic. She glances around and is more cautious now, almost like she can feel the shift. Good, she should feel it. The land here is unlike the rest, it’s sacred, veiled and hidden from the eyes of those who have no right to see what lies ahead.
*
“This path is not for the pack,” I explain. “Only a few are permitted to walk it.”
She swallows but keeps on walking without missing a step.
“It’s important that you know what guards this pack when wolves give themselves over to instinct,” I continue, keeping my voice low. “On the nights of the True Moon and the Calling, we can’t rely on our warriors. We wouldn’t be able to, our instincts wouldn’t allow it. Even the strongest wolves fall to the pull of the moon, and no command can break that hold.”
She nods only once, and her hands are clutched in front of her.
“So, we of course use something else to ensure the pack is safe,” I tell her as we step through the thick wall of low–hanging vines. The hidden glade reveals itself on the other side.
The clearing opens, and the sky above it is always slightly darker, the light filtered strangely through the trees. The air hums with presence, not sound; there’s barely any, it’s the presence of what lingers here.
Her steps falter now, and I see it in the set of her shoulders.
“They don’t look like much during the day, I murmur, stepping forward. “The fact is, that’s the point, that’s the way it should be.”
The first shape rises near the far end of the glade, tall but moving slowly. A stag, the antlers shimmer like burnished silver, and faint glyphs are carved into the bone, glowing faintly even in the sunlight. The hooves are silent on the moss, and his eyes are molten gold.
“They are Moonforged Stags,” I tell her. “They don’t run, they only charge. They are unstoppable once set on a threat. If you cross their path, they will see you as an enemy.”
She doesn’t speak, she says nothing at all, but her posture stiffens as the stag lifts its head and watches her with a calm, intelligent focus. She needs to know these things, living in the pack house, she’s closer to them.
Gesturing to the left, where shadows cluster on the branches ahove I motion to it. “Hollowborn Ravens,” I say. “They don’t speak, don’t even caw. They remember faces, Successfully unlocked!ments. If a rogue, or anyone, comes cloaked in spell work, they’ll be the first to strike, signalling to others that it’s a trap
Two pairs of coal–dark eyes blink from the boughs, and Serafine glances up and instantly looks away. Her wolf no doubt can sense the eerie stillness in them; they aren’t just birds, not anymore.
We move and step deeper, and in the shaded hollow of the rocks, three large shapes stir. Their fur is silver and white, sleek
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Showing Her
like the moonlight on snow. It’s as if they rise like fog, totally silent, and waiting.
“These are Silvermane Hounds,” I say. “They’re faster than anything that breathes. They are bred from old bloodlines, half spirit and half beast. They run only during the True Moon and the Calling. When they hunt, they don’t stop.”
Serafine steps closer to me, it’s an unconscious move, and I don’t call her out for it. Finally, I gesture to the base of the glade, where the stone meets the earth. At first glance, it looks like part of the rock, until the largest one shifts. “Stoneback Guardians,” I say quietly. “They were sculpted in old ways. Flesh turned to stone, then back again. If they rise, it means the boundary has been breached.”
She stares at it for a long moment, her eyes wide. It’s body is covered in granite–plated hide, and honestly, it is like armor fused with bone. It doesn’t move again, but the weight of its stillness presses on the air. It’s like a threat waiting to unfold. “On ritual nights,” I say slowly, “you stay away from here; if you’re not called to their presence, they’ll see you as something to be removed. They don’t speak, and they certainly don’t think in mercy or malice. Their primary focus is to guard, that’s all.” She nods, and I watch her throat bob as she swallows again. Good, she understands.
“They aren’t wolves,” I explain. “That’s why we trust them. They don’t answer to instinct like us, they don’t fall under the moon’s spell, and they don’t forget.”
Staying here, we stand in silence for a while. The protectors don’t move, or shift, but the forest is watching.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispers at last. “And terrifying.”
“So they should be,” I reply. “They’re here to protect what we can’t. The beauty makes enemies think they are safe at first, that’s what is needed.”
I don’t tell her that few in the pack have ever seen all four types, I don’t tell her that bringing her here means something. Even if I haven’t yet decided what it means that I brought her here. I do watch her closely though as we walk back, and I feel something shift in me that wasn’t there before.
She knows now, and knowledge for her, is both a weapon and a leash.
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