Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Chapter 37

The gates of Shadowmoon Academy had never looked so welcoming.

Corvin stumbled through them with Lucian’s arm draped heavily over his shoulders, both of them caked in mud and blood and the gray dust of the Mistwood. The sun was setting behind the towers, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose, and the sight of it real sunlight, not the sickly glow that filtered through the forest canopy made Corvin’s knees weak with relief.

"We made it," Lucian rasped. His voice was barely a whisper, his face still ashen beneath the streaks of dirt. "We actually made it."

"Told you." Corvin’s own voice wasn’t much stronger. "You’re too annoying to die."

The courtyard was already crowded with students and staff who had heard the news of the returning teams. Hands reached out to steady them as they crossed the threshold. Voices called for healers. Someone took Lucian’s weight from Corvin’s shoulders, and he staggered, suddenly unmoored without the burden.

"Easy there, Eldritch." A pair of strong arms caught him before he could fall. "You’re safe now. You’re back."

Corvin looked up. The face above him was blurry, indistinct. He tried to speak, but his throat was raw and his tongue felt too heavy for his mouth.

"Nyra," he managed. "Where is—is she back? Did Soren’s team make it?"

"I don’t know, son. Just rest. The healers are coming."

"No, you don’t understand. She’s still out there. She’s—" His legs gave out. The stranger lowered him to the ground, and the last thing Corvin saw before the darkness swallowed him was the red-and-gold sky above the academy towers.

"Nyra..."

The healer who knelt beside him caught the name but couldn’t make sense of it. "What’s he saying?"

"Something about a name. Sounded like Lyra. Or Tyra." The stranger shook his head. "Doesn’t matter. Get him inside. This one’s lost a lot of blood too."

They carried Corvin and Lucian into the healer’s wing, and the doors swung shut behind them.

The fire crackled softly in the small clearing, its orange glow pushing back the encroaching darkness. Soren had found the shelter by accident an old stone hut, long abandoned, its roof half-collapsed but its walls still standing. It wasn’t much, but it was dry and defensible and out of the wind. The shawl they’d discovered inside was large enough to wrap around them both, thick wool that smelled faintly of dust and lavender.

Nyra pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and watched Soren add another branch to the fire. The tea they’d brewed from wild herbs was bitter but warm, and she cupped her hands around the tin mug, letting the heat seep into her fingers.

They had been sitting in silence for nearly an hour. The fire popped. The wind whispered through the broken roof. The sky above them was a deep, velvet blue, the first stars beginning to prick through the darkness.

Nyra broke the silence.

"Why did you ignore me?"

Soren didn’t look up from the fire. "What?"

"Since the beginning of the week. Before the mission. And when we first entered the forest." Her voice was quiet but steady. "You walked past me like I was invisible. You let Valeria hang on your arm. You didn’t even look at me. Why?"

"I didn’t ignore you on purpose."

"You did. I was right there, and you walked past me like I didn’t exist."

"You asked for it." Soren poked at the fire with a stick. "I gave you what you wanted."

Nyra stared at him. "I asked for it? When? How?"

"In the corridor. After the briefing." He finally looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable in the firelight. "I held your hand. You pulled away. You said you wanted to talk to your friends instead."

The memory hit her like a physical blow. The corridor. The briefing. Soren reaching for her arm, and her pulling back because she’d been jealous and hurt and too proud to admit it.

"You—" She struggled for words. "That was different. I was upset. I didn’t mean for you to ignore me for days."

"You said you didn’t want to talk. I respected that."

"Since when do you listen to me? You’ve never listened to me before. You’ve pushed me and challenged me and refused to let me hide. But the one time I actually needed you to push back, you just... let me go."

Soren set the stick down. "Nyra—"

"You gave me the silent treatment because I asked for it? That’s not fair, Soren. That’s not—" She stopped, her voice catching. "Do you know how it felt? Watching you with Valeria? Watching her touch you, hold your arm, whisper in your ear? And you didn’t stop her. You didn’t pull away. You just let her."

"Because I was trying to figure out what I felt." His voice was rough. "Because every time I look at you, I don’t know what to do with myself. Because my wolf calls you mate and I can’t think straight when you’re near me, and I thought—" He broke off, jaw tight. "I thought if I gave you space, it would make things clearer. For both of us."

"And did it?"

"No. It made everything worse."

Nyra set her mug down on the ground. The tea sloshed over the rim, but she didn’t notice. She was too focused on him the hard line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the way he was staring at the fire like it held all the answers.

"Nyra, we are not doing this again." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Please. I don’t have the strength."

"Then don’t argue with me." She shifted closer to him on the fallen log, the shawl slipping from her shoulders. "If you don’t have the strength to argue, at least look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you feel. Don’t look away from me. Please."

"Nyra..."

"Please, Soren. Don’t shut me out again."

She reached up and touched his jaw. Her fingers were cold from the night air, but her touch was gentle featherlight, tracing the hard edge of his cheekbone. She turned his face toward hers, and he let her. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t flinch. He just looked at her with those dark, unreadable eyes.

"I’m not going anywhere," she whispered. "I’m right here. Just... look at me."

He looked at her. Really looked. The firelight caught the silver of her hair, the exhaustion in her eyes, the faint pulse of light still flickering beneath her skin. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She leaned closer. Her lips were inches from his. He could feel her breath, warm and soft.

"Howl."

The sound split the night like a blade.

Soren’s head snapped toward the treeline. His body went rigid, every muscle coiling with sudden tension. The howl came again closer this time, and joined by another. And another.

"Inside," he said, his voice iron. "Now."

"But—"

"No arguments. Not this time." He grabbed his sword and kicked dirt over the fire, plunging the clearing into darkness. "Get inside the hut. Bar the door. Don’t come out until I come back."

Nyra scrambled to her feet. "Soren—"

"Go."

She went. The door of the stone hut creaked shut behind her, and she pressed her back against it, her heart hammering, her lips still burning with the kiss that hadn’t happened.

Outside, Soren moved toward the treeline, his sword gleaming faintly in the starlight. The howls were closer now, circling. He could hear them moving through the forest, could smell the musk and blood and wild hunger.

Rogues, Kael growled. More of them. They must have been tracking us since the chasm.

"How many?"

Three. Maybe four. Weakened, like the others. But still dangerous.

Soren tightened his grip on his sword. "Then we finish this."

Agreed. But first— Kael’s voice softened, just slightly. —she was going to kiss you.

"I know."

And you were going to let her.

"I know."

Good. Don’t die. I want to see how that ends.

Soren almost smiled. "Neither do I."

He stepped into the darkness, and the forest swallowed him whole.

Soren moved through the trees like a shadow, his footsteps silent on the moss, his sword held low and ready. The howls had stopped. That was worse than the sound itself silence meant the hunters had found their prey and were closing in.

Three, Kael confirmed, his voice a low growl in Soren’s mind. Two circling to the east. One hanging back, watching. The one watching is the leader.

"I figured."

You usually do. It’s one of your more annoying traits.

Soren paused behind a thick oak, pressing his back against the bark. "You’re unusually chatty tonight."

I’m always chatty. You’re just usually too busy brooding to listen.

"I don’t brood."

You’re the broodiest wolf I’ve ever met. You brood while you eat. You brood while you train. You brood while you’re standing in front of a woman who is clearly about to kiss you, and instead of kissing her back, you wait for a rogue howl to interrupt.

Soren’s jaw tightened. "That wasn’t my fault."

It wasn’t not your fault. You could have kissed her hours ago. Days ago. Weeks ago. You could have kissed her the moment she fell into your arms in that corridor and your wolf called her mate for the first time.

"I was confused."

You were scared.

A branch snapped to the east. Soren tensed, but it was just a deer a fleeting shadow between the trees. He exhaled slowly and resumed his advance.

"Maybe I was scared," he admitted quietly. "I’ve never felt this before. Not for anyone. And I didn’t know what to do with it."

You still don’t.

"No. I still don’t."