-FINN-
Finn twirled a practice dagger in his hand, still chuckling as the group moved toward the training grounds. The tension that had hung over them in recent days seemed lighter, though the glowing bands on their wrists were a constant reminder of the bond they all now shared.
Mira stopped abruptly, her sharp green eyes narrowing as she sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”
George frowned, his dark brows furrowing. “What?”
“Something’s off,” Mira muttered, her senses heightened now that her tracking ability had amplified. She crouched slightly, her wolf just beneath the surface.
Finn, ever the joker, grinned. “What, Tobias and Freya’s… perfume?”
Mira shot him a glare that could have melted steel. “I’m serious, Finn. It’s like… burnt wood. Ash.”
Zara’s expression hardened, her lithe form tense as her claws instinctively extended. “Rogues?”
“Possibly,” Mira said, her voice low. “But it’s faint, like someone was here earlier and left in a hurry.”
George growled softly, his hand brushing over the hilt of his blade. “Spread out. Check the perimeter.”
The group fanned out, each of them alert. Finn’s playful smirk faded as he activated his shield again, the faint shimmer of energy wrapping around him like a second skin. The whispers had been silent for now, but the strange scent kept him on edge.
-MAGNUS-
Far beyond the packlands, Magnus paced inside the cavernous heart of the rogue camp. His yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his massive frame exuding barely-contained fury.
“Idiots!” he roared, slamming a fist into the wooden table. The impact splintered the surface, sending shards flying. His rogues flinched, none daring to meet his gaze. “Two dead, one captured, and all because you couldn’t follow a simple order. Do you think I built this for you to ruin?”
Lyra, still absent, was another thorn in his side. The whispers that warned him of betrayal grew louder with every passing hour, and he knew her loyalty was wavering. But there was no time to dwell on that now.
Magnus turned, his piercing gaze settling on the newest arrival—a rogue scout who knelt before him, his breathing laboured. “Speak.”
The scout looked up, fear etched into his features. “The pack… they’ve bonded,” he stammered. “The white wolf—I think she’s… marked.”
Magnus’s expression darkened, his claws extending. “Marked? By whom? What makes you think so”
“Their strongest warrior,” the scout said quickly. “The one called Tobias. They were going off to do it. I heard them talking, I managed to get close after masking my scent”
Magnus growled, the sound reverberating through the room like a thunderclap. “This changes nothing. Freya is still the key. Marked or not, she will bend to my will.” His voice lowered, becoming a dangerous purr. “And if Tobias stands in my way, I’ll crush him.”
One of his lieutenants stepped forward cautiously. “The captured rogue… shall we retrieve him?”
Magnus sneered. “No. Let them keep him. He’s weak. We don’t need him.”
“But what if he talks?” the lieutenant pressed.
Magnus’s grin was sharp, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “Then they’ll come for us. And when they do, we’ll be ready.”
-DAEMON-
Daemon’s muscles burned as he sprinted through the forest, the glowing thread from his wrist pulling him toward the packlands like a beacon. His wolf growled impatiently, the energy coursing through him both exhilarating and overwhelming. The whispers had grown silent now, but their command still echoed in his mind.
As he neared the edge of the packlands, the forest thinned, and the faint sounds of training drifted to his ears. He slowed, his sharp grey eyes scanning the figures ahead. The group moved with precision, their bond evident in the way they worked together.
He stepped into the clearing, his presence immediately drawing their attention. George was the first to notice, his body tensing as recognition flickered across his face.
“You,” George said, stepping forward. “I’ve seen you before.”
Daemon stopped, his expression calm but watchful. “You have,” he said simply. “But not for a long time.”
“Who are you?” Mira demanded, her claws extending as she moved to George’s side.
Daemon’s eyes flicked to the band on Mira’s wrist, then to the others. “You already know,” he said, his voice steady. “The threads led me here.”
The group exchanged glances, unease rippling through them. Finn’s shield shimmered faintly as he stepped closer. “I see the thread but how can you be connected to us?”
Daemon nodded, his gaze settling on George. “I am. And I know why.”
“Explain,” George growled, his posture rigid.
Daemon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “My name is Daemon,” he said, his voice steady yet carrying a weight of emotion that stilled the group. His piercing grey eyes locked onto George’s, then shifted to Mira, Zara, Finn, and finally to the faint glow of the threads still visible to his eyes.
George narrowed his gaze. “Why does that sound familiar?”
Daemon exhaled slowly, his wolf pacing within him. “Because you knew me, once. A long time ago when I was in this pack. I was a child when my parents fled.. I was… taken after they were killed.”
The group tensed, a ripple of unease passing through them. Finn’s shield flickered again, and Mira’s sharp gaze softened slightly, as though pieces of a puzzle were beginning to slot into place.
“Why did they flee?” Zara asked, her voice quiet but steady. “And why now? Why are you here after all this time?”
Daemon’s jaw tightened. “They weren’t my real parents,” he admitted, his tone softening. “They were protecting me. My true parents… I don’t know who they were. Only that they entrusted me to them, and when it became clear someone had grown suspicious of me, they tried to run.”
“Suspicious of what?” Finn asked, his curiosity pushing him forward despite Tobias’s absence.
Daemon’s grey eyes darkened. “Of who I am. And now, of who Freya is.”
The mention of Freya sent a ripple of tension through the group. Mira stepped forward, her voice cautious. “What do you mean? How do you know Freya?”
Daemon hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked toward the packhouse in the distance. “Freya and I… we share a bond. Strong enough the threads led me here.”
“What bond?” George’s voice was sharp, protective.
Daemon turned to George, his tone firm but carrying an edge of sorrow. “She is my sister.”
Silence fell over the group like a blanket, the weight of his words settling on each of them differently. Finn’s shield shimmered faintly, as though reacting to the revelation, while Mira and Zara exchanged a glance filled with unspoken questions.
George’s brows furrowed. “You’re telling us Freya is your sister? And you’ve been apart this whole time?”
Daemon nodded, his voice quieter now. “We are actually twins. We were separated when babies but then I had to leave when eight years old. For her safety and mine. But the prophecy…” He trailed off, his fists clenching. “The prophecy has brought us together again. It was always meant to.”
“The damn prophecy,” Finn muttered, exchanging a glance with Mira. “Everyone keeps talking about this prophecy, but what does it mean?”
Daemon took a step closer, his grey eyes scanning the group. “It means Freya and I are both white wolves and at the centre of something far bigger than ourselves. And now that she’s marked, the power she carries will draw enemies to her like a beacon. Magnus was just the beginning.”
“How did you know she is marked?” asked Zara moving closer, “We never told you, in fact we aren’t even positive ourselves that they have completed the bond”
Finn snorted. Mira glared at him and looked back at Daemon. He frowned, but before anyone could respond, the faint sound of footsteps caught their attention. Helena stepped into the clearing, her expression unreadable. “What’s going on here?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as they landed on Daemon.
Daemon turned toward her, and the air seemed to shift. His wolf surged forward, his eyes flashing with sudden intensity. Helena’s body stiffened, her golden eyes widening as a low growl escaped her lips.
“Mate,” they both growled simultaneously, the word heavy with meaning and undeniable recognition.
The group fell silent, the tension crackling in the air as Daemon and Helena stared at each other, the bond forming instantly between them. George broke the silence, his tone a mixture of surprise and exasperation. “Well… didn’t see that coming.”
Finn muttered, “Guess we’re all just one big happy family now. Makes for more presents at Christmas” He chuckled.
But no one laughed. Daemon’s gaze stayed locked on Helena, and she didn’t look away. The two of them stood in the clearing, the thread from Daemon to her wrist now shining visibly to the group, its colours bright and entwined.
Whatever had just shifted, it was clear that the dynamics of their pack, and the prophecy, had just changed dramatically and new choices were to be made.
George looked towards the packhouse…. “Well” He sighed. “Better go and get those two.” He looked over at Finn.
“You have to be kidding me!” moaned Finn glaring back, but started off to brave knocking on the couples door. As he left he slowed as he passed a figure walking towards them. He glanced back, then rushed off towards the packhouse as George froze. The Alpha stalked over looking at the assembled men and women slowly, his gaze finishing on Daemon, eyes narrowed. “Well. Well.” He said thoughtfully. “Daemon is back. To what do we owe this pleasure?”
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