Page 32 of Wolf Chosen

Elara nods, a sad smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You're right, of course. But the pack's laws at the time forbade relationships between wolves and humans. As wrong as they were, they saw it as a threat to the pack's purity and strength.”

She sighs, the sound heavy with ancient grief. “Rowan and Eliza were forced to keep their love a secret, meeting in stolen moments and hidden places, but when the pack leaders discovered their relationship, they were furious. They demanded that Rowan choose between his love for Eliza and his loyalty to the pack.”

A bitter laugh escapes her lips. “Rowan chose the pack. He turned his back on Eliza, on their bond. And she, heartbroken and betrayed, fled the pack's territory, never to be seen again.”

The room is silent, the weight of Elara's words hanging heavy in the air. I feel the ache of Rowan's choice, the echoes of Eliza's pain. It's a story as old as time, a tragedy played out over and over again.

“Rowan threw himself into his duties as a pack member,” Elara continues, her voice hardening. “But his resentment toward the pack grew. He blamed them for forcing his hand, for making him choose between love and duty. He began to delve into dark magic, seeking ways to increase his own power and to undermine the pack from within.”

She meets Mitch's gaze, her eyes glittering with a fierce light. “Elias ended up culling him for his transgressions. Or so we thought.”

A chill runs down my spine, a sickening sense of dread settling in my gut. “You think he survived,” I whisper, the words like ashes on my tongue.

Elara nods, her face grim. “If this is the same Rowan, then yes. I believe he's using black magic to extend his life, to cheat death itself. And if he wants the Chalice of Lunar Rites...”

She trails off, her eyes distant. “Then it's likely he's the one who's been turning wolves feral with it. Perfecting his magic over centuries, biding his time until he could strike. It makes sense. Tainting the Goddess symbol with black magic makes sense.”

Silence descends, heavy and oppressive. I see the shock on everyone's faces, the horror and disbelief. It's a nightmare made real, a threat we never saw coming.

“Taylor,” Elara says softly, her gaze piercing as it meets mine. “How did you escape? If Rowan can control minds, his power must be immense. A normal human shouldn't have been able to break his hold.”

“In my dream,” I begin, my voice trembling, “there was a golden angel. A woman made of light. She gave me words to say, and when I woke, I felt this...this need to touch Rowan. Like I couldn't fight it even if I wanted to.”

Elara's eyes widen, a flicker of something like hope sparking in their depths. “What were the words, Taylor?”

I close my eyes, the strange syllables rising to my lips as if they've always been there, waiting to be spoken. “Lunaris, Lunara, noctem illuminare, Gratia Lunarith, revelare lucem absconditam.”

A gasp ripples through the room, a collective intake of breath. Elara's hand flies to her mouth, her eyes round with shock. She staggers back a step, her face draining of color.

“Elara?” Mitch's voice is sharp with concern. “What is it? What do those words mean?”

The witch shakes her head, wonder and disbelief warring on her features. “Lunaris, Lunara, illuminate the night. By Lunarith's grace, reveal hidden light.”

Her gaze finds mine, a wealth of emotion swirling in those fathomless depths. “The Goddess came to you, Taylor. Her name is Lunarith, the mother of all wolf shifters. You saw her, spoke with her. She blessed you with her power, her protection.”

A shiver runs through me, a feeling of awe and humility. The Goddess herself reached out to me, chose me. But why? What could she possibly see in me? And how is that possible? I’m not a wolf shifter. Not a full one, in any case.

Elara frowns. “It's been a long time since Lunarith has made her presence known. For her to intervene now, in this way...”

She trails off, a pensive look on her face, but before she can continue, a searing pain rips through my chest. I cry out, doubling over as agony lances through me.

Cindi's arms are around me in an instant, holding me up as my knees buckle. She guides me to the bed, helping me stretch out beside Liam's unnaturally still form.

Elara is at my side in a heartbeat, her hand pressing gently against my sternum. Her lips move in a silent incantation, her eyes glowing molten silver. A warm, soothing sensation spreads through my chest, easing the pain to a dull ache.

The relief is short-lived. Liam thrashes on the bed, a low moan tearing from his throat. His face is contorted in agony, his muscles seizing and twitching beneath his skin.

“Something is coming between your bond,” Elara says, her voice tight with strain. “It should be impossible, but Rowan's magic must be strong. Stronger than anything I've ever seen.”

Tears blur my vision, desperation clawing at my throat. “Please.” My voice breaks. “Help him, Elara. I'll do anything, endure anything. Just save him.”

The witch meets my gaze, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “The process will not be pleasant, Taylor. For either of you. The darkness within Liam runs deep, and rooting it out will be...painful.”

I nod, my jaw set with determination. “I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes. I can't lose him, Elara. I won't.”

She searches my face for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “I’ll do what I can and hope that it’s enough.”

She places one hand on Liam's chest and the other on mine, closing her eyes as her brow furrows in concentration. She begins to chant words that twist on her tongue and wash over me. Power thrums around me, shimmering through the air, growing thicker and heavier.

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