Page 92 of Pack Captive

Calian had agreed immediately when I asked him to come to the necropolis with me to see if I could deliberately raise a spirit wolf.

I looked up at the jar on the shelf that contained the essence of my Warriors' souls.

I'd known all three of them well, but Trion had been the friendliest with me, the one most likely to make jokes instead of treating me like I was of a different breed.

So I would summon his spirit. It felt like he was the most likely to respond to me.

I took a breath and closed my eyes, feeling my surroundings with every sense but sight. It smelled of stone and ashes, and the marble altar was cold under my palms.

None of the accounts I'd read had actually explainedhowto call on the ancestors. They were mostly just tales recounting what the past Spirit Callers had done, rather than the exact steps.

I was going off nothing but legends and instinct now.

The moon's power flooded through me, and through my eyelids I saw a flare of light as Calian's runes lit up.

Trion. Are you there?

It felt a little silly to be talking in my head to nothing but thin air, but I had no idea how else to do.

Nothing replied, exactly as I had expected.

I frowned, and Calian squeezed me a little, silently telling me to relax and go with the flow.

I summon your spirit from death. Come back, Trion.

Several long minutes passed. Nothing happened.

"This was just a fluke," I mumbled, opening my eyes. "There's nothing but myths about it at this point. Not even a set of instructions!"

How could all the Callers of ages past have written a million volumes on how to meditate, but no one had thought to write down the general steps of summoning the dead?

"That's because you're forcing it." Calian's deep voice echoed in the vault.

I shifted in place, the cold seeping into my bones. "I feel ridiculous. Am I supposed to intone something? Demand it? I have no idea."

I'd felt ridiculous just saying the words in my head. I didn’t think performing a full-on ritual would work much better.

"What were you doing when you called their spirits the first time?" he asked.

He was running his fingers over my arms, stroking me from shoulder to elbow, which was very distracting in a pleasant way.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I was just..." I paused, thinking back to it. Both times had been when I was conducting a rite...and I'd called on the cold blue fire that would consume their last living remains. "Wait."

I closed my eyes again, settling my hands into place on the smooth surface of the altar.

This time, I didn't use words. I just thought of Trion and the pack, and what he had meant to them, and pushed the power into my hands.

The flames licked my fingers, painting the vault in dancing blue shadows. The jolt that was becoming more familiar echoed through me, making me feel like I'd been hollowed out.

My teeth started chattering as the temperature dropped, and when I opened my eyes...

Our breath came out in billows of steam, and the flames had died.

But the shadows still shifted around us as an enormous, ghostly wolf stalked around the altar, its gleaming eyes fixed on me.

"Fuck, Ayla. You did it." Calian's whisper seemed as loud as a shout in the crypt.

My hands were shaking as I reached out to Trion's spirit.

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