Chapter 13
Caspian's forces reached Shadowfang in under eight hours.
The battle was brutal but brief. Thornridge wolves fought with disciplined precision, routing the invaders from two breach points within the first night. By dawn, the southern border was secured and civilians were being escorted back to safety.
I monitored everything through the pack's communication channels, Lyra strapped to my chest, my hands steady even as my heart raced.
On the eastern front, Caspian's warriors found Dorian.
He was barely alive.
The blood curse had eaten through his wolf almost entirely, and he'd taken on an entire Rogue squad alone. His body was broken — ribs shattered, one arm hanging useless, blood everywhere. His single remaining eye was unfocused, glazed with pain.
But he was still breathing.
Caspian's warriors brought him back to the Shadowfang healing center, stabilized him, and reported everything to Caspian directly.
"He'll live," Caspian told me over the phone that night, his voice tired. "Barely. The curse is accelerating. Helga estimated maybe a year, possibly less."
I closed my eyes. "Thank you for saving them."
"I didn't do it for him."
"I know."
When Caspian returned home three days later, everything went back to normal — or as normal as it could be. Shadowfang was stabilized under Dorian's cousin's leadership. Vivienne was captured attempting to flee and handed over to the Council for formal judgment.
And Dorian... Dorian was alive. Broken, cursed, and stripped of everything he once had — but alive.
One month later, a single item arrived at our border gate. No letter. No message. Just a small wooden box with the Shadowfang crest branded into the lid.
Inside was the wolf fang necklace that had belonged to my father.
I stared at it for a long time, remembering the day Dorian had ripped it from my neck and called me a thief. Remembering how he'd given it to Vivienne like it meant nothing.
Now it was back.
I put it in Lyra's keepsake box, where it belonged.
...
Three months later, Neil contacted me one final time.
"He's asking to see Lyra," Neil said. "Just once. He knows he's dying, Elara. The healers give him weeks, not months."
I pressed the phone against my ear and watched Lyra toddle across the living room toward Caspian, who scooped her up and spun her in circles while she shrieked with delight.
"He can see her," I said finally. "On my terms. At our border. With Caspian present. One hour."
Neil exhaled shakily. "Thank you."
"And Neil — tell him that if he upsets her, even for a second, it's over."
"I will. Elara... he wanted me to tell you something."
"What?"
"He said, 'Tell her she was right. About everything. Tell her I'm sorry I didn't listen when she was standing right in front of me.'"
I let the words wash over me, feeling nothing but the distant echo of an old wound that had long since closed.
"Tell him I heard him."
I hung up and went to join my family.
The battle was brutal but brief. Thornridge wolves fought with disciplined precision, routing the invaders from two breach points within the first night. By dawn, the southern border was secured and civilians were being escorted back to safety.
I monitored everything through the pack's communication channels, Lyra strapped to my chest, my hands steady even as my heart raced.
On the eastern front, Caspian's warriors found Dorian.
He was barely alive.
The blood curse had eaten through his wolf almost entirely, and he'd taken on an entire Rogue squad alone. His body was broken — ribs shattered, one arm hanging useless, blood everywhere. His single remaining eye was unfocused, glazed with pain.
But he was still breathing.
Caspian's warriors brought him back to the Shadowfang healing center, stabilized him, and reported everything to Caspian directly.
"He'll live," Caspian told me over the phone that night, his voice tired. "Barely. The curse is accelerating. Helga estimated maybe a year, possibly less."
I closed my eyes. "Thank you for saving them."
"I didn't do it for him."
"I know."
When Caspian returned home three days later, everything went back to normal — or as normal as it could be. Shadowfang was stabilized under Dorian's cousin's leadership. Vivienne was captured attempting to flee and handed over to the Council for formal judgment.
And Dorian... Dorian was alive. Broken, cursed, and stripped of everything he once had — but alive.
One month later, a single item arrived at our border gate. No letter. No message. Just a small wooden box with the Shadowfang crest branded into the lid.
Inside was the wolf fang necklace that had belonged to my father.
I stared at it for a long time, remembering the day Dorian had ripped it from my neck and called me a thief. Remembering how he'd given it to Vivienne like it meant nothing.
Now it was back.
I put it in Lyra's keepsake box, where it belonged.
...
Three months later, Neil contacted me one final time.
"He's asking to see Lyra," Neil said. "Just once. He knows he's dying, Elara. The healers give him weeks, not months."
I pressed the phone against my ear and watched Lyra toddle across the living room toward Caspian, who scooped her up and spun her in circles while she shrieked with delight.
"He can see her," I said finally. "On my terms. At our border. With Caspian present. One hour."
Neil exhaled shakily. "Thank you."
"And Neil — tell him that if he upsets her, even for a second, it's over."
"I will. Elara... he wanted me to tell you something."
"What?"
"He said, 'Tell her she was right. About everything. Tell her I'm sorry I didn't listen when she was standing right in front of me.'"
I let the words wash over me, feeling nothing but the distant echo of an old wound that had long since closed.
"Tell him I heard him."
I hung up and went to join my family.