Morning brought no peace.
The village stirred early, wolves already at the passes, fae sharpening blades, humans stacking crates for barricades. The smell of pine smoke and boiled herbs clung to the air. The howls from the gorge had faded, but nobody mistook the silence for safety. It was the kind of hush that warned the storm was gathering just beyond sight.
For the three new shifters — four, if Jonah was counted — the day began with fever and aching bones. They looked like survivors of a night-long illness, their eyes bright but restless, their movements clumsy with exhaustion.
Clint stretched his arms as though they were too small for him. "I thought I'd feel like a bear," he muttered. "Instead I feel like… my skeleton's trying to crawl out of me."
Kara smirked from where she sat polishing a dagger. "Maybe your spirit finally matches your brain. Small, angry, and hard to get rid of."
Elise yawned, lounging back with deliberate grace. "The cat is already better company than either of you." She flicked a speck of ash off her sleeve as if to prove her point.
Clint groaned. "Brilliant. Fox, cat, badger. Sounds like a travelling circus, not warriors."
From the steps, Jonah piped up, his voice thin but proud. "And a snake." He hissed softly, baring his teeth in a grin.
The others glanced at him uneasily. Torvee's hand hovered protectively over his shoulder, her jaw tight. "Jonah—"
"I felt it," he said quickly. "Inside me. Coiling. Waiting." His eyes glimmered with stubborn pride. "I can be like you now, Torvee. I don't have to hide behind anyone."
Torvee's throat worked, but no words came.
---
Clint, restless, pushed himself to his feet. "Maybe I can force it. Get the beast out."
"Don't," Torvee warned sharply.
But Clint was already bracing himself, clenching fists, as if sheer stubbornness could trigger the change. His face went red, veins bulging at his temples. Nothing happened. He grunted and pushed harder, like a man trying to lift a mountain with his back. Still nothing.
Kara laughed, low and sly. "Keep pushing, maybe you'll turn into a beetroot."
"Shut it," Clint snapped. "If I can't shift, maybe you can't either."
Kara's smirk faltered. She shut her eyes, focused, and for a flicker her aura shimmered — the faintest ripple of fox-like cunning brushing against Elara's sight. But the moment collapsed, leaving her panting.
Elise arched a brow. "Fox, beetroot, and circus strongman. We're doomed."
Jonah frowned, clutching his fists. "You're not trying hard enough. Watch—" He squeezed his eyes shut, his body tensing, his lips parting in a hiss. For a second his back arched, as though something slithered just beneath his skin.
"Stop it!" Torvee barked, grabbing his arm. "Not now, Jonah."
The boy jerked away, angry tears pricking his eyes. "Why not? You're just scared. You think I'll fail. But I won't."
---
The scene drew attention. A few wolves slowed their patrol, watching with wary curiosity. Garrett and Amber appeared, carrying maps and packs, pausing to observe the struggle. Even some of the fae lingered nearby, their auras bright against the morning light.
Clint paced like a caged bear. "What's the point if we can't use it? We're supposed to fight with these animals, aren't we?"
Kara retorted, "Maybe you just didn't get one worth fighting with."
Elise cut in coolly. "Or maybe the problem is that you're too busy shouting to listen to what's inside you."
The bickering swelled, Jonah's hiss growing louder, Clint's curses harsher. Torvee's voice broke in, trying to corral them, but the chaos only grew. The wolves looked uneasy, glancing between one another as if unsure whether to intervene.
---
Elara had been standing at the edge, watching the quarrel boil over. Her head throbbed with the energy of the full moon, every sound sharper, every movement clearer. She felt it — a thrum under her skin, a pull that made her chest ache. The noise, the foolishness, the danger of trying to shift without control — it broke her patience.
"Enough!" she shouted. Her voice cracked like a whip.
They didn't stop. Clint still paced, Kara still taunted, Jonah still hissed.
The energy in Elara swelled, pressing at her throat until the words burst out, sharp as steel.
"Sit down!"
The command tore through the square.
And they obeyed.
Kara dropped onto a bench mid-retort, eyes wide with shock. Clint flopped onto the ground with a grunt, blinking in confusion. Elise folded herself down cross-legged with feline grace, muttering under her breath. Jonah plopped onto the dirt, hissing fading into silence. Even Torvee sank onto the steps without meaning to, her brows furrowed in alarm.
But it didn't stop there. Garrett sat heavily on a crate, his map slipping from his hand. Amber, mid-stride, dropped into a crouch, her arms falling loose at her sides. Two wolves in fur slumped onto their haunches, ears twitching. A fae elder blinked and lowered onto the stone steps, stunned.
And then — the impossible.
Riven, who had stepped into the square only moments earlier, his golden aura blazing, sat down. Not by choice, not with hesitation. One moment he stood proud, alpha of alphas, and the next he lowered himself onto a stone block at the edge of the square, his eyes burning with shock and something sharper — recognition.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Everyone's gaze swung between Elara and the alpha. If he had been forced to obey, then her power was not bound by rank, strength, or will.
Only Caleb remained standing.
--
The weight of the moment pressed down on them all. Garrett rose shakily, his expression unreadable. Amber stared at Elara with something close to fear. The fae elders whispered in their strange, lilting tongue. Torvee clutched Jonah tight, her face pale.
Clint scrambled to his feet, muttering nervously. Kara rubbed her arms, Elise avoided Elara's gaze. Jonah leaned against Torvee, his wide eyes filled with awe.
Riven stayed seated, golden eyes locked on Elara. He didn't growl. He didn't smile. He only watched.
And Caleb — the only one who hadn't bent — stared at her, his face a mix of confusion and worry. "Elara," he said softly, "what did you just do?"
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her voice trembled when she finally whispered, "I… I didn't mean—"
But intent didn't matter. Her words no longer belonged only to her. They carried weight. They carried command.
Whether she wanted them to or not.