I found the Winter Alpha in the archives, surrounded by ancient texts that crumbled at the edges.
"Mind control," I said without preamble. "What could give Declan that power?"
She looked up, frost-touched eyes grave. "Few things. Most are legend. But..." She pushed a tome toward me. "There are whispers of something called the Silencer. A shadow so old it predates the Severing. One that feeds not on emotion, but on will itself."
"Declan made a deal with an Ancient Shadow?"
"Worse. If the Silencer exists, it doesn't make deals. It takes hosts. Hollows them out, uses them like puppets." She closed the book carefully. "If Declan has that inside him..."
"Then Marcus fights two enemies tomorrow. The Alpha and the thing wearing him."
I left her searching for counters, knowing we'd find none in time. In the healer's quarters, Morgana worked with our scout, trying to undo the mental damage.
"It's like nothing I've seen," she admitted. "Not just compulsion. More like his will was... overwritten. Temporarily, thank the moon, but if exposure was longer..."
Another piece of the puzzle. The Silencer didn't just control—it erased.
I found Marcus in our—in his quarters, preparing weapons he wouldn't be allowed to use. Single combat meant fang and claw only.
"You shouldn't go," I said from the doorway.
"I know." He didn't look up. "But when I refuse, Declan attacks anyway. At least this way, it's just me who dies."
"Stop saying that!"
"Why?" Now he did look up, and his eyes held that terrible peace of acceptance. "Why does it matter to you if I die, Aria? You've made it clear we're just partners. Co-parents. My death would simplify—"
I crossed the room before thought could stop action, grabbed his face, and kissed him.
It wasn't gentle. Three years of anger, of hurt, of denied longing crashed together. His shadows responded instantly, wrapping around us both, and for a moment we were complete again—not through a mate bond, but through chosen connection.
Then I pulled back, both of us breathing hard.
"Because I'm an idiot," I said roughly. "Because despite everything, some part of me still—" I couldn't say it. "Just don't die tomorrow."
"Aria—"
"Partners," I said firmly, stepping back. "But partners who want both parents alive for their daughter."
Before he could respond, Luna's scream shattered the night.
We ran, finding her room in chaos. She writhed in her bed, caught in nightmare—but her power made it real. Shadows and light warred around her, and through our bond I felt her terror.
"She's seeing tomorrow," the Winter Alpha said, appearing like frost. "Her gift is showing her possible futures."
Through my connection, I caught glimpses—Marcus dying a dozen different ways. Declan-who-wasn't-Declan laughing. Wolves kneeling as their wills were stripped away. And worse—Luna herself, eyes empty as the Silencer took her power for its own.
"Baby, wake up!" I shook her gently, but she was too deep.
"Let me," Marcus said quietly. He placed a hand on her forehead, and his shadows flowed into her nightmare. Not fighting it, but joining it. Showing her different possibilities. Futures where we won.
Luna's eyes snapped open, tears streaming. "Daddy?"
"I'm here, little moon. Just a bad dream."
"No," she said with terrible certainty. "Not dream. Tomorrow. The bad thing in the other Alpha—it wants me. Wants to use me to make all wolves quiet forever."
The final piece clicked. Declan wasn't just coming to kill Marcus. He was coming for Luna. The single combat was bait to get our strongest defenders focused elsewhere while the Silencer claimed the one weapon that could stop it—a True Empath who could unite what was severed.
"Then we change the game," I said, mind racing. "Marcus, you'll accept the challenge. But not alone."
"Single combat means—"
"I know what it means. But there's nothing in ancient law that says a challenged Alpha can't have an advisor present. Someone to ensure fair combat." I smiled, sharp as winter. "And if that advisor happens to be an empath who can sense external interference..."
"It's still suicide," Marcus protested. "If Declan is possessed—"
"Then we need someone who understands possession." I looked at Luna, hating what I was about to suggest. "Baby, the Silencer—could you feel it? In the dream?"
She nodded solemnly. "It's not like other shadows. It's empty. Hungry but not for food. Hungry for... for quiet. It hates feeling things."
"Could you protect Daddy from it? Just long enough for him to fight the real Declan?"
"Aria, no," Marcus said immediately. "We're not bringing our three-year-old to—"
"The Silencer wants her anyway," I cut him off. "At least this way, we control the meeting. And she's not just any three-year-old."
Luna looked between us, then nodded firmly. "I'll help. The bad shadow needs to learn that quiet isn't better than feeling."
We had a plan. Insane, dangerous, but better than walking blind into sacrifice.
The longest night was only half over, and tomorrow would bring either triumph or the end of everything we'd fought for.
But at least we'd face it together.