The sky was still dark when I climbed the ridge.
Mist clung to the ground, thick like breath in winter. The trees behind were silent, waiting. Orrin walked beside , his robes brushing the wet grass. He didn’t speak much today. Maybe he knew this wasn’t just another training session.
I could feel it.
Sothing inside had changed since the last howl. I didn’t know what it was, but it pulsed in my chest—deep, steady, almost heavy. The moon had answered once. Now it was ti to call again.
But it wasn’t just the moon I felt tonight.
It was sothing else.
mories maybe.
Or pain.
I stepped into the stone circle and looked up. The moon hovered low in the sky, round and glowing. Clouds moved slow across her face, like fingers brushing silk.
Orrin stopped behind . "This ti," he said, "do not hold back."
I nodded.
My hands trembled a little as I closed my eyes. I let out a slow breath. Then I called the moon’s hum into . It ca faster now—like it was waiting. My bones tingled. My heart beat faster. I raised my head and opened my mouth.
And I howled.
The sound rose, strong and smooth. But as it climbed into the night, sothing hit .
Not from outside.
From inside.
A picture flashed in my mind.
My mother, Aira.
Running through the woods.
Her breath heavy, her face soaked with tears. She carried sothing small in her arms—. Her feet were bare, bleeding. Behind her, shadows chased. I couldn’t see what they were. Just fear and fire. And the sky above Thornridge cracking open.
The howl broke from my throat.
I gasped, choking on it. My knees hit the ground hard.
Orrin stepped forward. "What do you see?"
"I—" My voice shook. "My mom. When she fled Thornridge. I saw her."
Orrin nodded. "The First Way opened the path. Now it shows you truth."
I shook my head. "It hurts."
He crouched beside . "The past always hurts. But you must walk through it. You must howl through it. Only then will the mountains answer."
I clenched my hands in the grass, digging into the wet dirt. My breath ca in quick gasps. I had called the moon. Now the past was calling .
I stood again, unsteady. My throat still ached from the broken howl.
But I wasn’t done.
I let the hum return. Slower this ti. Softer.
I howled.
And again, visions ca.
Not of my mother this ti.
Of Nefang.
My father.
He stood alone on a cliff, looking out over Thornridge. His shoulders were slumped. His face was carved with sorrow. In his hand, he held a single silver chain. Aira’s.
He whispered sothing.
"I gave you a world. You gave silence."
He turned and walked into the forest, but his steps were slow. Heavy. The way you walk when your heart is broken and there’s no one left to see.
I dropped to a crouch, clutching my chest. Pain burned behind my ribs.
"I didn’t know," I whispered. "I didn’t know how much he hurt."
Tears stread down my face. The sound I made wasn’t a howl. It was a sob twisted into wind.
Orrin didn’t speak. He just stood still, waiting.
The moonlight touched my shoulders.
I pressed my forehead to the earth, breathing deep.
The hum still called to .
But now, I knew what I had to do.
Not just call the moon.
I had to answer the past.
I had to call back.
So I stood again. Slower this ti. My legs shook.
I looked up at the moon and let the images co. I didn’t fight them. I let the pain pour through.
I saw Darius.
In Silverglen.
Holding our pup.
Alone.
His eyes were wide and full of worry. He rocked the child gently, whispering words I couldn’t hear. The room was dark, lit only by a dying fire. The baby squird, looking around, searching—for . For her mother.
For the one who wasn’t there.
Darius touched her nose with his. A silent promise. But even in his strength, I saw it.
His fear.
He didn’t know if I’d return.
He didn’t know if I’d live.
I scread.
Not just a howl, but a full cry—raw and torn. It rose from the deepest part of , from every corner of my soul where love and guilt and hope lived together.
The sound tore into the sky.
And the sky answered.
Wind slamd through the ridge. Trees bent back. The mist flew upward in swirling columns. The silver bowl at Orrin’s feet cracked, spilling water across the stones.
The mountains roared.
A deep, rolling echo shook the earth.
I stumbled, catching myself on my knees. The sound rolled again. Not from my mouth—but from the land.
The Vale.
The cliffs.
The peaks far beyond.
They were howling back.
Orrin stepped close. His eyes glowed.
"You did it," he said. "They heard you."
I tried to speak, but my voice was gone. My throat burned. I had poured everything into that howl—my past, my fears, my love. I had nothing left to give.
But the silence that followed was full.
Alive.
Whole.
The past had answered.
And it hadn’t broken .
It had made stronger.
I curled onto the ground, wrapping my arms around myself. For a while, I just lay there, eyes closed, letting the wind blow over like the breath of the world.
I saw my mother’s face again—not crying now, but smiling.
I saw Nefang, walking the woods, but no longer bent by sorrow.
I saw Darius holding our daughter, and for the first ti, he looked up. His eyes widened. He smiled.
He had felt it too.
Sohow, across space and ti, he had heard my howl.
I opened my eyes. Orrin stood at the edge of the ridge, his back to . The wind tugged at his robes.
"The mountains speak to those who speak from truth," he said. "You called with a full heart."
I sat up slowly. "It hurt."
He nodded. "That’s how you know it was real."
I wiped my face. My hands were shaking. My voice was still missing, but I didn’t need it right now.
The mountains had answered.
And I was not alone.
Not anymore.
Orrin turned to face . "Tomorrow, we begin the Third Way."
I looked at him, tired but ready. "What is it?"
His eyes glead. "Blood and mory. Fire and frost. The trial of balance."
I nodded, heart steady.
But for tonight, I let the wind carry .
Let the past flow through , and the love I had for every soul who gave strength.
Mother.
Father.
Mate.
Child.
.
I was the howl.
And I would never fall silent again.
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