Aurelia's POV
Relief never lasts as long as people think it will.
By the second night after the child's return, the pack had settled into a restless rhythm—too awake to rest, too grateful to argue openly, too afraid to stop watching the trees. Gratitude had turned into something sharper. Expectation edged with unease.
I felt it everywhere I went.
Some wolves bowed their heads when I passed. Others avoided my eyes entirely. A few watched me with something like calculation, as if trying to decide whether standing near me was protection or risk.
Neither answer felt safe.
The strain showed first among the warriors. Patrols doubled. Tempers shortened. Two brothers nearly came to blows over watch assignments until Talon intervened, his voice calm but carrying enough authority to end it instantly.
Fear didn't make cowards.
It made fractures.
Raffyn found me near the training ring just before dusk, pacing a line he'd already worn into the dirt.
"They're starting to look at you like a solution," he said bluntly. "Not a person."
"I know," I replied.
"And solutions get used up."
Lucien appeared a moment later, his expression tight. "The elders are arguing again. Some want you closer to the center of the pack. Others want you nowhere near it."
"Perfect," Raffyn muttered. "Divide and panic."
Talon joined us last, eyes tired but sharp. "Jarek hasn't moved his forces."
"That's what worries me," I said. "He's letting us exhaust ourselves."
Silvara emerged from the shadows near the ring, arms folded. "Pressure reveals fault lines. He's waiting to see which ones split."
Her gaze lingered on the three of them in turn.
"And so am I."
The words settled heavily.
Lucien was the first to speak. "If this is about us—"
"It is," Silvara said calmly. "And it isn't."
I looked between them, tension tightening my chest. "Say it plainly."
Silvara nodded. "Your power stabilizes through alignment. We've seen that. But alignment requires honesty."
Raffyn scoffed. "We've been honest."
"Have you?" she asked, arching a brow. "Or have you been careful?"
Silence followed.
Lucien's jaw tightened slightly. Talon's gaze dropped for a fraction of a second. Raffyn's fire flared, then dimmed.
I felt it then—subtle, uncomfortable truth pressing against my awareness.
"This isn't just about Jarek," I said slowly. "It's about what happens if this keeps going."
Silvara inclined her head. "Exactly."
She turned to me. "You're holding three anchors without naming them. That tension is manageable now. It won't be forever."
Raffyn crossed his arms. "So what? We force a choice?"
"No," Silvara replied. "You stop pretending there isn't one."
Lucien looked at me then—not pleading, not demanding. Just open.
And that was somehow harder.
"I don't know what this becomes," I admitted quietly. "I only know that whatever it is, it can't be rushed. Or used."
Talon nodded slowly. "Agreed."
Raffyn exhaled, frustration bleeding into reluctant acceptance. "Fine. But when it cracks, it won't crack gently."
"I know," I said.
A shout echoed from the western path—raised voices, sharp and angry.
Talon's head snapped up. "That's not fear."
Raffyn's fire flared. "That's accusation."
We moved quickly, finding a small knot of wolves near the supply sheds. Two elders stood rigid, a young scout between them, face flushed with anger.
"She said it herself," the scout was shouting. "Nightfall only wants her. Why should we bleed for that?"
The words landed like a blow.
I stepped forward before anyone could stop me.
"Say it again," I said quietly.
The scout turned, eyes widening when he saw me. Fear flickered—but resentment burned brighter.
"Why should we die for you?" he demanded.
The clearing went still.
I felt the magic stir—not in defense, not in threat. Just present.
"You shouldn't," I said.
Confusion rippled.
"No one should die for me," I continued. "They should fight because they choose to protect what's theirs."
The scout hesitated. "And if protecting what's ours means giving you up?"
Silence pressed in from all sides.
Lucien stiffened. Raffyn growled low. Talon watched me carefully.
I held the scout's gaze. "Then you look me in the eye and say it."
He didn't.
His shoulders sagged instead.
Silvara's voice cut through the tension. "That question will keep coming. From louder mouths. Smarter ones."
I nodded. "I know."
Night settled fully around us, heavy and uncertain.
Jarek hadn't struck again.
But something else had.
Doubt.
And I understood then—clearer than ever—that power didn't break first.
People did.