The air in the Black Ridge Territory didn't just turn cold when the moon hit its apex; it turned thin, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.
Elara stood at the edge of the Frost-Line, the physical boundary where the pack's protection ended and the Dead Woods began. Most wolves in the North Star Pack feared the dark, but Elara was different. She was a "Null"—a wolf who had never shifted, a girl with no scent and no status. To the Alpha, she was a burden. To the rest of the pack, she was a ghost.
But tonight, the ghosts were calling back.
A sound pierced the silence. It wasn't the deep, chest-thumping bay of a territorial Alpha, nor was it the mournful cry of a lone omega. It was high-pitched, vibrating with a metallic, celestial frequency that made the marrow in Elara's bones ache.
It was the Shent Howl.
The legends spoke of it as the "Spirit Cry"—the moment a wolf's soul transcends the physical body to claim a mate from the stars. It was a death sentence for the weak and a god-like ascension for the strong.
"You shouldn't be out here, Elara."
The voice was like grinding stones. Elara spun around, her breath hitching. Standing in the shadows of a towering cedar was Shen.
He wasn't the Alpha of her pack, but he was the man the Alpha feared most. Shen was an outcast, a warrior from the old bloodlines who lived in the ruins of the mountain temple. They called him "The God-Eater" because his wolf was rumored to be twice the size of a natural beast, with eyes that burned like dying suns.
"I heard it," Elara whispered, her voice trembling. "The howl. It sounded like... like it was coming from inside my own head."
Shen stepped into the moonlight. He was shirtless despite the sub-zero temperatures, his bronze skin etched with silver scars that seemed to glow. His hair was as black as a raven's wing, falling over eyes that were currently a haunting, luminous gold.
"That's because it was," Shen said, his voice dropping to a dangerous prowl. He moved toward her with a predatory grace that made Elara's heart hammer against her ribs. "The Shent Howl isn't a sound, little wolf. It's a beckoning. It's the spirit world demanding a price."
"What price?"
Shen stopped inches from her. The heat radiating off his body was intense, a sharp contrast to the biting wind. He reached out, his calloused thumb brushing the line of her jaw. The moment his skin touched hers, a spark of white light flared between them. Elara gasped, her knees buckling.
Images flashed through her mind: a white wolf standing on a mountain of glass, a crown of thorns, and a blood-red moon.
"The price is your soul," Shen growled, his golden eyes darkening with a mixture of hunger and regret. "You've spent nineteen years thinking you were a Null. Thinking you were nothing. But the spirit realm doesn't howl for nothing."
Behind them, in the distance, the pack house bells began to chime—an alarm. The Alpha's guards were coming. They had heard the Shent Howl too, and they knew what it meant. In the North Star Pack, any wolf touched by the spirit-curse was to be executed before they could turn.
"They're coming for me," Elara realized, the cold finally sinking in. "They think I'm a monster."
"Are you?" Shen asked, his grip on her jaw tightening slightly, forcing her to look at him. "Or are you just the only thing in this forest worth fighting for?"
The howling started again, but this time, it came from the woods behind Shen. A dozen pairs of glowing eyes emerged from the darkness—the Shadow-Guard, Shen's personal pack of outcasts. They didn't look like wolves; they looked like smoke and silver, shifting between forms as if the laws of physics didn't apply to them.
"The Alpha wants your head because he knows what you'll become when you finally shift," Shen said, his voice rising above the wind. "You won't be a Luna. You'll be a Goddess of the Hunt. A Shent."
"I don't know how to do that," Elara cried, tears blurring her vision. "I don't even have a wolf!"
"You have me," Shen countered. Suddenly, he grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against his chest. "Listen to the howl, Elara. Don't fight it. Let it break you. Only when you're broken can the spirit fit inside."
As the first silver arrow from the pack's hunters whistled through the air, Shen didn't flinch. He didn't shift into a wolf. Instead, he opened his mouth and let out a roar that shattered the nearby ice. It wasn't a roar of anger; it was the second half of the melody Elara had heard earlier.
The two sounds met in the air, weaving together into a terrifying, beautiful harmony. The Shent Howl was complete.
The ground beneath them began to crack. A blinding blue light erupted from the earth, swallowing Elara and Shen whole just as the hunters reached the clearing. When the light faded, the Frost-Line was empty. All that remained was a single white wolf hair and the lingering scent of pine, rain, and something ancient.
Elara was gone. The Null was dead.
And in the high peaks of the mountains, a new queen was screaming her first breath into the world