The celebration continued long after Elara left.
Even as she walked through the quiet corridors of the pack house, she could still hear distant laughter drifting through the stone walls, accompanied by the occasional triumphant howl. The sounds followed her like echoes of warmth, reminding her that somewhere below, Blackridge was still celebrating.
For the first time in years, she felt exhausted for all the right reasons.
Not because she had been afraid.
Not because she had spent the day working herself to the bone.
Not because she had been fighting simply to survive.
Just because she had lived.
Her first shift had taken more from her than she realized.
Kael had noticed immediately.
"You need rest," he'd said while escorting her back toward the healer's wing.
"I'm not tired."
The look he'd given her had made it painfully obvious he wasn't convinced.
"You shifted for the first time tonight."
"I'm fine."
"You nearly collapsed afterward."
"I did not."
"You fell into a bush."
Elara had immediately looked away.
A grin had tugged at the corner of Kael's mouth.
"A very impressive bush."
She'd groaned while he looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Now, tucked beneath warm blankets, she found herself smiling despite the memory.
Moonlight spilled through her window, bathing the room in silver. Beyond the glass, the mountains stood silent and watchful beneath the stars.
Everything felt peaceful.
Safe.
For once, her mind wasn't racing toward tomorrow.
Her body gradually relaxed.
Her eyes drifted closed.
And sleep claimed her.
At first, the dream felt gentle.
Sunlight warmed her skin.
A soft breeze carried the scent of wildflowers across endless green fields. Butterflies danced above swaying grass while laughter rang through the air like music.
A little girl ran through the meadow.
Golden-brown hair bounced behind her.
Tiny feet kicked through flowers.
Her bright laughter echoed beneath the summer sky.
Elara's breath caught.
She knew that child.
The realization struck her slowly.
The little girl was her.
Young.
Perhaps five years old.
Maybe younger.
The dream shifted.
A wooden house appeared at the edge of the field.
A woman sat outside beneath the sun, humming softly while sewing.
Dark hair.
Gentle eyes.
A smile so warm it made Elara's chest ache.
The little girl raced toward her.
"Mama!"
The woman's face lit up instantly.
"My little moon."
The words pierced straight through Elara.
A sharp ache spread through her chest.
Mama.
The child launched herself into the woman's arms.
The woman laughed as she lifted her effortlessly.
Alive.
Happy.
Real.
The memory flickered.
A large hand ruffled the little girl's hair.
A man stood nearby.
Tall.
Strong.
His face remained frustratingly blurred, as though hidden behind mist.
Yet warmth radiated from him.
Safety.
Love.
"Careful, little wolf."
The child giggled.
"Dada!"
The world shattered.
Flames erupted across the sky.
The sunlight vanished.
Smoke swallowed everything.
Screams replaced laughter.
Elara staggered backward as the dream transformed around her.
Buildings burned.
Fire consumed rooftops.
The scent of blood choked the air.
Wolves howled in agony.
Children cried.
Steel clashed.
The earth trembled beneath the chaos.
The little girl appeared again.
Only now she was crying.
Terrified.
Alone.
"Mama!"
No answer.
"Dada!"
Only screams.
Panic clawed through Elara's chest.
The child ran through burning streets, stumbling over debris as tears streamed down her face.
Searching.
Begging.
Praying.
The dream lurched violently.
Images flashed like lightning.
Blood.
Silver eyes.
Fire.
A hand reaching.
Someone screaming.
Someone falling.
The little girl's desperate sobs.
Then—
A woman lay motionless among the flames.
Dark hair stained with blood.
Gentle eyes forever closed.
The same woman who had called her little moon.
Mama.
The child's scream tore through the world.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Elara bolted upright.
A ragged gasp ripped from her throat.
Her heart hammered so violently she thought it might burst.
Sweat clung to her skin despite the chill mountain air drifting through the window.
For several seconds she couldn't tell where she was.
The dream still felt real.
Too real.
The smell of smoke lingered in her mind.
The screams echoed in her ears.
Her mother's smile flashed behind her eyes.
Mama.
The word hurt.
Gods, it hurt.
Elara pressed trembling hands against her chest, fighting for breath.
The room was safe.
Quiet.
Nothing was burning.
No one was screaming.
Yet her body refused to believe it.
The images remained.
The fire.
The blood.
The woman.
Her parents.
Were they truly her parents?
Had she just witnessed memories buried for years?
Or had her mind woven together pieces of fear and imagination?
"I..." she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
The dream had felt less like a nightmare and more like a door opening.
A door she wasn't sure she was ready to walk through.
"Lyra?"
Nothing.
Elara frowned.
Normally her wolf answered immediately.
Especially when she was upset.
"Lyra?"
Still nothing.
Only silence.
Not painful.
Not empty.
Just distant.
As though Lyra had retreated deeper within her mind.
A knot formed in Elara's stomach.
After shifting, everything between them had felt stronger.
Closer.
Why was she suddenly so quiet?
She waited.
Listening.
Hoping.
Nothing.
The silence unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too warm.
Too full of shadows.
She threw the blankets aside.
"I need water."
The words sounded foolish spoken aloud.
But they gave her something solid to focus on.
Something simple.
Something real.
Carefully, she climbed out of bed.
The stone floor felt cool beneath her feet.
The corridor outside remained mostly dark, illuminated only by pale moonlight filtering through narrow windows.
The pack house had long since settled into sleep.
Only distant guards remained awake.
Elara quietly made her way toward the small kitchen near the healer's wing.
She had discovered it weeks ago.
A simple place where wolves could grab food or water without waking the entire pack.
Tonight, it felt like a sanctuary.
She poured herself a cup with trembling hands.
The cool water helped.
A little.
She took another sip.
Then another.
Trying desperately to wash away the lingering images.
Trying not to remember her mother's smile.
Trying not to hear that scream.
"You should be asleep."
Elara nearly dropped the cup.
She spun around.
Kael stood in the doorway.
A dark shirt hung loosely over his broad shoulders.
His hair was slightly disheveled, as though he had only recently left his own room.
He looked tired.
But alert.
Concern immediately sharpened his features when he saw her face.
"Elara."
His voice softened.
She realized too late that she probably looked awful.
"What happened?"
She opened her mouth.
Nothing.
I'm fine.
The familiar lie rose automatically.
But this time it wouldn't come.
Kael stepped closer.
Not rushing.
Not crowding.
Just close enough.
Moonlight spilled through the room, illuminating the concern in his silver eyes.
"You look frightened."
Something about hearing those words shattered the fragile wall she'd been holding together.
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
"I had a dream."
Kael immediately understood it was more than that.
"What kind of dream?"
Elara lowered her gaze.
"I'm not sure."
The answer sounded ridiculous.
But it was true.
"It felt..." Her throat tightened. "Real."
Kael stayed silent.
Listening.
Waiting.
Giving her room to speak.
"I saw a woman."
Her voice became smaller.
"She called me her little moon."
The words barely left her mouth before emotion surged unexpectedly through her chest.
Tears burned behind her eyes.
She hated it.
Hated how vulnerable she suddenly felt.
Kael's expression softened immediately.
Not pity.
Understanding.
"Your mother?"
Elara swallowed hard.
"I think so."
Silence settled between them.
Heavy.
Gentle.
Painful.
"I saw fire too."
Her voice trembled.
"The attack."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"I think I saw..." Her breath hitched. "I think I saw her die."
The admission shattered something inside her.
The cup rattled softly in her hands.
Before it could slip, Kael carefully took it from her.
Neither of them noticed.
Pain flashed across his face.
Not because he had witnessed the memory.
Because she had.
Because somewhere inside the woman standing before him was a terrified little girl who had watched her world burn.
A child who had lost everything.
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
Elara stared at the floor.
"What if those were memories?" she whispered.
The question hung between them.
Raw.
Terrifying.
Kael set the cup aside.
Then, very carefully, he reached for her hand.
Not forcing.
Offering.
When she didn't pull away, his fingers closed gently around hers.
Warm.
Steady.
Real.
"I think they are."
Elara's breath caught.
The answer should have frightened her.
Instead, hearing it aloud somehow made everything feel less impossible.
Kael squeezed her hand softly.
"Your mind has been protecting you for years."
She looked up.
His gaze never left hers.
"Sometimes memories return when we're finally safe enough to face them."
The words settled deep inside her chest.
Safe.
The dream hadn't come while she was trapped in Silvercrest.
It hadn't come during years of loneliness.
It had come here.
In Blackridge.
After finding Lyra.
After shifting.
After finding him.
As if some hidden part of her finally believed she could survive remembering.
The thought still frightened her.
But somehow...
It frightened her less with Kael standing beside her.
And for the rest of the night, neither of them returned to their rooms.
Instead, they remained there beneath the quiet moonlight, speaking softly while Blackridge slept around them.
And somewhere deep within the shadows of her forgotten past, buried memories slowly began to wake.