Fated Mate to the Triplet Alpha-Chapter 11: Silver Flames and Shadows

The pack house buzzed with tension as healers rushed to treat Ronan. His wounds were deep—claw marks that wouldn’t stop bleeding despite their best efforts.

"Will he be okay?" Elara asked Luna Evelyn, who emerged from Ronan’s room with bloodstained hands.

"The wounds resist healing," she admitted, her face drawn with worry. "Whatever attacked him wasn’t natural."

Kael paced the hallway, his jaw tight. "We need to find the real Darian."

"If he’s still alive," Alpha Marcus growled, appearing at the end of the hall. His eyes narrowed when he saw Elara. "You. What have you done?"

"She saved herself," Kael said, stepping between them. "The creature pretending to be Darian would have killed her."

Alpha Marcus’s face darkened. "And now my son is missing, another is dying, and she’s suddenly glowing with silver power. Convenient, isn’t it?"

"I didn’t ask for any of this," Elara shot back, her new confidence surprising even herself.

"Father," Kael warned, "this isn’t helping."

The Alpha glared at both of them. "Fix this. Find my son." He stalked away, leaving a heavy silence behind him.

Luna Evelyn touched Elara’s shoulder gently. "You should rest. Your powers are new—they’ll drain you quickly."

But sleep wouldn’t come. Hours later, Elara tossed in bed, her mind racing with questions. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the creature’s face as it shifted from Darian’s handsome features to something ancient and terrifying.

Finally, she gave up. The moon hung high in the midnight sky as she slipped out to the training yard behind the pack house. Silver light still flickered beneath her skin, making her fingers tingle.

"If I’m going to fight monsters," she muttered, "I should learn how."

She picked up a training staff and swung it awkwardly. The weapon felt strange in her hands, but something inside her—something that had awakened with the breaking of the pendant—seemed to recognize it.

Elara closed her eyes and let instinct guide her. The staff twirled faster, cutting through the air with growing confidence.

"Your stance is wrong."

Elara spun around, nearly dropping the staff. Kael stood at the edge of the yard, watching her with those intense eyes.

"You scared me," she gasped.

"Sorry." He didn’t sound sorry at all. "But if you’re going to train, do it right."

He approached slowly, as if afraid to startle her. "Ronan woke up. He’s asking for you."

Relief flooded through her. "He’s okay?"

"Not yet," Kael admitted. "But he’s fighting." He nodded toward the staff in her hands. "So are you, apparently."

Elara gripped the weapon tighter. "I’m tired of being helpless."

Something flickered across Kael’s face—respect, maybe. "Your feet are too close together. Spread them wider for balance."

She adjusted her stance.

"Better," he approved. "Now, when you swing, use your whole body, not just your arms."

He demonstrated the motion, his movements fluid and powerful. Elara tried to copy him but stumbled.

"Here." Kael moved behind her, his chest against her back as he guided her arms through the swing. "Like this."

His touch sent warmth spreading through her body, the mate bond humming between them despite everything. Elara swallowed hard and focused on the lesson.

For an hour, they trained in silence, the only sounds their breathing and the swish of the staff through night air. Gradually, Elara’s movements became smoother, more confident.

"Why are you helping me?" she finally asked during a water break. "You made it clear I’m not Luna material."

Kael stared at the moon. "I was wrong."

"Just like that?"

"No," he admitted. "Not just like that. I’ve been wrong for weeks. But I was too stubborn to admit it."

Elara waited, sensing there was more.

"The night you arrived," he continued, "I had a vision. You standing in silver flames while everything around you burned. I thought it meant you would destroy the pack." He looked at her directly now. "I was trying to protect everyone by pushing you away."

"And now?"

"Now I’m not sure what the vision meant," he said. "But I know what the fake Darian was, and it’s worse than I feared."

"What was it?" Elara asked, dread pooling in her stomach.

"A skin-walker," Kael explained. "Ancient enemies of werewolves. They steal forms, memories... lives."

Elara remembered the creature’s unnatural movement, the way it had seemed to flicker between shapes. "How long do you think...?"

"I don’t know," Kael admitted, his voice tight with pain. "Weeks? Months? Years? We shared everything with it, thinking it was our brother."

"The real Darian could still be alive," Elara said, trying to sound hopeful.

Kael’s eyes hardened. "If he is, we’ll find him. If not..." He left the thought unfinished.

They resumed training, but Kael’s movements were fiercer now, driven by anger and worry. Elara struggled to keep up.

"Enough," she finally gasped, muscles burning. "I need a break."

As she lowered the staff, something cold brushed against her mind—a presence that wasn’t her own. Elara froze.

"What’s wrong?" Kael asked, noticing her sudden stillness.

"Something’s here," she whispered. "I can feel it."

Kael scanned the yard, his body tense. "I don’t see anything."

The feeling grew stronger—like icy fingers probing her thoughts. Elara clutched her head, silver flames flickering across her skin.

"It’s in my mind," she gasped.

Kael gripped her shoulders. "Fight it, Elara. Your power is stronger now."

She closed her eyes, concentrating on pushing the cold presence away. The silver flames brightened, spreading down her arms.

You can’t hide from me, whispered a voice in her head. I’ve waited too long.

"Get out!" Elara shouted, the silver fire suddenly exploding outward.

The blast knocked Kael backward. He landed hard several feet away as the flames formed a protective circle around Elara.

From the shadows stepped a figure—not the fake Darian, but someone else. A woman with hair like midnight and eyes that shimmered with malice.

"Celeste?" Elara whispered in confusion.

The woman smiled, but it wasn’t Celeste’s smile. It was older, crueler.

"Try again, silver eyes," she said in a voice that didn’t belong to the Beta’s daughter.

Kael scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with shock. "Mother?"

Luna Evelyn stepped fully into the light, but there was nothing motherly about her now. Her elegant features were twisted with hatred as she stared at Elara.

"Not quite," she said. "Though I’ve enjoyed wearing her skin these past eighteen years."

Elara’s blood turned to ice. "You’re another skin-walker."

"The first," the creature corrected. "The queen. And you, little moon child, have something that belongs to me."

The silver flames around Elara pulsed brighter. "What could I possibly have that you want?"

"Power," the false Luna hissed. "The power to break the curse that binds me to this weak form."

Kael shook his head in denial. "No. You can’t be. My mother—"

"Your mother died the night the Moonstone Pack was destroyed," the creature said coldly. "Just as this one’s mother did."

Elara felt like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet. "My mother was the Luna of the Moonstone Pack," she whispered, remembering Tobias’s words.

"Yes," the skin-walker queen smiled. "And I am the one who tore her throat out while she begged for your life."

Rage surged through Elara, the silver flames leaping higher. "Where is the real Luna Evelyn? Where is Darian?"

"Dead, of course," the creature said dismissively. "Though one of my children did enjoy playing the role of your precious third mate."

Kael lunged forward with a roar of fury, but the skin-walker waved a hand and sent him flying into the wall of the pack house.

"Your father will be joining them soon," she continued calmly. "Once I have your power, I won’t need this pack anymore."

Elara gripped the staff tighter, her knuckles white. "You’ll have to take it from me."

The skin-walker’s smile widened. "Gladly."

She moved with impossible speed, crossing the yard in a blur. Elara swung the staff instinctively, remembering Kael’s instructions—whole body, not just arms.

The wood connected with the creature’s side, sending her stumbling. The skin-walker hissed in pain as silver flames transferred from the staff to her body, eating through her disguise.

For a moment, Elara glimpsed the monster beneath—ancient, scaled, with too many teeth.

"You’ve learned some tricks," the creature snarled. "But not enough."

She raised her hands, and the shadows around the yard seemed to thicken and move. They twisted into shapes—wolves with red eyes like the one that had attacked Ronan.

"Let’s see how you fight when outnumbered," the skin-walker queen laughed.

The shadow wolves circled Elara, their movements silent and unnatural. She backed up, staff held defensively before her.

"Kael!" she called, but he lay motionless where he had fallen.

One wolf lunged. Elara swung, connecting with its jaw. The creature dissolved into smoke, only to reform moments later. freewebnσvel.cѳm

"They can’t be killed," the skin-walker taunted. "They are made of night itself."

Another wolf attacked from behind. Teeth tore into Elara’s shoulder before she could turn. She cried out in pain, dropping to one knee.

The skin-walker approached slowly, savoring her victory. "Your mother had that same look in her eyes before she died—all that power, wasted on someone too weak to use it."

Blood ran down Elara’s arm, but with it came clarity. The pendant hadn’t given her power—it had unlocked what was already there. What had her mother written? One brother loves with his heart, one loves with his mind, and one loves with his soul.

Heart. Mind. Soul.

"I am not weak," Elara said, rising to her feet. The silver flames spread from her body to the staff, transforming the wood into something else—something that gleamed like moonlight made solid.

The skin-walker’s confident smile faltered. "What are you doing?"

Elara didn’t answer. She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, searching for the bonds that tied her to the brothers. One burned bright and strong—Ronan, still fighting for life inside the pack house. Another fainter, but true—Kael, unconscious but alive.

And a third, distant and dim, but unmistakably there.

Darian. The real Darian. Still alive.

Her eyes snapped open, blazing silver. "You lied. He’s not dead."

Fear flashed across the false Luna’s face. "Impossible. No one survives the pits."

"Ronan survived your pet," Elara countered. "And Darian survived you."

She lifted the transformed staff. The shadow wolves backed away, whimpering.

"This ends now," Elara declared, her voice ringing with power.

The skin-walker snarled and launched herself forward, hands twisted into claws.

Elara met her attack head-on, the staff connecting with the creature’s chest. Silver light exploded between them, throwing the skin-walker backward.

For a moment, Elara thought she had won. Then she noticed the dark blood seeping from her own wound was turning black, spreading through her veins like poison.

"What have you done to me?" she gasped, the staff slipping from her suddenly numb fingers.

The skin-walker rose, her disguise falling away completely now. In place of Luna Evelyn stood a creature of nightmare—tall and skeletal, with skin like ash and eyes like bottomless pits.

"Insurance," it hissed through rows of needle teeth. "If I can’t have your power, no one will."

Darkness crept into the edges of Elara’s vision. She fought to stay standing, but her legs gave way.

As she fell, strong arms caught her. Kael had regained consciousness, his face pale with shock and rage as he stared at the monster wearing his mother’s skin.

"The poison works quickly," the skin-walker queen said, retreating into the shadows. "By dawn, she’ll be mine to control. A puppet with all that lovely silver power."

"I’ll kill you," Kael promised, his voice deadly calm.

The creature laughed. "You can try. But first, you’ll have to choose—save her, or find your brother. You don’t have time for both."

With those words, she vanished completely, taking the shadow wolves with her.

Elara struggled to breathe as the poison burned through her body. "Kael," she whispered, "Darian is alive. I felt him."

"Don’t talk," he ordered, lifting her into his arms. "We need to stop the poison."

"Only one person can help," came a weak voice from the pack house doorway.

Ronan stood there, leaning heavily against the frame, his bandaged chest stained with fresh blood from the effort of getting up.

"We need to find Tobias," he continued grimly. "He’s the only one who knows how to fight skin-walkers."

Kael looked down at Elara, whose silver eyes were dulling as the poison spread. Then he looked at his injured brother.

"There’s no time to find him," Kael said, desperation in his voice. "She’ll be gone by dawn."

"Then we bring him to us," Ronan said, holding up what looked like a small bone whistle. "This was hidden in my room. I think the real Darian left it...before."

Elara’s vision blurred as the brothers argued about whether to trust the whistle. The poison had reached her chest now, each heartbeat sending waves of agony through her body.

As darkness claimed her, one thought remained clear—somewhere out there, the third brother was waiting. And somehow, she had to survive long enough to find him.