The flames outside the cave rose like summoned spirits.
They didn't crackle.
They hissed.
As if the fire itself was alive—feral and sentient, hungering for something more than fuel.
Jace sprang to his feet, claws already half-shifted, his stance wide as he moved in front of Rowan and me. "That's not rogue fire," he growled. "That's magic."
My father Thorne crouched low, sniffing the air. "Not council magic either. Older. Wilder. They're here."
I pulled Rowan against my chest. He was shivering, eyes closed, murmuring something under his breath in a voice that wasn't fully his.
"The forgotten don't sleep. The forgotten rise."
Jace turned to me. "We need to move."
But my father raised a hand. "Too late. They've already scented the boy."
A howl shattered the night sky.
It wasn't like any howl I'd ever heard.
It didn't call for a pack.
It commanded.
Five wolves stepped into the firelight—large, scarred, with wild eyes and fur that shimmered like shadows caught between moonlight and storm.
They didn't move like pack wolves.
No coordination.
No formation.
Just raw instinct.
And behind them walked a man cloaked in black.
Bare-chested, heavily marked, eyes glowing silver.
His scent hit me like rot and old blood.
But there was something else under it.
Something ancient.
He smiled at us, baring too-white teeth.
"So it's true," he said. "The vessel has awakened."
Jace snarled. "Who are you?"
"My name is Ivar. Alpha of the Broken Moon. Keeper of the Unbound."
My father's breath caught. "I thought the Unbound were just stories."
"Oh, we were," Ivar said. "Until your council hunted us. Now we've come for what's ours."
He looked at Rowan, who was limp in my arms.
"Kaelen's heir. The final thread of instinct before it was severed."
"You're not taking him," I snapped.
"You can't stop what he is," Ivar said, tilting his head. "You think he's yours. But he's all of ours. His blood belongs to the forgotten line."
Rowan stirred.
His eyes fluttered open.
And for a moment, I wasn't looking at my son.
I was looking at something older wearing my son's skin.
Rowan stood up slowly, stepping from my arms like he no longer needed them.
Jace moved fast to shield him, but Rowan lifted a hand.
Jace froze in place.
Not because he wanted to.
Because Rowan commanded it.
"I… I can't move," Jace growled through clenched teeth. "What is this?"
Rowan's voice was dual-layered, half-child, half-Alpha.
"He is not your enemy."
He pointed at Ivar.
"Not yet."
My father stepped forward, wariness in every step. "Rowan, if you're in there—fight it. You don't have to obey Kaelen's memory."
Rowan blinked.
Then, in a flash of silver light, collapsed.
I caught him before his head hit the cave floor.
The wolves growled—but Ivar raised a hand, halting them.
"Your pup isn't just waking up," he said. "He's being summoned."
Back inside the cave, we surrounded Rowan in the protection circle Thorne had drawn earlier.
He slept—peacefully now—but the magic around him pulsed like a heartbeat.
Jace stood pacing, hands on his head.
"This is spiraling out of control."
"It was never in control," Thorne muttered. "None of this is normal. None of it should be happening."
I watched Rowan's chest rise and fall.
"He knew their Alpha's name," I said. "Ivar. He recognized him. How?"
My father hesitated. "Because Kaelen's memories aren't just images. They're imprints. Experiences. They're bleeding into your son's instincts. Into his voice. Soon, they'll reach his mind."
"And then what?"
"Then… we may not get him back."
I turned to Ivar, who leaned casually against the cave wall, flanked by his monstrous wolves.
"What do you want?"
He shrugged. "Peace, eventually. Justice, perhaps. But right now? I want Rowan to remember who he is."
"He's my son."
"He's Kaelen's heir," Ivar countered. "The last blood that carries the primal bond. When he's ready, he'll restore what was broken."
"You mean start a war."
"I mean free us."
Jace stepped forward, growling. "He's not your savior."
"No," Ivar agreed. "He's his own."
The room trembled.
Rowan's body arched in the circle.
His mouth opened.
And he screamed.
Not in fear.
In power.
Light exploded from the runes, shattering the outer circle.
The wolves backed up.
Even Ivar stumbled.
Rowan floated in the air, eyes blazing gold-silver-black.
Then he spoke.
But it wasn't Rowan.
It wasn't Kaelen either.
"The one who severed me comes. The one who wears the council's crown. He brings chains and silver words. Beware the flame that wears my name."
"What the hell does that mean?" Jace asked.
My father went still. "I think… he means Garrick."
Jace's uncle.
The one who wiped his memory.
The one who may have ordered Rowan's conception.
The one who now ruled the high council of the western packs.
Rowan collapsed again, unconscious.
This time, even Thorne looked shaken.
"He's not just remembering," my father whispered. "He's prophesying."
Jace turned to me.
"Then we need to stop Garrick before he gets here."
I looked at Rowan.
And said, "No. We don't stop him."
Jace blinked. "What?"
"We let him come," I said.
Jace stared.
"You want to use Rowan as bait?"
I clenched my fists.
"I want to know why the council created him. Why they needed you to forget me. Why they wanted to control our son."
"And what if Garrick's here to finish the job?"
I met his eyes.
"Then we show him just how much power he never managed to contain."
Outside the cave, the moon bled red for the first time in a decade.
And in the shadows beyond the trees…
Garrick Thorn had already arrived.