The first snowfall came earlier than expected.
Thick flakes drifted from the sky like forgotten feathers, clinging to tree branches and blanketing the pack grounds in silence. Every sound felt muffled, every breath drawn in colder than the last. It was the kind of silence that warned of storms hiding behind beauty.
I stood at the window of the healer's cabin, hands pressed against my swollen belly, watching the world change color outside. The snow softened everything except the truth.
Lyra's attack had divided the pack further. Fear spread like wildfire. One side whispered that Kael's bloodline had been cursed, that two unborn heirs were a sign of weakness. The other side believed the children represented strength, a new chapter in the pack's legacy. But whispers, no matter how quiet, could still carve walls between people.
Kael came and went more often now. His nights were shorter, his words fewer, but the weight in his eyes grew with every hour. I didn't ask what he was doing during the missing hours. I didn't need to.
The door creaked open, and Callen entered, brushing snow from his coat.
"They're calling for a council," he said. "Tonight."
"Why?"
"They want to vote."
"On what?"
"On which child will carry the Alpha legacy."
I turned slowly. "The children aren't even born."
"They don't care. They want to settle it before blood is shed."
My breath caught in my throat. "Who called the vote?"
Callen hesitated. "Elder Dorn. He says it's for stability."
"It's for control."
He didn't disagree.
"They want a single heir to rally behind," he said. "Too many voices mean too much chaos. They're afraid."
"They should be."
I pulled on a cloak, my hands trembling.
Callen stepped in front of the door. "Are you sure you want to go?"
"This is about my child. I won't stay hidden."
The hall was full when I arrived, packed with wolves of all ranks. Even those who rarely stepped beyond the woods had come. Snow dripped from boots. Cloaks were dusted white. No one smiled.
Lyra was already there, sitting silently at the far end, a scarf wrapped around her neck. Her face was calm, but her knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the table.
Kael stood in the center, flanked by Elders Dorn and Marra.
"This is not a trial," Marra said, her voice firm. "We gather to discuss the future. No child has yet drawn breath, but the world they are born into must be shaped with clarity."
Dorn stepped forward. "The Alpha legacy cannot be shared. We've never had two heirs. A decision must be made."
Someone from the back shouted, "Let the Alpha choose!"
Kael didn't flinch.
"I won't pit one child against another," he said.
"Then you choose both," Dorn snapped.
"I choose peace."
Silence.
Marra raised her hand. "Then perhaps the mothers should speak."
I felt every gaze land on me. I stepped forward.
"My child didn't ask to be born into this war of pride and tradition," I said. "Neither did Lyra's. We should be building a world safe enough for both. Instead, you're preparing to crown one and exile the other."
"Some say you want the power for yourself," Dorn said.
"I want safety for my child. That shouldn't be a threat."
Lyra stood next. Her voice was steady. "I don't want a title. I don't want a crown. But I won't stand by while people use my unborn child to stir fear."
Kael looked between us, torn in a way that made his next words carry more weight.
"If either of you walks away, this pack will not recover. And I won't ask you to choose which one of you should carry my legacy."
Marra addressed the room. "Then we delay the vote. Until the children are born. Until the moon chooses."
The murmurs began again, but this time with a strange thread of agreement weaving through them.
"We'll wait," she said. "And let fate decide."
That night, the wind howled through the trees like wolves in mourning. I lay in bed, eyes wide open, the blanket pulled up to my chest. The baby rolled beneath my ribs, as restless as my thoughts.
Kael came in quietly, his hair damp with melted snow.
"You were brave today," he said.
"I was angry."
"You still spoke like a leader."
I turned my face away. "It's not leadership when no one listens."
He sat on the edge of the bed.
"I listened."
"You don't count."
His lips curled faintly. "Maybe I should."
A silence grew between us, thicker than before.
"You're torn," I said.
"I'm trying."
"Trying isn't always enough."
He leaned closer, his fingers brushing my wrist. "Do you think I love her?"
"I think you wanted something easy, when everything else was hard."
"And you?"
"It was never easy."
"I never wanted it easy," he said, voice low.
The baby kicked. He placed his hand on my belly. For a moment, we both just breathed.
"I want us to be whole," he whispered.
"We can't be whole when we're bleeding."
Days passed like slow-burning fuses.
Lyra rarely left her quarters. I saw her once, near the training grounds, her steps cautious but determined. The other warriors gave her space now. Respect or fear, I couldn't tell.
I went walking every morning, even when the snow was thick. Callen stayed close, keeping watch. I felt safer when he was near. Trusted. Steady.
"Do You ever regret being loyal to me?" I asked him one morning.
"Never."
"Even with all this?"
"I didn't swear loyalty to a perfect woman," he said. "I swore it to a strong one."
I smiled faintly. "Careful, Callen. You'll make me believe in good men again."
He shrugged. "Someone has to balance out the bad ones."
Trouble came again the night after the second full moon.
A warning howl echoed through the woods. Seconds later, another joined it, then another. By the time I reached the door, Kael was already running past the healer's hut.
"Stay inside," he called.
Callen didn't wait. He grabbed a cloak and followed.
I stepped outside anyway, squinting into the snowy dark. Shapes moved through the trees fast, organized.
They weren't ours.
Invaders.
From a rogue faction that had broken away years ago. Word was, they'd been gathering strength, waiting for the right time to strike. And with Kael distracted, with the pack divided, this was the time.
A scream cut through the air. Wolves clashed in the snow. Steel glinted under moonlight.
I stumbled backward, heart thundering.
Callen returned minutes later, blood on his shirt.
"They're testing our defenses," he said. "Not a full attack. Just a warning."
"For what?"
"For what's coming."
I held my stomach. The baby turned again, pushing up beneath my ribs.
"They know we're weak."
Callen didn't reply.
The next council meeting was smaller, quieter. War had a way of making people rethink grudges.
Kael stood at the front, a fresh cut on his cheek.
"They're probing us. Looking for weaknesses. We have to unify."
Dorn crossed his arms. "Then choose an heir."
"That won't save us now."
"Then what will happen?"
Kael turned to me. Then to Lyra.
"We lead together. All three of us."
Gasps.
"I never said I'd lead," Lyra said, stepping forward.
"Your child is tied to mine. Our strength is shared."
She glanced at me.
"If we're going to survive this, we don't have the luxury of pride."
Marra stepped forward. "Then it is done. Until the moon blesses one of the heirs, the pack will follow them both."
Dorn looked ready to object, but the room had already shifted. The winds had changed.
After the meeting, I found Lyra standing outside, arms crossed.
"You okay?" I asked.
She didn't look at me.
"I didn't expect this."
"Neither did I."
She finally faced me. "Do you think this will work?"
"I think we have no other choice."
She nodded.
I walked away without another word, knowing that even alliances formed in desperation could hold.
If only for a while.