“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his voice dropping to the low register that vibrates through my bones. “Reach for our bond first. Anchor yourself in it.”
I do as he says, finding the connection between us instantly.
“Good,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “Now, keeping that anchor, extend your awareness to the water. Don’t look at it yet. Feel it.”
With eyes still closed, I reach out with my senses. The air above the pool feels different—cool but charged and alive with potential. I imagine my gift extending toward it,like fingers stretching to touch something just beyond reach.
“The Well responds to intention,” Ryker continues, his hands settling on my shoulders. “Focus on Thaddeus. On his plans for us.”
I form the image in my mind—the Grand Alpha as I last saw him at the Claiming ceremony, white hair gleaming in torchlight, face lined with cold authority. I think of his rage when Ryker claimed me, of his determination to reclaim what he considers his property.
“Open your eyes,” Ryker commands softly. “And look.”
I obey, staring as the pool’s surface transforms before me. The still water swirls, colors bleeding through its depths like ink dropped in clear glass. Images form and dissolve—too fast at first, then slowing as my focus sharpens.
“Now, step into it.”
I do as directed, the water closing over my head. For a brief moment I’m sucked down and into the deep pit where all air and life is cut off. Then I begin to float up, bursting to the surface with a short gasp.
“Okay?” Ryker asks, crouching beside the pool.
I nod, sweeping back my wet hair as I tread water. “I should have taken my clothes off first though.”
His gaze drops down to my chest. “Yes, you should have.”
I splash him, laughing before kicking my feet up until I’m on my back. Holding my head up, I ask, “What now?”
“Now lay back, close your eyes, and find what you’re looking for.”
I do as told; my eyes open as I stare up at the deep blue sky. For a while, nothing happens. I just float in the coolish water, watching as clouds slowly float by.
In the heartbeat between one moment and the next, it happens. The world tilts, and I’m sucked into a vision, a moment, a future, a present, so deeply that I cannot escape it.
Thaddeus appears, seated at a massive table surrounded by wolves I don’t recognize. Maps are spread before them, territories marked in blood-red ink. His finger traces a path through what must be Shadowmist lands, his expression cold and calculating.
“… must strike during the new moon.” His voice ripples through the vision, distorted but understandable. “When their powers are weakest.”
Another wolf leans forward—a female who’s shadowed from my view. “And the seer? She’ll see us coming.”
“Not if we use silver dust in our approach,” Thaddeus answers. “It clouds their sight. And with the new moon’s influence, her gift will be at its lowest ebb.”
The vision shifts, showing warriors gathering. Hundreds of them, from multiple packs, their fur marked with different territorial signifiers. An army being assembled, armed with silver weapons specially forged for wolf killing.
“The Shadowmist alpha dies,” Thaddeus declares to the gathered forces. “The seer returns to us for a proper cleansing. Any who resist are to be eliminated.”
Cold dread washes through me, but I force myself to keep watching, to see every detail of their planned assault. I try to memorize the routes mapped through our territory, their strategies for overcoming our defenses.
The vision blurs again, colors swirling together before resolving into a new scene. This one feels different—sharper, more immediate, as if it’s happening in real time rather than the future.
Thaddeus stands alone in an ornate chamber, staring at his reflection in a mirror much like Ryker’s scrying bowl. But it’s what I see behind him that makes my breath catch—a shadow that should not be there, moving independently of its caster.
The shadow forms into a shape—a massive wolf with eyes that glow even in the darkness. As I watch, paralyzed, the shadow-wolf lunges forward, passing through Thaddeus like smoke. But the Grand Alpha doubles over as if struck by physical force, blood trickling from his nose.
“No,” he gasps, staring at his reflection with sudden fear. “Not yet. I’m not ready.”
The mirror cracks, a jagged line splitting his reflection in two. And in that fractured glass, for just an instant, I see something else—Ryker standing over Thaddeus’s body, blood dripping from his hands, his mismatched eyes blazing with triumph and sorrow.
The vision slams shut with jarring force, throwing me up and out of the Well. I flail in midair, caught between the end of the vision and reality. Strong arms catch me, steadying me against a solid chest.
