“Do you mean that Olivia killed her?” Vladimir’s voice was barely controlled, his expression the darkest anyone had ever seen.

Though Voren took his good looks from his father, the stress of this whole revelation from the past few weeks had inexplicably aged the man ten years. Deep lines carved his face, and his eyes held a grief that seemed bottomless.

Olivia had confessed everything and they knew it was impossible for her to have lied to them.

“Not exactly.” The shaman’s response came slowly, her ancient gaze fixed on all the new faces. Voren had left out the elders for now, focusing on his young leaders—those who would carry the pack’s future on their shoulders.

“There are things your mother herself never knew. But the night she made the solemn vow to give her life for yours, her destiny was rewritten.”

They hung on her words like their last breath, never making a sound for fear she might begin her riddles again.

This was the first time the shaman was speaking without riddles, without cryptic messages that required hours of interpretation, and they wanted it to continue.

The air in the cave was thick with anticipation, the candlelight flickering across their faces.

“I so desired for Sera to be here because a part of this revolves around her.”

Seraphine froze when every gaze pinned on her, the weight of their attention pressing down like a physical force. But Voren pulled her possessively into his arms, his grip firm and protective.

It was clear that no matter what, he was sticking to his wife, that no revelation would change his devotion to her.

“The black wolf, due to its power and strength, could only be birthed with a painful sacrifice.” The shaman’s voice was soft but carried absolute authority. “He was the first to carry such immense power. There is more, but those details would be revealed during the Blood Moon festival.”

Though they wanted to know it sooner, the blood moon festival was close and the least they could do was put things in the right perspective.

The shaman paused, her eyes growing distant, before continuing. “Oriana did not have a strong wolf, but she was brave. Love was her strength, and that love she used to overshadow the pain of birthing the black wolf. Though she knew she was going to die, the moon goddess meant to reward her with another wolf to keep her alive. That was a supposed to be a surprise, but the transition was supposed to take seventy-two hours.”

Her gaze swept across the assembled faces, ensuring they understood the gravity of her words.

“Unfortunately, she was pronounced dead and shipped off to another pack before her new wolf could be ready. That wolf would have given her the life she gave to Voren, but it never happened. So her soul was trapped between our world and the ethereal realm.”

Vladimir’s fury erupted, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. If only he wasn’t too pained by Oriana’s decision to give her life and stayed by her side, none of this would have happened.

“Why didn’t you say something? All these years, why did you let me believe she was gone?”

The shaman’s voice sharpened, her eyes flashing. “I didn’t know by then. All of this was only revealed to me after my long meditation in preparation for the Blood Moon festival. The veil between worlds grows thin, and the spirits speak more clearly. Your wife’s spirit has been crying out for decades, but only now could I hear her.”

“So my mother isn’t dead?” Voren’s voice carried complicated emotions—hope warring with caution, longing with fear.

The combination made the shaman sigh, her ancient shoulders sagging under the weight of her knowledge. Her long silver hair and white clothes gave her a different look from those seated around her.

No one knew her age, but they knew she was older than each and every one of them. She had watched generations rise and fall, had seen countless dramas unfold.

“Yes.” The shaman nodded slowly. “But because her soul has been trapped for over thirty years, the options of bringing her back are quite dicey.” She held up her fingers, counting off the possibilities.

“We can complete her journey and send her to the ethereal realm, where she can finally find peace. Or we can restore things as before, bring her back to the living.”

“I want her back.” Vladimir’s voice was immediate, fierce. “I want my wife back.”

“Me too.” Voren added his voice to his father’s, his tone just as determined. “I want to know my mother.”

However, the shaman shook her head sadly, her eyes filled with ancient wisdom and compassion. “It won’t be easy, father and son. Sacrifices must be made. The balance of life and death is not something we can disrupt without consequence.”

“I don’t mind what it takes.” Voren said solemnly, his voice absolute. “If you can wake her, then please do so. Whatever the cost, whatever the sacrifice, I will pay it.”

The shaman closed her eyes, her face going slack as she entered a trance. No one dared to speak anymore. They knew she was communicating with the ethereal realm, her consciousness reaching across the veil that separated the living from the dead. The silence stretched, thick and expectant.

When her eyes opened, they were loaded with complication. Her gaze met each of them in turn, weighing their resolve.

“You have to understand that due to Oriana’s being trapped in both worlds, and living in a coffin for the past thirty years, she can never be the same as before.” Her voice was heavy with warning. “She will have changed. The experience has marked her soul.”

Vladimir closed his eyes, his mind in deep thoughts. His hands trembled slightly at his sides, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. “Share the pros and cons,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need to know everything before I choose.”