Chapter 46 Ash In Wind

“Fynn!” Jake shouts, his voice raw, fighting the tendrils, Mira’s sobs breaking through, and Elena’s gasping, her blade slipping, and Morgan’s still, too still, and I’m breaking, the black flicker winning, the chaos taking me. I look at them—my pack, my family, my heart—and I feel the maw, not pulling, but offering, a chance, a cost, and I stand, Morgan’s body in my arms, my voice steady, Warden-strong, despite the tears, the fear, the black. “I choose you,” I say, not to the forms, not to the black flicker, but to the maw, to the red, and I step forward, my light—white, gold, black—flaring, not fighting, merging, with the red, a storm of power, not balance, not chaos, but *me*, Fynn, Warden, pack. The maw opens, red light swallowing me, swallowing us, and the forms scream, their chant shattering, green veins burning, their forms dissolving, ash in the wind.