Shadows Of The Pack (Aria and Knox)

Chapter Eighty Five: The Moon and Chaos

Isolde sat in her room, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind as she replayed the events of the past weeks

in her mind. The air felt heavy with the weight of her decisions, the consequences of her choices

settling like a shroud around her. The memory of that fateful night continued to haunt her, the pain of

betrayal still fresh in her heart.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the cushioned chair, allowing herself to remember that

night. The blank look in his eyes as he released her and whispered, "You are nothing to me anymore."

The knock on her door was gentle, a soft interruption to her reverie. Isolde's eyes opened, her gaze

fixing on the entrance. With a sigh, she stood and made her way to the door, her steps heavy with both

weariness and anticipation.

Opening the door, she was met with Alaric's presence, his tall figure framed by the doorway. His eyes,

wise and perceptive, locked onto hers, a silent understanding passing between them. "Isolde," he

greeted her with a nod.

She stepped aside, inviting him into the room. As he took a seat, his gaze remained fixed on her, an

intensity that spoke of the urgency of their conversation.

He looked into her eyes, his expression serious. "We need to talk about Malachi."

Isolde closed the door behind him and took a seat opposite him. Her heart weighed heavily as his

words hung in the air.

Alaric's gaze softened slightly, a hint of empathy in his eyes as he observed the emotions that played

across her features. "I know that what transpired between you and Malachi was not an easy choice,

Isolde," he began gently. "But we now face a greater challenge—a challenge that requires our

collective strength."

Isolde's gaze remained steady, her lips forming a thin line. She knew that Alaric's words held truth, that

the realm they had sworn to protect was in peril. "He's been spiraling out of control," Alaric continued,

his voice tinged with concern. "Claiming lands, inciting conflicts—it's as if his anger and resentment

have consumed him."

Isolde's heart sank at the confirmation of her fears. The Malachi she had known was fierce and

determined, but the Malachi she had loved would never have sought to bring about destruction. The

realization that his actions were fueled by pain and anger left her heart heavy with sorrow.

"We cannot afford to stand idly by," Alaric's voice held a resolute edge, his gaze locking onto hers. "If

we do not intervene, the chaos he's sowing could tear apart the delicate balance we've worked so hard

to maintain."

Isolde's fingers curled around the armrest of her chair, her knuckles white with tension. She knew that

Alaric was right, that action needed to be taken. But the thought of confronting Malachi, of facing him

after everything that had transpired scared her.

Alaric leaned forward slightly, his gaze holding hers with unwavering intensity. "Isolde, you have a

unique perspective on Malachi," he said softly. "You know him better than anyone else. Your

connection to him could be the key to reaching him, to helping him find his way back."

Isolde's eyes flickered with a myriad of emotions—pain, longing, and a fierce determination. She had

loved Malachi once, and had seen the goodness in him.

"But," Alaric's voice was tinged with caution, "it won't be easy. Malachi's anger runs deep, and his pride

may cloud his judgment. He might see any attempt to intervene as an affront."

"Alaric, I'll do whatever I can," her voice held a determined edge, her gaze unwavering. "I'll talk to him,

reason with him if I can. Our realm's future is at stake, and I won't stand by and watch it crumble."

Alaric's eyes softened, a small smile curving his lips. "I knew I could count on you, Isolde," he said, his

voice laced with gratitude. "Your strength and compassion are the pillars that hold our realm together."

He looked into her eyes, "If Malachi refuses to stop. I will be left with no choice. The Order will be

forced to take drastic actions."

*************

The moon hung high in the night sky as Isolde stepped out of the grand house that had served as the

Order's residence. Her heart pounded as she made her way through the territory that once held

familiarity, now marred by the chaos that had swept through it. The air was heavy with tension, each

rustling leaf and distant howl serving as a reminder of the turmoil that Malachi had unleashed.

Every step she took left a bitter taste in her mouth. The once-thriving lands had been transformed into

a battleground of scars and destruction. Trees stood charred and broken, their branches bearing

witness to the ferocity of the conflicts that had raged.

Isolde's eyes scanned the landscape, her heart aching. She had known Malachi as a fierce protector, a

leader who had fought to maintain the delicate balance of their realm. But the Malachi she saw now

was unrecognizable, his actions driven by a reckless desire for power and vengeance.

Approaching a group of wolves that lingered on the fringes of the territory, Isolde cleared her throat, her

voice carrying a note of authority. "I need to speak to Malachi."

One of the wolves regarded her before turning back to his original focus. Before she could ask again , a Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

presence materialized behind her. A shiver raced down her spine as she turned, coming face to face

with Malachi. His figure was imposing, his eyes like shards of ice as they bore into hers.

"You want to speak to me?" his voice was tinged with a mockery that sent a chill through her. His

expression held a distant emptiness, an eerie detachment that seemed to sever the connection they

once shared.

Isolde took a steadying breath, her heart pounding against her chest. She had braced herself for this

encounter, prepared to face the man she still loved. But the emptiness in his gaze left her with an

unsettling feeling, a sense that the Malachi she knew was no longer present.

"Yes," she replied, her voice unwavering despite the unease that gnawed at her. "We need to talk."

A humorless smile curled his lips, a sinister grin that didn't reach his eyes. "And what, pray tell, do we

have to talk about, Isolde?"

His words were like a blade, cutting through the thin veneer of civility that remained between them.

Isolde's gaze held his, her expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. "This chaos, Malachi. You

must stop."

His laughter was bitter, a harsh sound that echoed in the night. "Chaos, you say? Funny, isn't it? Chaos

is all around us, Isolde. It's the new order of things."

Her heart ached at his words, the pain of seeing him like this almost too much to bear. "This isn't you,

Malachi," she insisted, her voice tinged with desperation. "The Malachi I knew was a protector, a leader

who valued unity and balance."

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Ah, the past," he mused, his tone mocking. "Such a quaint

notion. But the past is gone, Isolde. And what's left is a realm that trembles at my name."

Isolde's fists clenched at her sides, her frustration mixing with the swell of emotions threatening to

overwhelm her. "You're causing destruction, pain. This isn't what you stand for."

A wicked smile curved his lips, a cruel twist that sent a shiver down her spine. "You think you know me,

Isolde? You think you have the right to judge? You left me, remember my side when you chose Alaric.

Betrayed me when I needed you the most."

"I only wanted to protect you from the corruption of power. You were already on that path." left to

protect the realm, Malachi. To protect you."

His laughter was devoid of warmth, a hollow sound that seemed to fill the space between them.

"Protect me? And what did you think you were protecting me from, Isolde? My destiny? My power?"

Isolde's gaze held his, her determination unyielding. "You're becoming a threat to everything you once

fought for," she said, her voice a mix of urgency and sadness. "The Order is considering intervening if

you don't stop."

Malachi's expression remained impassive, his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a chill

down her spine. "Let them try," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. "If they dare to challenge me,

they'll regret it."

Isolde's heart ached at his words, at the darkness that seemed to have consumed him.

"Malachi, please," her voice was a plea, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You're tearing apart the

realm, and I can't stand by and watch it happen."

His lips curled in a wicked grin, his eyes glinting with a malicious spark. "Then leave, Isolde. If you can't

bear to witness my rise, then you're free to go."

Sme wanted to take a step towards him but her eyes caught something and paused, "What is that on

your arm, Malachi?"