The Bells For The Fallen

LEAH DECKERI remained there for a few seconds after the words left my mouth. My fingers slowly loosened around Maria's cold hand. The room was silent.Painfully silent. The kind of silence that made every heartbeat sound loud, that settled over people when grief became too heavy for words.Slowly, I lowered her hand back onto her chest.The white cloth remained folded around her body.Peaceful, still and gone. I swallowed hard and forced myself to stand upright. My knees felt weak. My chest hurt. Yet I knew I could not remain there forever. The dead deserved mourning but the living needed strength. Slowly, I turned around.My heart immediately dropped. Everyone was staring at me.The physicians, the wounded warriors, the servants, the healers. Every single person inside that chamber, their eyes followed me. Some looked sympathetic, some looked heartbroken. Others looked stunned as if they had witnessed something they never expected. I understood why. To them I was not simply Leah.I w

When The Fires Claimed The Fallen

LEAH DECKERThe entire kingdom of Tombstone mourned that night.Dark clouds stretched across the heavens, swallowing the stars one after another until only the pale moon remained, watching from above like a silent witness to our grief. Hundreds of torches illuminated the great courtyard. Their flames danced against the cold mountain winds, casting long shadows upon stone walls that had seen generations of war, victory, loss, and sacrifice.I stood beside Marten beneath the towering pillars, surrounded by an ocean of black-clad wolves, warriors, servants, elders, and grieving families.Nobody spoke.Nobody smiled.Even the children remained quiet.Only sorrow existed.The burial horns had ceased their mournful cry, but their echoes still lingered within my heart.Rows upon rows of bodies lay before us.Some belonged to warriors who had charged into battle with roars on their lips.Some belonged to servants who had followed their masters faithfully into danger. Others belonged to wolves

Ashes Across The Northern Sea

LEAH DECKERThe mourning chants followed us long after the funeral fires had died.I could still hear them.Even after Marten had taken the burning torch from my trembling hands and led me away from the pyres, the voices of Tombstone echoed through the cold evening air."Hail, the dead.""Rest the souls of our dead."The words rolled through Tombstone like waves striking stone cliffs, solemn and powerful, carrying the grief of an entire kingdom.Marten's hand remained wrapped around mine as he drew me back from the edge of the burial grounds. I did not resist him. I did not think I had the strength to.My eyes remained fixed on the sea.The ashes of the fallen drifted upon its dark waters.Maria was among them now.Gone.Truly gone.The realization cut deeper than any blade.Marten must have sensed it because he squeezed my hand gently."They died with honor," he said quietly.I lowered my head."Honor does not make losing them easier.""No," he agreed after a long silence. "It never d

The North Has A New King

TIM HOUSTONI had never seen the throne room so restless.Even during wars.Even during coronations.The entire court had gathered before sunrise, yet no one spoke above a whisper. The tension in the room crawled beneath my skin.I sat on my throne with my elbows resting on my knees, staring at the large map spread before me. My mind had not been at peace for weeks. The strange silence inside me where my bond with Leah had once lived still haunted me.No pain.No ache.No pull.Nothing.I did not know if it meant she was dead or if fate had simply severed us forever. The doors of the throne room suddenly burst open. A messenger stumbled inside, breathing heavily."My King."Every eye turned toward him.Paul sat beside me while Mother and Debbie occupied their usual seats below the throne.The messenger bowed."I bring news from the North."No one moved.The North.Tombstone.That mysterious kingdom no one spoke about unless they wished to tell old stories."Speak," Father commanded.Th

The Name That Haunted A King

TIM HOUSTONEverything about this news shook us with tension. The morning sunlight filtered through the towering windows of Oakwood Palace, but there was little warmth within the grand throne room. This chamber that had once filled me with pride, had the threat of the Northern Alpha upon it’s shoulders.As a child, I had imagined myself ruling from the ancient throne, commanding respect and loyalty from every wolf within the kingdom. Now, seated upon the very seat I had coveted for years, I felt none of the satisfaction I had once dreamed of. The throne felt colder each passing day, heavier somehow, as though every decision, every betrayal and every regret had settled into its stone.Later in the day, I sat with one elbow resting against the arm of the throne while petitions from neighboring territories were read before me. Court Elders had been summoned again and my parents by my side, they discussed trade agreements. Merchants sought protection for their caravans. Minor disputes ov

The Kingdom At It’s Gates

MARTEN HOLLAND The days that followed the burial of our fallen wolves changed Tombstone forever.Grief still lingered within our walls. The smoke from the funeral pyres had long vanished into the skies, yet the pain remained. Every corridor, every training ground, every tower carried memories of those who had fought beside us and had not returned. Their names were still spoken in the kitchens, in the armory, and around evening fires. Tombstone mourned deeply, but Tombstone also endured. We always had.What none of us expected was what came after.News of our victory spread faster than wildfire.By the second sunrise after the war, merchants arriving from distant roads brought stories. By the third, travelers came carrying gifts. By the fifth, entire caravans had begun arriving outside our mountain walls.The world had heard of Tombstone.No.The world had heard of us.I stood atop the eastern watchtower one cold morning with Jerry at my side, staring down at the winding mountain road