The Human Among Wolves (Aurora) novel Chapter 260

Chapter 260

Cecilia

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I wake up before the sun.

It is not unusual. The coven sleeps lightly, and so do I. The northern woods are quiet in that fragile way that only exists right before morning–no birds yet, no wind strong enough to move the branches, just the low, steady breathing of the earth beneath everything.

For a moment, I lie still on my pallet, staring up at the wooden beams above me. The air smells faintly of ash and herbs, the remnants of last night’s fire still clinging to the walls. My magic hums quietly under my skin, balanced and restless the way it always is when I wake. Fire warms my chest. Water settles my breathing. Earth anchors my limbs. Air brushes my thoughts awake.

All four. Always all four.

I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, feet touching the cold stone floor. The chill seeps in immediately, grounding me. I welcome it. Balance comes easier when I let the world touch me first.

Outside, the coven is already stirring. Soft footsteps. A murmured greeting. Someone coughing awake. I pull on my boots and a simple tunic, braid my long blond hair down my back, and step outside.

Mist curls low between the trees, pale and thin like breath. The coven huts are scattered in a loose circle around the central fire pit, built from wood and stone and generations of quiet magic. This place has always been my home. The northern woods know me. They bend when I ask them to, and only sometimes push back.

I move toward the fire pit and begin preparing breakfast without thinking much about it. A small flame sparks to life in my palm as I kneel, coaxing the embers awake. I set water to boil, grind dried roots with practiced motions, and tear bread from yesterday’s loaf.

“Morning,” a voice says behind me.

I glance over my shoulder. Seraphina is standing there, arms crossed loosely, dark hair falling over her shoulders.

“Morning,” I say. “You’re up early.”

She snorts. “You always are.”

I smile faintly and hand her a cup of tea once it’s ready. She takes it eyes flicking toward the baskets stacked near the edge of the

clearing.

Her mouth tightens.

“What?” I ask.

“We’re out,” she says.

I pause. “Out of what?”

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Chapter 260

She nods toward the baskets. “The frostbloom.”

I straighten slowly. “That’s not possible. I harvested enough to last us at least another month.”

“Not if three potions went wrong last night,” she says flatly. “And not if the council insists on doubling the ward tonics.”

I close my eyes briefly and exhale.

Frostbloom only grows in one place.

The eastern woods.

“I’ll go,” I say immediately.

Seraphina’s gaze sharpens. “Cecilia-”

“I’ll go,” I repeat. “It’s my responsibility. I can be back before nightfall if I don’t stop.”

“You know what lives in the east,” she says quietly.

“Yes,” I answer. “I do.”

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The eastern woods are not ours. They never have been. They belong to wolves. Lycans. Predators who do not like witches crossing

their land, and who have made that very clear over the years.

But frostbloom does not care about borders.

“I’ll be careful,” I say, standing. “I always am.”

Seraphina studies my face for a long moment. Then she sighs. “At least take a blade.”

“I won’t need it.”

“That’s not the point.”

I take the blade anyway.

The trip takes hours.

The northern woods thin gradually, the air shifting as I move farther east. The ground grows harder beneath my boots. The trees

change–taller, denser, their branches reaching overhead like ribs closing in. My magic adjusts instinctively. Earth stiffens. Air

sharpens. Fire dims. Water stays quiet, alert.

By the time I reach the edge of the eastern woods, the sun is high and my shoulders ache from walking.

I pause.

The forest in front of me feels different. Not hostile exactly–but watchful. Like something breathing slowly, waiting to see what I

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Chapter 260

will do.

“I won’t be long.” I murmur, more to the woods than to anyone else.

I step inside.

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The frostbloom grows near a narrow stream, hidden beneath shadowed rocks where cold water keeps the roots alive. I find it easily.

Too easily. That should have been my first warning.

I kneel, careful as I loosen the soil, whispering a soft earth–binding spell to keep the plant intact. The frostbloom’s pale petals

shimmer faintly as I lift it free.

That is when the forest goes silent.

Not gradually.

Instantly.

Every instinct I have screams.

I rise slowly, frostbloom clutched in one hand, blade in the other. The air feels heavy now, pressed tight against my skin.

Then I hear it.

A low growl.

It rolls through the clearing, deep and powerful enough to vibrate in my chest. The sound is not close–but it is not far either.

I turn.

The wolf steps out from between the trees.

He is enormous.

Bigger than any wolf I have ever seen, even at a distance. His coat is black, thick and dark as night, with streaks of deep charcoal along his shoulders and spine. His eyes are a piercing silver, sharp and intelligent, locked directly onto me. Every muscle in his body moves with controlled strength, paws silent against the forest floor despite his size.

A prince.

I know it immediately. Not a king–not yet–but royalty all the same. Power clings to him like a second skin.

He stops a few yards away, head low, gaze never leaving mine.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

The voice is human.

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I blink.

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In one smooth, impossible motion, the wolf shifts.

Bones move beneath skin, stretching and reshaping with a sound that makes my stomach flip. Fur recedes. The massive form rises

onto two legs. When it is done, a man stands where the wolf was.

Naked

Tall. Broad–shouldered. Black hair falling around his face in sharp contrast to pale skin. His eyes are still silver, burning with the

same intensity as before.

He does not bother to cover himself.

“You really shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, voice low and edged with rritation.

I lift my chin. “Neither should you.”

His brows draw together. “This is my land.”

“And the frostbloom grows where it pleases,” I reply evenly. “I’m not here to hunt. Or steal. I’m here to survive.”

His gaze flicks to the plant in my hand. Then back to my face.

“A witch,” he says, as if tasting the word. “Of course.”

“And you’re a wolf who doesn’t know how to announce himself,” I say. “Of course.”

A humorless smile tugs at his mouth. “You walked into eastern territory alone. That makes you either brave or stupid.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m both,” I say calmly.

He studies me for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

I hesitate only a second. “Cecilia.”

Something shifts in his expression. Not recognition. Something closer to curiosity.

“I’m Theron,” he says. “And you’re trespassing.”

I meet his gaze without flinching. “Then stop me.”

The air between us tightens, charged and dangerous.

Neither of us moves.

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The Human Among Wolves