Snow blanketed the land like a hush after a scream.
Elara stood on the stone balcony outside the lodge, arms wrapped around herself, eyes fixed on the moon above. It was nearly full now, and its light soaked into her skin like a gentle fire. Her mark tingled beneath the surface—no longer just a symbol, but a force that pulsed with purpose. Something inside her was shifting.
Behind her, the door creaked open.
"You shouldn't be alone."
She didn't turn. She knew Kael's voice like she knew her own breath. It was raw tonight, quiet in a way that made her chest ache.
"I'm not," she whispered. "Not really."
Kael stepped beside her, silent for a moment as he followed her gaze to the sky. "They're afraid," he said finally. "The pack. The council. Even the trees feel quieter."
Elara nodded. "They should be."
He looked at her, really looked. Her hair tangled from wind and battle. The edge of a bandage peeking from beneath her sleeve. And her eyes… fierce, tired, glowing.
"You don't have to carry all of this alone."
"But I do," she said softly. "It's my mark. My prophecy. My fight."
Kael's hand reached out, hesitating before resting against her back. "Then let me carry the parts that break you."
The words cracked something inside her.
She turned to him, the space between them narrowing. "What if I lose myself to this?" she asked. "What if I become something like him?"
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're still asking that question."
They stood in silence, the world around them still. Elara wanted to believe him. But there was a voice in the back of her mind now—deep, malevolent, whispering in her sleep.
She hadn't told anyone that yet.
A howl pierced the night.
Kael's head snapped up. "That wasn't one of ours."
Another howl answered. Then another. Elara's body reacted before her thoughts caught up—her pulse surged, her muscles tensed. The rogues were back.
But this time, they weren't hiding.
This was a declaration.
Kael and Elara raced down the corridor together, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone, his stride silent and smooth despite the urgency. The howls were still echoing—low, guttural, and wrong.
By the time they reached the main hall, half the pack was already assembled. Warriors stood at attention, armor being strapped on, weapons handed out, though most relied on fang and claw. Daria was at the center, murmuring to a glowing crystal cupped between her hands.
"They're circling," she said as they approached. "Three groups, coming from the north, west, and south. Nothing from the east."
Kael frowned. "East leads into the Deepwood. They'd have to be insane to try that path."
"Or they're trying to corner us," Elara muttered.
Velana, the elder seer, stepped forward. Her eyes were milky with age but sharp as ever. "There is something else," she said. "The forest spoke tonight. The wards we placed along the border—some of them have gone dark. Not destroyed. Swallowed."
Elara's blood chilled. "Swallowed?"
Velana nodded. "By shadow. Not flame. Not fang. Magic."
Elara exchanged a look with Kael. "This is him. He's testing the borders. Wearing us thin before he shows his face."
"And what do we do?" someone called out. "Wait for him to walk through the front gates?"
"No," Elara said firmly. "We go to him."
The room quieted.
Kael's brow furrowed. "You mean to confront the rogues out there?"
"No. I mean we find the source of the darkness. The Black Fang is feeding them his power. If we cut the thread, we cut the strength they borrow."
Velana gave a slow, approving nod. "Dangerous. But bold. The kind of choice a Moon-touched might make."
Elara turned to Daria. "I need you to trace the broken wards. Can you find where the magic thins?"
"I can try," Daria said. "But it'll be a beacon—he'll know I'm looking."
"Let him," Elara replied. "He already knows I'm coming."
---
An hour later, Elara stood at the edge of the woods once again—Kael at her side, Daria close behind, and two of the pack's most trusted scouts moving silently ahead. The snow was thinner here, the air colder. The moon was veiled now, mist crawling across its face.
Daria's magic shimmered around her, lighting the forest floor in strands of silver. "The thread leads east," she murmured. "Into the Deepwood."
Kael stiffened. "That's forbidden territory. The last Alpha who ventured into the Deepwood never came out."
Elara's voice was steady. "Then I guess we'll be the first."
They moved as a unit, slipping between ancient trees whose bark bled sap that shimmered unnaturally in the moonlight. The further in they traveled, the quieter everything became. No birds. No wind. Even the scent trails twisted and vanished.
After an hour, they reached a glade.
In the center stood a stone altar—old, moss-covered, and cracked down the middle. Symbols pulsed faintly along its surface.
Elara's mark began to burn.
She staggered, catching herself on a nearby tree. The pulse was stronger here, like a heartbeat deep within the earth responding to hers.
"He's been here," she said through clenched teeth.
Suddenly, the scouts snarled.
From the trees, figures emerged. Five of them. Cloaked, robed, and wearing half-wolf masks carved from bone. Their eyes were empty sockets filled with black flame.
Kael stepped in front of Elara, his voice a low growl. "Who are you?"
One figure stepped forward. It removed its mask slowly—revealing not a rogue, but a man.
Older. Pale. And marked with the same crescent moon on his chest that Elara bore.
Only his was reversed—facing downward.
"I am Fenric," he said, his voice smooth and echoing like the wind through the grave. "First-born of the Black Fang. And sister, I've been waiting for you."
Elara's breath caught.
"Sister?"
She stared at the man—Fenric—searching for some hint of truth, some thread of recognition. But his face was unfamiliar. Cold. Like stone carved from the darkest mountain.
"That's not possible," she said, voice hoarse. "I don't know you."
"But I know you." Fenric stepped closer, slow and deliberate. "I knew you the moment the moon marked your birth. You are the light... and I, the shadow. Twins, born of the same blood under divided skies."
"Liar," Kael growled, stepping between them, claws half-shifted.
"I speak only what the moon has already written," Fenric said, eyes glowing faintly with unnatural fire. "Ask your elders. Ask the stars. The truth was hidden from you, but your blood sings it now."
Elara's mark was burning, glowing faintly through her tunic. It pulsed in rhythm with the symbols on the altar.
Daria stepped beside her, her expression tight with disbelief. "This… could explain everything. The duality of the prophecy. Light and dark. Moon and fang."
"No," Elara snapped, but her voice wavered. "He's using old stories to confuse us."
Fenric tilted his head, almost pitying. "Do you know why the Black Fang was banished? It wasn't because he was evil. It was because he refused to kneel. The Moon Goddess feared his power—our power. So she split it between us. One to the dark, one to the light."
He raised a hand toward her. "But the split can be healed. We were meant to rule together, Elara. Not as enemies. As balance."
Elara stepped back.
A part of her wanted to believe him. Wanted the answers. Wanted to fill the hollow that had echoed since she was a child, wondering where she came from.
But another part—stronger, steadier—remembered the taste of corrupted blood. The rogues he sent. The death they brought.
"You kill to spread your 'balance,'" she said. "You poison what you touch."
Fenric's hand dropped. "Because I've been alone. Broken. But with you—"
He never finished the sentence.
Kael lunged forward with a snarl.
The clearing exploded into motion. The masked figures drew wicked blades that hissed with dark enchantments. Kael met the first with a thunderous clash, his claws raking through shadowy robes. Daria shouted a spell that lit up the trees, casting sigils in the air that slammed into one of the cultists, throwing him into the altar.
Elara shifted, bones reshaping, fur tearing through skin, her wolf bursting free with a howl of silver flame.
Fenric didn't move. His eyes glowed brighter, and with a wave of his hand, he summoned a storm of black wind that shattered the trees around them. The wind struck Elara mid-leap, tossing her aside like a leaf.
She rolled, dazed, bones aching.
"You're not ready," Fenric said calmly, walking toward her. "But you will be. When the moon bleeds and the veil falls, you'll remember who you are."
Daria screamed something from behind, and a blinding surge of light erupted between Elara and Fenric. He hissed and shielded his eyes, stumbling back.
"Elara! Now!" Kael roared.
She forced herself up, shifting back, her energy waning.
Daria grabbed her arm, and Kael threw a protective ward behind them with his bloodied claws. They ran, limbs burning, hearts thundering, the sounds of dark magic shrieking behind them.
They didn't stop until the trees began to thin and the snow began to fall again.
Only when they reached the outer wards of the lodge did they collapse to the ground, panting.
Elara clutched her side, her fingers brushing her mark.
She didn't speak.
She couldn't.
Because deep inside her, something was stirring—some memory not hers, some truth unspoken.
And in the darkest corners of her mind… a part of her had recognized Fenric's voice.
The lodge was quiet when they returned.
Too quiet.
No one asked questions when Kael carried Elara past the great hall, Daria whispering protective wards behind them. The battle was over, but the real war had just begun—and they all felt it.
Kael brought Elara to her chamber, laying her gently on the bed. She didn't protest. She couldn't. Her body felt heavy, and her mind was a whirlwind of impossible truths.
He crouched beside her, his voice soft but steady. "You're shaking."
Elara blinked. Her hands were trembling, fingers twitching as if her body couldn't decide whether to fight or flee.
"Because I'm afraid," she whispered. "Not of him. Of… me."
Kael brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "You're still you, Elara. He doesn't get to decide who that is."
"But what if I am what he says? What if the mark makes me… both?"
Kael's jaw tightened. He took a breath. "I watched you fight tonight. Not just him, but yourself. And you didn't falter. You chose to protect. You chose us. That's who you are."
She looked at him then, really looked—at the scratches along his jaw, the torn fabric on his shoulder, the faint glow in his eyes that hadn't faded since the battle.
"How do you always know the right thing to say?"
"I don't," he admitted. "I just say what's true."
Elara sat up slowly, wincing. "You could've died tonight."
"So could you."
"But I'm marked. You're not."
Kael gave a quiet laugh. "You think that makes you less worthy of protection?"
"I think it makes me dangerous."
He reached out and took her hand, gently lacing their fingers together. "Then I'll stand beside the danger. I'll take every risk, every hit, if it means keeping you here—keeping you you."
Her throat tightened.
Without thinking, she leaned in.
Their lips met—not with urgency, but with reverence. As if anchoring each other to something real, something good in the middle of chaos. His kiss was warm, steady, and she let herself fall into it, just for a moment, letting the fear bleed out through her tears.
When they pulled apart, Kael rested his forehead against hers. "We'll find the truth," he murmured. "And no matter what it is, we'll face it together."
---
Later that night, Elara stood before the mirror, bathed in moonlight.
She unwrapped the bandage around her arm and stared at the mark. It was brighter now—shifting between silver and a faint shimmer of obsidian. It frightened her.
But it also called to her.
She closed her eyes and reached inward, willing the power to speak to her, to show her what she didn't know.
Flashes filled her vision.
A cradle under a moonless sky. A woman sobbing. Two infants—one wrapped in white, the other in black. A hand reaching out. A voice whispering:
"Only one may rise. The other must fall. The balance must break before it can be rebuilt."
Elara gasped and fell to her knees.
The mark on her skin burned like fire.
Somewhere far beyond the lodge walls, a figure stood atop a cliff, black robes trailing in the wind. Fenric. Watching. Waiting.
And smiling.
The night passed in uneasy silence. Elara couldn't sleep—her mind churned with the fragments of her vision, with the whispering voice that had called her to a future she wasn't sure she could accept. The moon outside her window remained hidden behind clouds, a cold, distant presence that felt like an omen.
Kael had insisted on staying by her side through the night, but even his strength couldn't calm her restless spirit. She had to face it—whatever "it" was.
By morning, the pack was gathering. The leaders convened in the great hall, tension thick in the air like a storm cloud waiting to break. The scouts had returned with reports of increased rogue activity—more groups, moving faster. And the wards they'd placed along the border were weakening.
"I don't like it," Daria said, looking over the maps with sharp eyes. "They're circling in tighter. It's not just the Black Fang pulling their strings—it's something more."
"Elara," Kael said quietly, his hand brushing hers, "You don't have to be here for this."
She met his gaze, feeling the weight of the choice. "Yes, I do. This is my fight. Not just because of the mark… but because they won't stop until they have all of us."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he stood by her side as the leaders discussed strategy, their voices low and grim.
But before they could reach a decision, the door to the hall creaked open. The room fell silent.
A lone figure stood in the doorway, shrouded in a dark cloak. His face was hidden beneath a hood, and the air around him seemed to shimmer with an unnatural chill.
"I think you've been expecting me," he said, his voice deep, yet eerily familiar.
Elara's heart skipped a beat.
"Fenric?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The figure lowered his hood, revealing a face that mirrored hers—pale skin, sharp features, and those eyes… those blackened, hollow eyes.
But this time, it wasn't Fenric.
It was someone far worse.
"Elara," the man said, his voice both gentle and sinister, "I've come for what's mine."
Kael immediately moved to stand in front of her, his stance protective.
The man smirked, a cruel twist to his lips. "You always were the stubborn one."
Elara took a step forward. "Who are you?"
The man's smile faded, and his eyes locked onto hers with a terrifying intensity. "I am the one you've been running from your entire life. The one you were meant to become."
Elara's breath caught. "What are you talking about?"
"I am the other half of you," he said, his voice smooth and cold. "The part of your bloodline that was sealed away, bound by your ancestors. But now... now that you've come of age, the chains are breaking."
"Stop talking in riddles," Kael snapped. "Who are you really?"
"I am Valkar," the man replied. "Your true blood. The other half of the mark. The part that was hidden from you. And I'm here to claim what's rightfully mine."
Elara's mind reeled. Another? A sibling she never knew?
"But why?" she demanded. "Why would you want me? You could have had everything—the power, the kingdom—why hide?"
Valkar's eyes gleamed with something darker than malice—hunger. "Because I wasn't meant to rule like a queen, Elara. I was meant to rule as something much more."
His hand reached into his cloak, and for the briefest moment, Elara saw the flash of something silver—an identical mark, but twisted, filled with jagged edges.
"My father was right. The Black Fang's vision is one of purity. Only through destruction and rebirth can the true Moon rise. And we—we—will be the ones to bring it forth."
Elara's blood ran cold. This wasn't just a brother. This was a being that wanted to tear down everything she knew. And yet…
Something stirred deep within her—a pull, an understanding that ran deeper than blood. Valkar's presence called to her like a dark mirror, showing her what could be, what she could become if she embraced the power within her.
"You have no right," she said, her voice low but steady. "I'll never join you."
Valkar's smirk deepened. "Then you'll never be free of me. You think the Black Fang wants you dead? No. He needs you to fulfill the prophecy. And so do I."
With a swift motion, Valkar turned, vanishing into the shadows like smoke.
The room was still. The tension thick, palpable, as everyone waited for Elara's response.
But her heart was racing, and her mind was already spinning with the fragments of truth he'd offered. Another half of me? The prophecy...
"Are you alright?" Kael's voice cut through her thoughts, his hand on her shoulder, grounding her.
She nodded, but she could barely find the words.
Who am I?
The silence lingered long after Valkar's departure.
Elara couldn't move. Couldn't think. She stood in the center of the great hall, her body frozen like a statue, her mind spinning with his words. The revelation had shattered everything she thought she knew about herself. Another half of her bloodline? A twisted mirror of the very mark that had both saved and cursed her.
She didn't hear Kael move toward her, didn't feel him until his hand cupped her face, turning her toward him. His eyes were dark with concern, but there was a steady calm in his gaze, a grounding force that she desperately needed.
"Elara…" he whispered, as if her name was the only thing holding him together. "Are you alright?"
She shook her head slowly, unable to find the words. Valkar—his name echoed in her mind like a forgotten dream, and yet his presence felt all too real. Her pulse thudded in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the pack leaders murmuring behind her, planning their next steps.
"I don't know," she finally managed, her voice trembling. "I don't understand any of this."
Kael stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her in a quiet embrace. She leaned into him, grateful for his warmth, but a part of her recoiled, a cold knot twisting in her chest.
Valkar... I can feel him, even now.
"You don't have to understand it all right now," Kael said softly, his voice low as he pressed his forehead to hers. "We'll figure it out together. You're not alone."
Her fingers gripped his shirt tightly, pulling him closer. She could feel his steady heartbeat against hers, a reminder that in the chaos of this new truth, there was still something constant, something real between them. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to rest in the strength of his presence. But in the back of her mind, the question remained.
What am I truly capable of?
She pulled away slightly, looking up into his eyes. "Kael, what if... what if I'm becoming like him?"
His eyes softened, and his hand cupped her cheek again. "You're nothing like him, Elara. You're stronger than he could ever be."
"But I can feel it—the power. It's growing inside me. His power."
"No," Kael said firmly. "That's your power, not his. He's trying to manipulate you, twist what's already yours. Don't let him."
Elara closed her eyes, but the image of Valkar's cruel smile lingered in her mind. His words echoed through her thoughts like an insistent drumbeat.
"The chains are breaking."
She shook her head. "I don't know if I can stop it, Kael."
"You don't have to stop it," he said, his voice fierce now. "You just have to control it."
A silence stretched between them as Elara took a deep breath, trying to push down the fear clawing at her chest. She knew Kael was right. But in that moment, she couldn't shake the doubt that whispered in the back of her mind.
Kael's grip tightened on her hand. "We'll face it, whatever it is. Together."
She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that they could overcome this new threat. But deep down, the truth gnawed at her like a hungry beast—Valkar had already planted the seed of doubt.
---
Outside the lodge, the winds had picked up. The howl of distant wolves reached Elara's ears, and she knew the rogues were preparing to make their move. But it wasn't just the rogues she feared now. It was Valkar. His presence lingered like a dark cloud, and she could feel the weight of his intentions bearing down on her.
Kael looked toward the door. "We need to go. They're coming."
Elara nodded, her resolve hardening. She couldn't let fear control her. Not now.
As they left the hall, Daria approached them, her face pale but determined. "Elara, Kael, the scouts have spotted movement near the northern border. We need to act now."
Elara squared her shoulders, her eyes flashing with purpose. "Gather the warriors. We're going to end this tonight."
Daria nodded and turned, rallying the others as Elara and Kael walked toward the war room. Their steps were heavy, but there was a fire in her chest now, one she couldn't ignore.
I am not him. I will not become him.
The war room was filled with maps and the low murmur of planning. But the moment Elara entered, the room fell silent. Every pair of eyes turned to her, waiting for the order.
She stepped to the center of the room, her head held high, her heart steady.
"We strike first," she said, her voice ringing with authority. "We will not wait for them to come to us. We will find them, and we will end this, once and for all."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
"We leave in one hour," she continued. "Prepare yourselves."
As the pack began to move, Kael came up behind her, his voice low. "Are you sure about this?"
"I have to be," she said, turning to him. "This is my fight, Kael. And I'll fight with everything I have. No matter what it costs."
He didn't say anything at first, just looked at her with that steady gaze, the one that saw through her fears. Finally, he nodded. "Then I'll fight beside you."
Elara reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Together."
---
The pack moved swiftly through the forest, the snow crunching beneath their feet, the wind biting at their skin. Elara's senses were on high alert, the mark on her arm burning with an intensity that made her skin ache. But she pushed it down, focusing on the task ahead.
They reached the northern border as dusk began to fall. The trees were thick here, their branches heavy with snow, casting long shadows across the ground. Elara could feel them—the rogues. They were close.
Daria stepped forward, her hand glowing with magic. "They're just beyond this ridge. We'll need to move quickly."
Elara nodded. "We take them by surprise."
As they crested the ridge, Elara's eyes narrowed. Down below, in the clearing, they saw them—dozens of rogues, circling around a massive stone altar, their dark forms blending with the shadows.
And standing at the center of them, his eyes glowing with black fire, was Valkar.
He looked up at them, and for a moment, Elara thought she saw a flicker of something in his gaze—something more than the cold, calculated malice. Something... familiar.
"Elara," he called, his voice carrying across the clearing. "It's not too late to join me."
Valkar's voice cut through the frigid air like a blade.
"Elara, it's not too late to join me," he called, his voice rich with authority, yet tinged with something darker, something that clawed at her soul.
For a moment, the world around her seemed to slow. She could hear the wind whispering through the trees, the rustle of the pack behind her, but Valkar's words filled the silence between her breaths.
Join him?
Her heart thudded in her chest. She couldn't be swayed. Couldn't. Yet, as his gaze locked onto hers, she felt the power within her stir—a dark, magnetic force that pulsed with the rhythm of the moon itself. It was him, pulling at her, calling to the other half of her blood.
"We don't have to fight," Valkar continued, stepping forward with his arms spread wide, his voice full of dark promise. "Together, we could reshape this world. You're the key to it all, Elara. You and I—together, we could unlock the true power of the Moon. The balance that has held us all in check will fall, and we will rise above all."
The words, tempting as they were, burned in her chest like acid. She could see the rogues around him, their eyes hungry with anticipation, their allegiance clear. The pack stood in formation behind her, ready to fight, but they were waiting on her—on what she would do.
She took a step forward, pushing back the fear that gripped her. Kael's hand brushed her shoulder, his touch grounding her, reminding her of what she was fighting for.
"No," she said, her voice firm, though a part of her trembled under the weight of the decision. "I won't be part of your destruction, Valkar. You're a monster, and I will stop you."
Valkar's lips twisted into a smile, but it was cruel, empty—more like a sneer than the smile of a brother.
"As you wish, Elara," he said softly. "But know this: you cannot stop what's already been set in motion. The mark you wear is only the beginning. And I will not be the last of your bloodline to claim its power."
With a wave of his hand, the rogues lunged forward, howls of rage and hunger splitting the night.
Elara didn't hesitate. She reached for the power within her, felt it surge like wildfire through her veins. The mark burned, alive with the essence of the Moon, and she pulled it to the surface, unleashing it in a burst of light that illuminated the clearing.
The rogues faltered, momentarily blinded by the brilliance. But it wasn't enough. They surged forward again, determined to tear through the pack.
"Elara, now!" Kael shouted, his voice sharp and commanding.
She didn't need another word. With a wave of her hand, she called the winds—ripping them from the very trees, the air crackling with raw energy. The rogues were thrown back, their forms crashing into the earth, howling in fury.
But Valkar remained unscathed, standing tall, watching her with a mixture of amusement and disdain.
"You're stronger than I thought," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with something dark. "But not strong enough."
With a flick of his wrist, the ground beneath them trembled, and the earth cracked open, releasing an army of shadowy creatures—beasts formed of smoke and darkness, their eyes glowing with an eerie red light.
Kael stepped beside Elara, his expression grim. "We're not fighting just rogues anymore. These are creatures of the Void. We can't just fight them head-on."
"We don't have to," Elara said, her voice low, her resolve firm. "We need to close the rift he's opened. That is the key."
The battle raged around them. The pack fought valiantly, their howls filling the air, but it was clear—Valkar had more tricks up his sleeve than they had anticipated.
Elara's gaze locked with Kael's, and in that moment, she knew what had to be done. She couldn't just hold back the darkness—she had to stop it at its source.
"Stay with me," she whispered to Kael. "Keep them off me."
He nodded, his eyes intense, but he didn't question her. He never did. With one final, determined glance, he turned toward the fighting pack and leaped into the fray.
Elara stepped toward the altar, the mark on her arm blazing brighter than the stars. The rift Valkar had opened pulsed with dark energy, its tendrils reaching into the fabric of reality itself. She could feel it—the Void, a place of endless hunger, pulling at her. It wanted to consume everything.
She breathed deeply, channeling the power inside her. The mark throbbed, but now it felt like something she could control, something she could shape. She lifted her hands, focusing her energy on the rift, and began to pull the magic to her.
But Valkar wasn't going to let her do it that easily. His voice boomed across the battlefield.
"You think you can stop me? You're nothing but a child playing with powers beyond your understanding!"
The ground beneath Elara cracked and split, and from the rift, shadowy hands shot out, grabbing at her. But she didn't flinch. She forced the power to surge through her, pushing the shadows back with every breath.
"I am not a child," Elara said, her voice strong, unwavering. "And I am not alone."
With one final, desperate push, she released the energy she had been holding back. A surge of light erupted from her hands, slamming into the rift with the force of a thunderstrike. The shadows screamed as they were pulled back into the void, the rift itself shuddering and collapsing in on itself.
For a moment, everything was still.
And then, the world erupted into chaos once more.
The sky crackled with the energy of the battle. Valkar's face twisted with rage as he saw his plans unravel. But even as the rift began to close, Elara could feel the weight of his power still lingering—dark, insidious, and relentless.
"Elara!" Kael's voice broke through the haze of magic. He was there in an instant, standing by her side, his face etched with concern. "You did it."
But Elara could barely breathe, the strain of the magic pulling at her. She looked toward Valkar, whose eyes were now filled with fury.
"This isn't over, Elara," he hissed, his hands glowing with dark power. "Not by a long shot. I will take everything from you. You will become mine."
With that, Valkar vanished, melting into the shadows, his followers disappearing with him.
But Elara wasn't done yet. She wouldn't let him win. Not now, not ever.