The sound came again — low, rhythmic, ancient. It threaded through the ashes like a pulse, faint but alive. The forest beyond the Sanctuary swayed as though it too remembered the chant.
Luca stiffened beside me. "They shouldn't be able to get this close," he murmured. "Not after the wards."
I looked at the faint shimmer of the barrier that had once shielded the Sanctuary. It was flickering — not broken yet, but close. "The wards are dying. Just like everything else."
He gave me a sidelong glance. "You always did have a way of finding comfort in grim truths."
I tried to smile, but my throat felt tight. "If I don't, who will?"
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The world around us was still, yet full of whispers — the kind you don't hear with your ears but with something deeper.
Finally, Luca pushed off the wall and started toward the forest path. "We need to see what's left. The Order wouldn't show their hand unless they were certain we couldn't strike back."
"Then they miscalculated," I said, following him. "Because I'm not done fighting."
The path was half-swallowed by mist, each step sinking into damp earth and memories. I could almost see flashes of what used to be — the Sanctuary's gardens before the war, filled with moon lilies that glowed softly at dusk. Now, only ashes remained, and the faint metallic scent of blood.
Luca stopped suddenly. "There."
At first, I saw nothing. Then — a flicker of movement. Shadows peeled away from the trees, revealing hooded figures, their faces hidden by silver masks etched with crescent marks. The Lunaris Order.
My pulse spiked. "That's impossible. They fell decades ago."
"Not all of them." His voice was low, dangerous. "They went underground. Waiting."
One of the figures stepped forward. A woman — tall, graceful, with hair silver as moonlight. When she removed her mask, I froze.
"Mother?"
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
She smiled faintly, like a ghost remembering how to be human. "Aria. You've grown."
My knees almost buckled. "You're dead."
"I was," she said softly. "Until the Moon called me back."
Luca moved instinctively in front of me, hand on his blade. "She's lying."
Her eyes flicked to him — cold, assessing. "The last of the Silverfangs, protecting my daughter. How poetic."
"Don't," I warned. "Don't twist this."
"Twist?" She tilted her head. "No, child. I came to warn you. The Red Moon wasn't a curse — it was a door. And now, something is stepping through."
My stomach dropped. "You mean—"
"Not just wolves," she interrupted. "Older things. Forgotten things. The ones who ruled before the first howl was ever heard."
Luca's expression darkened. "The Primordials."
She nodded. "And they will not stop at the Sanctuary."
Wind tore through the clearing then, scattering ashes and whispers. Her image began to fade, turning translucent like mist. "Find the Obsidian Heart," she said urgently. "Before they do. It's the only thing that can close the door."
"Where?" I shouted.
Her voice was barely a whisper now. "Where it all began…"
And then she was gone.
Only silence remained — heavy, suffocating.
Luca exhaled sharply. "You know what this means."
I nodded, though I didn't want to. "We have to go back. To the ruins of the first pack."
He grimaced. "Aria, that place is cursed. Even the hunters won't go near it."
"I don't have a choice." My voice shook. "If the Moon brought my mother back, it can take her again. I won't lose her twice."
Luca looked at me for a long time, then sighed. "You always did run headfirst into the impossible."
"I learned from the best," I shot back.
He almost smiled — almost. "Fine. But if we're doing this, we do it my way. No heroics. No solo missions. And definitely no blood pacts."
"Deal."
We turned toward the northern ridge, where the forest thickened into black pines. The path would lead us to the ruins — to what remained of the First Howl, the birthplace of the wolf curse.
But even before we reached it, I could feel the shift. The trees seemed older here, their trunks gnarled like knotted hands. The air grew colder, heavy with something ancient.
Then, a howl split the silence — long, mournful, and not quite human.
Luca's hand brushed mine. "That's not one of ours."
I swallowed hard. "Then what is it?"
Before he could answer, something moved between the trees. Not fast — deliberate. The mist parted, revealing eyes that shimmered like broken glass.
A creature stepped out. Its form shifted as it walked — sometimes human, sometimes beast, its body flickering between worlds.
It smiled. "The Moon remembers you, Aria."
Every instinct screamed to run, but my feet refused. "What are you?"
"I am what comes before." It tilted its head, gaze burning. "And what will come after."
Luca drew his blade, the silver catching faint light. "She asked what you are."
The creature's smile widened, sharp and wrong. "Names are for mortals. But if you must—call me Echo."
It lunged.
The world erupted into motion — steel flashing, air splitting. Luca met the strike, sparks flying where silver met shadow. I felt the pull of the Moon's power surge through my veins, instinct rising like fire.
I threw out my hand, and for the first time since the Red Moon, it answered me. A silver flame burst from my palm, colliding with the creature and sending it crashing into the trees.
It screamed — not in pain, but in fury. "You should not have that power. It belongs to the First."
I didn't know what that meant. I only knew I wasn't giving it up. "Then come and take it."
Luca's eyes burned like molten gold. "Aria, move!"
I dove aside as the creature reformed, shadow and bone twisting together. The fight was chaos — soundless and endless all at once. But then, through the madness, I heard something new.
The chant. The same one from before.
Only now, it was louder.
It wasn't coming from the forest. It was coming from inside me.
---
The creature vanished as suddenly as it appeared, leaving the woods trembling and my heart pounding.
Luca grabbed my shoulders, eyes wide. "Aria — your eyes—"
"What?"
"They're silver."
I looked into the dark water nearby, and he was right. The reflection staring back wasn't entirely mine anymore.
Something ancient was waking inside me.
And it wasn't done yet.