Beneath the earth where sunlight dared not touch, during the dead hours of the night, a new power stirred.
Born of envy, thirst, and ancient hatred, a secret cult had risen. Formed in shadows, spoken of, only in forgotten tongues, and fueled by a shared hunger, to claim what had long been denied, power.
Nine cloaked figures stood in a tight circle within a dimly lit chamber. The room was carved from old stone, echoing with age and secrecy. At its center, a burning sigil flickered with purple fire, unnatural, and very much alive.
Their hoods masked their faces, their robes uniform. Even among themselves, names were forbidden. But they all knew who stood beside them.
Voice 1 the leader, known as Great Commandant, spoke first, his voice cold and measured.
"The Alpha suspects something. He thinks the threat is from within… and he's right. We must be more discreet. Our meetings will reduce from now on."
He glanced around the circle, eyes hidden, but his authority was felt.
"How long until the ritual is complete? The four bodies have already stirred too much attention."
Voice 2, the cult's sorcerer, keeper of forbidden magic, responded, his voice rough and brittle.
"It takes time… precision. But it should be ready by the next full moon."
Voice 1 snapped, "Fasten the process if you must. We no longer have the luxury of time."
He stepped closer to the flickering sigil, its flames dancing against his cloak.
"Too long have we bowed to Kaelion's rule. Too long have we been forgotten, discarded, cast aside. But no more."
A tense silence followed, until Voice 4 broke it.
"I heard the trackers found something. It was delivered straight to the Alpha."
The room stirred with quiet murmurs.
Voice 1 turned sharply. "What did they find?"
Voice 4 hesitated. "I'm not certain, Great Commandant. My source said Jarek carried it to the Alpha himself, wrapped in red cloth. They couldn't see what was inside."
The fire surged briefly.
Voice 1 tone dropped, deadly.
"Which of you made that mistake?" he growled.
No one answered. Heads bowed deeper.
"We're barely in motion, and already you're leaving traces?" he hissed. "Unacceptable."
He turned to Voice 4.
"I want eyes on the Alpha. His Beta. Everyone. I want to know what they eat, when they sleep, who they speak to. We cannot afford any more surprises."
Voice 4 bowed. "Yes, Great Commandant."
The flames in the center dimmed, reacting to the leader's closing words.
"The moon is rising. Soon, the veil will thin. Until then, disappear."
And just like that, the meeting was over.
The chamber emptied, one silent shadow at a time.
But the flame remained.
Waiting. Watching.
Hungry.
___
Moonveil Creed Pack – Inner Hall, Morning Council Meeting
The circular chamber was carved from moonstone and woven vines, softly glowing with natural light. Sacred and old, it had held generations of quiet decision-making, a place where power spoke and the future was shaped.
Alpha Aaron Moiré sat on the elevated throne of carved obsidian wood, his hands clasped together, eyes steady beneath the morning light. Beside him stood Beta Thorne Vale, tall and calm, his closest friend and fiercest shield. If Aaron was the heart of Moonveil, Thorne was the sword.
Seated in a semi-circle before him were the core leaders of the pack:
Pack Marshal Lucan Moiré, his brother, sharp-eyed, responsible for all external intelligence, alliances, and defense strategy.
Elder Mava, the oldest in Moonveil, keeper of tradition, oral law, and sacred rites.
Healer Lys, high priestess of the Moon Temple, spiritual guide and guardian of the inner sanctum.
Warden Juno, commander of the border guards, head of security within the territory.
Alpha Aaron's voice broke the silence. Low. Measured. Firm.
"Our lands may be blessed but we are not blind. The war shook us too. The world is changing, faster than we are. We cannot afford to remain a silent corner of prophecy anymore."
There were nods. Tension. Hesitation.
"We've hidden behind sacred wards, tradition, and our gifts. But isolation is no longer safety, it's vulnerability. We need stronger borders. Better trained warriors. We need alliances."
Elder Mava frowned, voice raspy with age. "Tradition has protected us for centuries, Alpha. Are you asking we abandon it now?"
Lucan leaned forward.
"I don't think the Alpha is telling us to abandon our traditions. But evolve? Yes. The last war taught us what unpreparedness costs."
Alpha Aaron nodded. "I'm not asking us to erase our roots, but to grow with them.
Our healers must know combat. Our warriors must be trained for more than defense. We must update our communication systems, open trade routes, improve our surveillance tech, and yes... seek new allies."
Warden Juno added, "Several young wolves have already begun secret combat training outside the Temple walls. They're restless. They want to protect, not only heal."
Healer Lys looked troubled. "And how do we maintain spiritual order with such rapid change?"
"We integrate it," Alpha Aaron replied. "Let tradition guide, not bind. Let the old ways bless the new. We do not replace, we reinforce."
Lucan stood. "I will begin discreet talks with packs open to alliance. We need stronger ties if trouble rises again."
Alpha Aaron nodded. "Do it. We'll need reports by the next full moon. Meanwhile, I want security doubled at the border. Initiate combat programs for any wolves who volunteer. Lys, oversee that their inner balance is maintained."
She bowed. "It will be done."
And so, the meeting ended, not in defense of the old ways, but with the scent of change.
The Moonveil Pack would no longer wait to be saved.
It would rise.
____
Silverclaw – Velmira's Sanctum
The sanctum was dim, lit only by flickering blue flames held in crystal sconces carved into the ancient stone walls. A soft, steady hum filled the air, like a distant chant trapped in time. Here, the air felt heavier. Time moved differently. Slower. Thicker.
Beta Darian, alone, moved with purpose. The red cloth-wrapped sigil rested deep in his pocket, its weight unnatural. His boots echoed softly as he entered the inner sanctum of Seer Velmira.
She sat in her usual corner, cloaked in grey silk laced with silver runes, her hands resting lightly on an old, open book. Though her eyes remained on the pages, her voice rang clear before he could speak.
"I didn't summon you yet."
Darian paused. "I have something," he said simply.
Velmira slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze. "What is it?"
He stepped forward, unwrapped the cloth, and placed the object on her table.
Velmira picked it up without hesitation. Her long fingers, veined with glowing ink, turned it over carefully. The sigil, a fragment of bone, charred and broken, etched with symbols that pulsed faintly, seemed to breathe in her hands.
She inhaled sharply.
"This… should not exist."
Beta Darian's expression hardened. "What is it?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she rose and crossed the room to her altar, lined with ancient herbs, bones, and bowls filled with dark liquid. She placed the sigil in a copper basin and began to chant in the old tongue. The blue flames shifted green. The air thickened.
After a long silence, she turned.
"It's a mark of summoning but not from our realm. It was crafted to anchor something here… something not born of wolves or men."
Darian frowned. "Dark magic?"
Velmira's eyes glowed faintly. "Older than dark magic. Forbidden even before the rise of the first packs. This… this is the work of the First Forsaken."
Her voice dropped. "It's cultic. Ritualistic."
She looked down at the sigil again. "Where did you find it?"
"In the southern woods," Darian replied. "Our trackers found it near the fourth body."
She gave a light nod. "Tell Alpha Kaelion. I'll be visiting him soon."
He hesitated. "And the body?"
Velmira's tone changed, quieter, heavier.
"The markings weren't carved. They were absorbed. As if the body wasn't just killed… it was offered."
"A sacrifice?" Darian's voice dropped.
Velmira nodded once. "Yes. But not just for death, for something else..."
A tense silence settled between them.
"I'll speak to the Alpha," she said. "You may go."
Darian bowed. "Thank you, Velmira."
She watched him leave, her fingers brushing the sigil one last time.
It pulsed beneath her touch.
----
"All this sitting. All this waiting." Ravon growled.
Patience is strategy, Kaelion replied inwardly.
"It's cowardice while they spill our blood." Ravon said angrily.
"Let me out the moment we catch the scent. Just one scent"
You'll get your turn, Kaelion muttered under his breath. But first, we need to understand what we're facing.
Outside the chamber, two palace guards stood whispering under breath.
"You think the rumors are true? That the last body was drained?"
"Worse," Elias replied grimly. "They say the fourth one was even more brutal than the others. The markings were deeper."
Garrik swallowed. "What is going on in these lands?"
Then footsteps.
Firm. Intentional.
The main doors creaked open, and Beta Darian strode in, cloak trailing behind him.
His eyes swept the corridor, landing on the guards.
"Where's the Alpha?" he asked, voice clipped.
"Beta," they chorused with quick bows.
"In the library," Elias replied.
Darian nodded once. "Ok"
He continued down the corridor, each step echoing with urgency.
He knocked.
"Alpha," Darian called.
"Come in," Kaelion responded.
Beta Darian entered the library. The air was heavy with smoke and silence. Alpha Kaelion, without looking up, reached for the bottle and refilled his glass.
"Sit," he said quietly.
Beta Darian pulled out a chair and sat, posture straight, eyes unreadable.
Alpha Kaelion downed the whiskey in a single, practiced motion.
"Velmira examined the sigil," Darian said.
Alpha Kaelion finally looked up, golden eyes locking onto his Beta's face.
"What did she say?"
"She says it's a mark of summoning. Not of wolf magic. Something older, something forbidden."
Alpha Kaelion's grip on the glass tightened.
"She called it a gateway. A dark tether. It's meant to pull something into our realm. And the body, it was the offering."
Silence followed.
Then Ravon stirred.
"There it is," the wolf growled. "Open blood. Open door. We hunt, or we fall."
Kaelion stood slowly, setting his glass aside. The firelight caught the sharp lines of his face.
"She's coming here?"
Darian nodded. "She said she'll speak to you directly. She'll be here soon."
"Good," Kaelion muttered. "I need to know exactly what we're dealing with."
He stepped past Darian, the smoke from his cigar trailing behind like a shadow of war.
"Get the war table ready," he said, voice like steel.
"If this is what I think it is, we're not just guarding the pack anymore."
He paused at the door.
"We're preparing for war."