The growl came again closer this time.
Logan didn't need sight to know they were surrounded.
The girl clutched his arm. "They're still here," she whispered.
"I know," he said, though his voice carried more rumble than reassurance.
The forest had changed. It no longer felt neutral. It felt divided.
Two presences.
One circling.
One watching from a distance.
Logan's senses split between them instinctively. The circling predators moved with open hunger. Aggressive. Testing him. The distant presence was calmer. Older. Controlled.
The circling ones moved first.
A blur burst from the fog larger than a wolf, leaner than a bear, eyes burning with feral intelligence. It lunged not at the girl…
But at Logan.
Good.
He met it head-on.
Their collision cracked through the trees like thunder. Mud exploded beneath them. Claws scraped bone. Teeth snapped inches from his throat.
This wasn't the creature from before.
This one fought with strategy.
It twisted midair, slammed him into a tree, and snarled into his face.
"You shouldn't exist."
The voice was distorted but undeniably conscious.
Logan's shock lasted half a second.
Then instinct took over.
He drove his elbow into the creature's ribs and felt something crack. It staggered. He rolled, shifting more fully now muscle expanding, spine elongating, jaw reshaping without hesitation.
This time it didn't hurt.
This time it felt right.
The second attacker emerged from the trees, circling the girl.
"No!" Logan roared.
The sound that tore from his throat wasn't human.
It wasn't even wolf.
It was something older.
The forest responded.
Wind surged violently between the trees. Branches bent inward. Leaves spiraled.
Both attackers hesitated.
And in that hesitation, Logan struck.
He moved faster than thought. Claws sliced across the second wolf's shoulder. Blood sprayed dark against silver moonlight. The creature recoiled, eyes flashing not with pain, but recognition.
"Bloodhowl," it hissed.
The first attacker rose slowly, studying him now instead of charging.
"You carry his mark," it said.
Logan didn't understand the words but something inside him did.
Mark.
Heat pulsed across his chest.
He staggered, clutching himself as searing pain ignited beneath his skin.
Through torn fabric, a symbol began to surface not carved, not burned but emerging from beneath the skin itself.
A crescent fang encircling a vertical slash.
Ancient.
Alive.
The attackers stepped back.
"He's awakened," one muttered.
"No," the other corrected darkly. "He's returned."
Returned.
The word echoed through Logan's skull.
Rage flared, but it wasn't blind. It was controlled. Focused.
"You took me," he growled though he didn't know how he knew.
The wolves stiffened.
The larger one smiled a terrible stretch of lip and fang.
"Yes."
The girl whimpered behind him.
The wolves' eyes shifted toward her.
"She's irrelevant," the larger one said. "You are not."
Logan moved to shield her again.
"Wyrdekin does not bow," the creature continued. "You were meant to break. To turn feral. To hate them."
Them.
"Bloodhowl made you weak," it sneered.
The name hit like a memory half-formed.
Images flashed
A massive hall carved in stone.
Silver torches.
A towering figure with eyes like storm clouds.
Warm hands lifting him as a child.
Gone.
Fire.
Screams.
Claws.
Running.
Logan roared and lunged again.
This time the fight was decisive.
He wasn't reacting anymore.
He was commanding.
Each strike calculated. Each movement efficient. His body moved like it had done this before like war was in his bones.
The first Wyrdekin tried to flank him.
Logan anticipated it.
He spun mid-strike, drove his claws into the creature's shoulder, and forced it to the ground.
The second wolf hesitated.
Fear.
He could smell it now.
"You were a child," the pinned wolf snarled. "You should have died with them."
Something inside Logan snapped into place.
With them.
Not instead of.
With.
"You killed my parents," he said not asking.
The wolf's silence confirmed it.
Before Logan could strike the killing blow
A new presence flooded the forest.
Not aggressive.
Not chaotic.
Powerful.
Calm.
Every tree seemed to lean toward it. The wind shifted direction entirely.
The Wyrdekin froze.
From the fog stepped three figures.
Massive.
Silver-eyed.
Controlled.
Unlike the feral edge of the attackers, these wolves radiated discipline.
One stepped forward.
Older.
Scarred.
His gaze locked onto Logan's chest onto the glowing mark.
He bowed his head slightly.
"Grandson."
The word hit harder than any claw.
The Wyrdekin snarled.
"You dare"
"Silence," the elder wolf commanded.
And the forest obeyed.
The Wyrdekin pulled back slowly.
"This isn't finished," the larger one hissed. "He belongs to neither world."
"He belongs to Bloodhowl," the elder replied evenly.
The name carried weight.
Authority.
Legacy.
The Wyrdekin retreated into the fog.
Not defeated.
But wary.
Logan stood breathing hard, the mark still burning faintly beneath his skin.
The silver-eyed elder approached slowly.
Up close, he was enormous not just in size, but presence.
"You were taken from us," the elder said quietly. "But blood does not forget."
Logan's mind reeled.
"You left me," he growled.
Pain flickered through the elder's eyes.
"No," he said. "We were betrayed."
The girl stirred behind Logan, breaking the charged silence.
The elder's gaze softened slightly at the sight of her.
"You still protect," he observed.
Logan didn't lower his guard.
"Who are you?"
The elder straightened fully.
"I am Eryndor Varek," he said. "Alpha of the Bloodhowl Pact."
The name settled into Logan's bones like something remembered.
"Your mother was my daughter."
The world tilted.
Everything he thought he knew the fire, the loss, the guilt shifted violently under that single truth.
"You're lying," Logan said but the denial lacked force.
Eryndor stepped closer.
"You were never abandoned," he said quietly. "You were stolen."
The mark on Logan's chest pulsed once more.
Recognition.
Acceptance.
Fear.
"You carry Lyra's strength," Eryndor continued. "And Caelum's fire."
His parents' names felt sacred in the air.
The girl looked between them in stunned confusion.
Logan's claws slowly retracted. His breathing steadied.
The forest no longer felt hostile.
It felt divided.
War was coming.
And he was at its center.
Eryndor extended a hand not commanding.
Inviting.
"Come home."
Logan looked back toward the direction the Wyrdekin had vanished.
Then down at the girl he still shielded.
Then at the mark glowing faintly on his skin.
His entire life had been built on ashes.
Now he was being offered blood.
The hunt had never just been about a missing girl.
It had been about him.
And it was far from over.