The morning air clawed at Kael's wounds as he trudged through the frostbitten mountain path. Snowflakes swirled like ghostly ash, the ground beneath him crunching with every step. Each breath was a struggle. But pain was a companion he had long since stopped fearing.
His thoughts were fixed on a single purpose now:
Revenge.
The Crimson Alphas had taken everything—his home, his sister, his name. But they had also awakened something inside him. They wanted his blood.
He would drown them in theirs.
---
After hours of climbing, Kael finally reached the edge of an ancient ridge. There, hidden among collapsed stone pillars and frost-covered carvings, stood the remnants of an old Moon Temple—a place whispered about in forbidden tales, a sanctuary that had long fallen from the memory of modern wolves.
The entrance was flanked by two broken statues of wolf-headed warriors. Their eyes, carved from black obsidian, seemed to glow faintly as Kael passed. Inside, the silence was so complete it felt sacred.
He descended into the dark.
Each step brought an eerie hum to life beneath his boots—like the ground itself remembered what he was.
Torches lit themselves as he moved.
Magic.
He approached the inner sanctum, where a large circular dais sat at the center of the chamber. Ancient runes covered the walls, etched in languages older than the packs themselves. Kael knelt at the altar.
And then—he heard it.
A voice, echoing inside his skull.
> "Child of ash and silver. Blood of the First. The seal upon your spirit has cracked."
Kael gasped, his mark burning hot beneath his shirt. The ground trembled.
> "Your power is only the beginning. But power without control will devour you."
"Then teach me," Kael growled aloud, teeth clenched. "Show me how to destroy them."
There was a long silence.
Then, the altar split open.
From within rose a blade—long, curved, and silver like moonlight itself. Not forged, but grown. It pulsed with energy that matched Kael's heartbeat.
The Fang of Varok.
The voice whispered one final truth:
> "You are his last echo. His vengeance. The blood of the Moonborn King lives in you."
Kael took the blade.
And for the first time in his life—he felt whole.
---
Meanwhile…
Miles away, inside the Crimson Citadel, Alpha Kieran—supreme leader of the Crimson Alphas—stood at the edge of his war chamber, watching blood drip from a chained prisoner.
He was tall, armored in crimson-black furs, his eyes glowing with unnatural heat. The entire room reeked of silver, death, and fire.
"Still no word from the trackers?" he asked, voice cold.
"No, my Alpha," said one of the guards, bowing. "Only one returned—and he died of his wounds before we could question him. But… he said something."
Kieran turned.
The guard swallowed hard. "He said, 'The Moonborn lives.'"
Kieran stiffened.
A beat of silence. Then a cruel smile spread across his lips.
"Then our war is finally beginning."
He waved his hand.
"Send word to the South Ridge Pack. Tell them the Forsaken has returned. Offer ten thousand gold for his head."
The guard nodded and left.
Alone, Kieran turned to a locked chest and opened it. Inside lay a bloodstained crown—crafted from the bones of fallen alphas—and a map with Kael's old village marked in red.
Kieran had once known Kael's father.
And he had killed him with his own hands.
But the son… the son had survived.
Now, the last heir of Varok had risen—and he had to be destroyed.
---
Back in the mountains…
Kael trained through the snow and storm.
Days turned into weeks.
The Fang of Varok responded to his will like a living creature. It cleaved through stone and shadow alike. With each swing, Kael could feel the memories of a warrior king surging through him—battle instincts, ancient footwork, primal howls. His warform was growing more stable. Stronger. Faster. More lethal.
But with power came visions.
Each night, he dreamt of a silver wolf chained to a burning throne, eyes blind with sorrow.
And each time, the wolf whispered one word:
> "Lina."
Kael didn't know what it meant—who Lina was—but the dreams always ended the same way:
With a cr
imson crown, dripping with his sister's blood.
He would not rest until every one of the Crimson Alphas lay dead at his feet.