The scouts mounted their horses, their movements quick and efficient. Ruvan, Dain, and Karv fell into position around Thornak as they began their journey toward the ruin.
As they neared the location, Thornak's mind raced. This was no random attack. It was a calculated strike, aimed at testing the strength of his kingdom. But why? And who had the power, or the audacity, to use such dark magic so close to Vargorath?
This place reeks of death, Jax snarled.
Thornak nodded slightly to himself. He felt it too.
As the first signs of the ruin came into view.
"Stay alert," Thornak growled, his eyes fixed on the ancient stones rising from the ground.
The forest thinned as they approached the ruin. What had once been stone walls were now broken down, half-buried under weeds and creeping ivy. The trees here were different, twisted, gnarled, their bark blackened just as Karv described.
As soon as Thornak dismounted a gust of wind swept through the ruins. It wasn't just cold, it was chilling. It carried a scent he couldn't place, a mixture of ash, blood, and something foul that kept his wolf on edge.
Ruvan and Dain followed closely, their eyes scanning the area. Karv motioned then to a set of crude symbols carved into the stone.
"Here," Karv said, kneeling. "These markings weren't here last time we patrolled."
Thorn knelt beside him. The symbols were rough as if they were curved with something sharp. The lines were dark and gave off a faint glow.
"Old magic," Ruvan murmured, crouching beside him. "Witch-born."
"Or worse," Thornak said. His voice dropped low, a rumble of warning beneath each word. "Blood offerings were made here. I can smell it in the stone."
He rose slowly. "Whoever's doing this is summoning power they don't understand or worse, they do understand it."
Dain looked around, his nose wrinkling. "There's no one here now. But someone's been using this place very recently, a day old perhaps."
Thornak walked deeper into the ruin, stepping through a broken archway into what was left of the main room. In the middle stood a rough altar, stained with old, dried blood. Pieces of bone were scattered on the ground like shattered glass.
Someone is here, Jax growled
Then he felt it.
It wasn't just a feeling, there was someone just beyond the trees.
"Don't move," thornak growled.
The others froze, ready to shift if necessary.
A shadow moved in the trees, quick like a blink. It wasn't a rogue wolf. It was taller, thinner, and looked smarter.
"Karv, signal the others. Ruvan, with me. Dain, flank left."
Thorn's voice was quiet and controlled but inside, his wolf roared, pacing under his skin. There was no fear in him, only focus.
He took a step forward, and just then, someone came out of the trees. They wore gray clothes, and their face was hidden under a hood.
"I wondered when the mighty King of Vargorath would show himself," the figure said, voice echoing through the wind.
Thornak's eyes locked on the stranger. "And who are you to desecrate my borders with this filth?"
The figure chuckled. "I am no one. Merely the hand of a greater force. One that remembers what you Lycans have forgotten."
The wind howled through the trees.
Thornak took a single step forward. "Then let your master hear this, Vargorath doesn't bow. Not to shadows. Not to blood magic. And not to ghosts either."
The figure tilted its head. "We shall see."
And then, it was gone. Just vanished.
Dain emerged a second later from the trees, snarling in his lycan form. "I couldn't get to him. He moved too fast."
Thornak turned back to the others. "He wasn't alone. They're testing us."
Ruvan stepped beside him. "What do we do?"
Thorn's eyes burned gold as he looked toward the north. "We find out what in the goddess's name is going on here."
....
Back in the castle, Prince Aedric strode into the Queen's chambers without waiting to be announced, a folded parchment in hand and a knowing gleam in his eye. The queen sat before a low table, sipping fragrant tea from a delicate silver cup, her expression serene but expectant.
"Well?" she asked, not bothering to look up.
Aedric offered a mocking bow, then held out the parchment. "Information, as requested. Our little guest had quite the humble beginnings. A backwater village near the eastern ridge. Parents are common traders, they move around a lot, no one seems to recall in detail exactly when they arrived in that village."
Maravelle finally lifted her gaze, taking the parchment with dainty fingers. She read in silence, her face betraying no reaction until she reached the end.
"A nobody," she said coldly. "No bloodline. No title. No worth."
"She fought off a pack of rogues, they say," Aedric added with a shrug. "Perhaps she's not entirely helpless."
Maravelle gave him a withering look. "Savage instincts do not make a queen."
Aedric smirked. "Even if she is his mate?"
The queen's eyes turned to ice. "Even then."
She rose, letting the parchment fall to the floor like discarded refuse. "He may be king, but Vargorath is not his alone to command. He forgets what is expected. What is owed to our people. A throne cannot be shared with a girl raised in filth and shadow."
Aedric arched a brow. "Then what will you do, my queen?"
Maravelle moved to the window, her voice like a blade wrapped in silk. "She cannot remain here. I don't care what fate has decided. She is not one of us... and she never will be."
She turned slowly, meeting his gaze with cool authority. "Summon Lady Selene. Discreetly. I would speak with her."
Aedric arched a brow. "oh?"
"She has the breeding. The strength. The poise. Everything Lara lacks," Maravelle said with quiet conviction. "And she was raised to know what it means to serve this kingdom. To stand at a king's side with dignity."
Aedric's smirk deepened. "You intend to remind Thornak what a real queen looks like."
"No." Maravelle crossed the room, pausing just before him. "I intend to remind him what his duty looks like."