The war council convened within minutes of the scout's terrifying announcement. Inside the ancient stone chamber beneath the pack's main gathering area, tension crackled like lightning before a storm. Carved wolf heads stared down from the walls, their stone eyes seeming to judge the living wolves below.
Alpha Gideon sat hunched in his ceremonial chair, each breath a visible struggle. To his right stood Malachi, already positioned as if he belonged there. The other pack elders formed a semicircle around them, their weathered faces etched with worry and fear.
Adonijah stood at the back of the chamber, as he always did. Close enough to hear, far enough to be ignored. But tonight, his golden eyes missed nothing. Every glance between Malachi and the other wolves, every subtle gesture, every word that carried hidden meaning.
"The Bloodmoon Clan has never dared to enter our territory with such force," Elder Gareth said, his gruff voice echoing off the stone walls. "This isn't a hunting party or a border dispute. This is an invasion."
"With human allies," added Elder Vera, her fingers nervously working the prayer beads around her wrist. "In all my years, I have never heard of wolves allying with humans against other wolves."
Malachi stepped forward, his commanding presence immediately drawing all attention. "This is exactly what I have been warning about," he said, his voice carrying the perfect note of righteous anger. "Our enemies grow bold because they sense our weakness. They know our Alpha is failing, and they know we are led by..." His gaze flicked briefly toward Adonijah. "By one who cannot even call for help when danger approaches."
The words stung, but Adonijah remained motionless. He had learned long ago that reacting to Malachi's provocations only proved his cousin's point. Instead, he watched. And what he saw troubled him deeply.
Malachi spoke of enemies growing bold, but his body language suggested something else entirely. There was no surprise in his posture, no genuine concern in his eyes. If anything, he seemed... prepared.
"What do you propose we do?" Alpha Gideon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"We must strike first," Malachi declared. "Show them that the Shadowfang Pack still has teeth. I will lead a war party to drive them back across our borders."
"No." The voice came from the chamber entrance, soft but carrying absolute authority. Elder Morwen stepped into the circle of light, her ancient form moving with surprising grace. Despite her age, every wolf in the room straightened when she spoke. "There is more at work here than simple territorial aggression."
She moved to the center of the chamber, her pale eyes studying each face in turn. When her gaze fell on Adonijah, he felt a strange warmth, as if she were trying to communicate something without words.
"The scout spoke of something dark accompanying our enemies," Morwen continued. "Something that makes the air feel wrong. This is no ordinary alliance."
"Superstitious nonsense," Malachi scoffed, but Adonijah noticed the slight tightening around his eyes. "We face flesh and blood enemies, not shadows and ghost stories."
"Do we?" Morwen's voice cut through the chamber like a blade. "Tell me, Malachi, when did you last walk the blighted areas of our territory? When did you last feel the wrongness that seeps from the corrupted ground?"
"I leave such... investigations... to others," Malachi replied smoothly. "A leader must focus on practical matters."
Adonijah felt something stir inside him—a pressure building behind his ribs, a need to speak that was stronger than it had ever been. He stepped forward, drawing startled looks from the assembled elders.
He opened his mouth, and for one desperate moment, everyone in the chamber held their breath.
Nothing came out.
The familiar silence stretched between them, heavy and damning. Several elders shook their heads in disappointment. Malachi's lips curved in a cold smile.
But Elder Morwen was watching Adonijah with intense focus. "Sometimes," she said quietly, "the most important truths cannot be spoken aloud."
Before anyone could ask what she meant, another scout burst into the chamber. This one was younger than the first, barely past his eighteenth year, and his face was white with terror.
"They've taken prisoners," he gasped out between ragged breaths. "The Bloodmoon Clan—they have three of our pack members. Young ones. Sara, Marcus, and..." His voice broke. "And little Emma."
A collective gasp echoed through the chamber. Emma was only fourteen, barely old enough to shift forms. The thought of her in enemy hands sent a chill through every heart present.
"Where?" Malachi demanded, stepping forward with what appeared to be righteous fury.
"The old ruins near the eastern border," the scout replied. "But sir, there's something else. Something impossible."
"Speak," Alpha Gideon commanded, though the effort of raising his voice sent him into another coughing fit.
"The humans with them," the scout said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They're not ordinary humans. They move too fast, too quietly. And their eyes..." He shuddered. "Their eyes glow in the dark, just like ours do when we shift."
The chamber fell silent except for the Alpha's labored breathing. What the scout described was impossible—humans could not possess wolf abilities. It violated every law of nature the pack understood.
"Enhanced humans," Elder Morwen murmured, as if the words tasted bitter on her tongue. "I had hoped the old legends were just stories."
"What legends?" Malachi asked, though something in his voice suggested he might already know.
"Stories of humans who learned to steal the gifts of other creatures," Morwen replied, her ancient eyes now hard as flint. "Humans who could take the strength of bears, the sight of eagles... or the pack bonds of wolves."
The implications hit everyone at once. If humans could somehow steal wolf abilities, they would no longer be the weaker species to be avoided. They could become predators in their own right.
"This changes everything," Elder Gareth said grimly. "If such humans exist, and they are working with the Bloodmoon Clan..."
"Then we are facing an enemy unlike any we have encountered before," Morwen finished.
Adonijah felt the pressure in his chest building again, more intense than before. Images flashed through his mind—the withered deer in the clearing, the unnatural way they had died, the complete absence of normal forest life in the blighted areas. And something else, a connection he couldn't quite grasp but that felt vitally important.
He stepped forward again, this time moving directly toward Elder Morwen. The ancient wolf watched him approach, her expression unreadable.
When he was close enough that only she could see, Adonijah raised his hand and began to gesture. Not the simple hand signals he used with Rhys, but something more complex, more urgent. His fingers moved in patterns that seemed to carry meaning beyond mere communication.
Morwen's eyes widened. "By the ancestors," she breathed. "You can sense it, cannot you? The connection between the blight and our enemies."
Every head in the chamber turned toward them. Adonijah nodded once, his golden eyes blazing with an intensity that made several elders step back.
"What connection?" Malachi demanded, moving closer. "What is he trying to tell you, old woman?"
But before Morwen could respond, a sound echoed through the chamber that made everyone freeze in terror. From somewhere far above them, carried on the night wind, came the sound of howling.
It was not the noble call of wolf to wolf.
It was the sound of agony. Of young voices crying out in pain and fear.
The captured pack members were screaming.
Malachi drew his sword in one fluid motion. "That settles it," he declared. "We attack now, before they can harm our young ones further."
"Wait," Morwen commanded, but her voice was drowned out by the agreement of the other elders. Fear for their pack's children had overwhelmed their caution.
As the war council dissolved into urgent planning, Adonijah caught sight of something that made his blood run cold. In all the chaos and shouting, he was the only one who noticed Malachi's brief, satisfied smile.
His cousin was not surprised by the screams.
He had been expecting them.
The trap was closing, and Adonijah was the only one who saw it coming. But with his voice locked away and time running out, how could he possibly warn his pack before it was too late?
Outside, the screaming continued, and with each cry, Adonijah felt something dark awakening in the depths of the forest. Something that had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.