Banished to the edges of their land, in a falling-apart stone home covered in ivy and sorrow, waited Eldric, the former alpha dethroned by Thorne in a fierce battle of supremacy through which his family was wiped out.
His once strong body, marked from the battle that took his leadership years ago, still carried the feel of great power, but now it trembled with the weight of unhealed scars and boiling regret.
Silver lines ran through his fur, showing wisdom gained from pain that cut deeper than any fang, and his warm brown eyes held the heavy load of lost warnings, brimming with tears he refused to shed.
Eldric had felt the problem starting long before Thorne's craziness grew, a sickening twist in his stomach that grew into a storm of guilt.
In his dreams, the clan's cries faded to nothing, replaced by empty wind over quiet homes, each silence a punch to his chest that left him gasping awake, claws digging into his own palms.
"These killings will destroy us," he said softly to the dancing flame from the fire he made to keep himself warm, his voice rough with held-back anger that choked him like thorns in his throat.
Feelings churned inside him, a mixture of parent's sadness for the dead that ripped at his core like losing his own child again and again, a leader's guilt for not stopping it that burned hotter than any fever, and a deep wild rage that made his claws come out without thinking, scratching the dirt as if to tear open the earth itself.
The memories of how he was overthrown were still fresh, and the pains of losing his family in the process hit him hard like a dagger piercing through his heart.
As he reminisced about these, he knew he had to stop Thorne and put an end to his madness, but he didn't know how yet. "If only I had listened to the signs," Eldric muttered to himself, staring into the flames as if they held answers.
Years ago, when Thorne attacked to claim leadership and become the alpha, Eldric had just received a prophecy about an impending coup against him. He was on border patrol but decided to seek guidance from the seer when Thorne struck and left his household in ruins.
Morwen had been the Silverfang clan's seer for a long time, serving past leaders of the clan; she had helped them overcome challenges, and her prophecies, the clan had never shoved aside.
The clan was his family, his history; to see it bleed away under a false leader's ideas inspired by selfish rage was too much to bear, a torment that clawed at his sanity, urging him toward a reckoning he both craved and feared.
Pushed by a will as strong as the animal in him, yet fragile with the terror of failure, Eldric stood up one stormy morning, his big shape changing partway, fur standing up along his back as thunder matched his inner storm, each boom echoing the frantic beat of his heart.
He would stop this disaster, bring back the balance before the Silverfangs became just a story, but the thought of more blood on his hands twisted his insides with doubt.
But he knew his own power wasn't enough. Thorne's followers were loyal, lost in fear and wrong ideas of purity that blinded them to the growing emptiness in their eyes.
No, he needed knowledge from outside the world of teeth and claws, something to pierce the veil of his desperation. His thoughts went to Morwen, the witch of the Whispering Caves, a seer whose visions had helped him when he was in charge, though recalling her now stirred a mix of hope and old bitterness.
Morwen was no weak old woman; she was a storm in human form, her skin marked with glowing symbols under the moon, her eyes like bright green stones holding hundreds of years of hidden truths that seemed to judge and pity all at once.
Years before, when Eldric led, she had come to him in the middle of the night, her voice smooth like thread spinning danger: "Watch out for the alpha who fears the human touch, for he will flood your people with their own blood."
He had ignored it then as a confusing puzzle, a decision that now haunted him like a ghost, filling him with self-loathing that made his steps falter.
But now her words followed him like a constant shadow, amplifying the ache in his chest. "If only I had heeded you then," Eldric whispered to the wind as he prepared to journey to her cave.
Walking through paths hit by rain, Eldric's feet, half-changed for quickness, hit the mud hard, his breath warm and full of purpose laced with panic, each stride a battle against the voices in his head screaming of too little, too late.
The cave's opening appeared, protected by tricks that opened only for those with real need, and as he approached, his pulse raced with the vulnerability of exposing his broken spirit.
As he stepped inside, the air grew thick with sweet smoke and old magic that wrapped around him like a suffocating embrace, and Morwen stepped from the darkness, her lips forming a wise smile that didn't reach her eyes, shadowed with the weight of foreseen tragedies.
"Eldric, lost king of the wild ones," she said, her words mixed with kindness and strength that pierced his defenses, stirring a whirlwind of longing for the past and dread for what she might demand.
"You arrive at last, as I saw. The paths of fate twist together in knots of blood and betrayal, but with us, we might cut the rope tightening around your clan's neck before it chokes the life from every last beating heart."
"Eldric, what brings you to my cave after all these years?" Morwen asked, her green eyes piercing through him like arrows. "The clan is dying, Morwen," Eldric replied, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Thorne's purge... it's born from his own pain, but it's destroying us all." "I warned you of this," Morwen said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Now, tell me, are you ready to pay the p
rice to save what's left?"