Riven didn't remember leaving the alley.
He remembered pain.
He remembered blood.
And he remembered the sound of his own heartbeat pounding so loudly it drowned out thought itself.
When consciousness returned, it was gradual like crawling out of deep water. The first thing he noticed was the cold stone pressing against his cheek. The second was the smell.
Ash. Old blood. Wet earth.
He pushed himself upright with a groan. His body felt… wrong. Not injured different. Lighter and heavier at the same time. His muscles responded instantly, without hesitation, as if they were no longer asking permission from his mind.
Riven looked down at his hands.
They were human again.
Mostly.
The claws were gone, but faint black lines traced beneath his skin like scars that hadn't fully healed. His fingernails were thicker, harder. His senses still screamed he could hear dripping water somewhere far beyond the walls, could smell something alive nearby.
He wasn't alone.
The space around him slowly came into focus. He was in a wide underground chamber carved from stone, its walls etched with symbols that glowed faintly under torchlight. Old. Ancient. This place hadn't been made by humans.
Chains hung from the ceiling not restraining anyone now, but stained dark with dried blood.
A circle of werewolves surrounded him.
They stood at varying distances, some in human form, others partially transformed. None looked afraid.
Most looked disgusted.
"So he finally woke up," one of them said, voice rough. A scar ran down his face, pulling one side of his mouth into a permanent sneer. "That's the abomination?"
Riven tried to stand.
The moment he did, a crushing pressure slammed down on him. His knees buckled, stone cracking beneath his feet as he collapsed again, gasping. It felt like the air itself had grown heavier like something invisible was forcing him down.
Authority.
Not an Alpha's not absolute. But strong enough.
"Stay down," another voice said calmly.
A woman stepped forward. She had silver hair tied back tightly, eyes sharp and assessing. Her presence alone radiated control. Not dominance but command earned through violence and survival.
"Easy," she said to the others. "He's not an Alpha. Not yet."
"Yet," someone spat. "He shouldn't exist at all."
Riven clenched his fists, fighting the pressure. "Where am I?"
A ripple of amusement passed through the group.
"You're beneath Threxa," the silver-haired woman replied. "In the lower den. Where mistakes like you end up before decisions are made."
"Decisions?" Riven demanded.
"Execution," another werewolf said casually.
Riven's breath hitched.
The woman raised a hand, silencing the others. "Not yet. We classify first."
She stepped closer, eyes glowing faintly as she focused on him. Riven felt something brush against his chest not physically, but deeper. Like fingers probing his heart.
His Lunar Core reacted violently.
Pain lanced through him, and the pressure vanished instantly.
The woman stumbled back half a step, eyes widening.
"…Interesting."
Murmurs spread.
"What did you see?" someone asked.
She studied Riven more carefully now. "A fractured core. Hybrid resonance. Unstable but real."
Another wolf snarled. "That's impossible. Humans can't."
"They can," she cut in sharply. "If bitten by an Alpha."
Silence.
Every eye turned to Riven.
"Which Alpha?" the scarred one asked slowly.
Riven swallowed. "The one who killed my mother."
The woman's jaw tightened.
"The Progenitor Alpha," she said quietly.
Fear rippled through the chamber.
"That confirms it," someone whispered. "The prophecy."
"Enough," she snapped. "He's not there yet."
She turned back to Riven. "By law, you're classified as a Low Wolf."
Riven frowned. "Low… what?"
"The lowest functional rank," she explained. "Above ferals. Barely."
Insults flew freely now.
"He doesn't even deserve that."
"He slaughtered three of our own without training."
"He's unstable."
Riven's hands shook. "I didn't choose this."
"No," the woman agreed. "But you survived it. And that makes you dangerous."
She gestured to the guards. "Release him."
"What?" several voices protested.
"He'll die anyway," she said coldly. "Low Wolves rarely last a week without a pack."
Riven staggered to his feet as the pressure fully lifted. His instincts screamed at him to run to fight to do something.
"Why not kill me now?" he asked bitterly.
The woman met his gaze. "Because if the prophecy is real… killing you might be what fulfills it."
That chilled him more than any threat.
They opened a side passage a tunnel leading deeper underground.
"Go," she said. "Survive if you can."
As Riven stumbled into the darkness, he felt eyes watching him not just from the chamber, but from far beyond.
From territories ruled by monsters far stronger than him.
The hunt had begun.