The Fourth Order was healing.
Or at least...
trying to.
The scars of the war stretched across the northern territories like open wounds.
Fortresses remained damaged.
Entire military divisions had vanished.
Supply routes were still being rebuilt.
And countless pyres burned every night beneath the moonlit skies.
Victory had never been the goal.
Survival had.
And even that had come at a cost.
Deep within the capital of the Fourth Order...
inside a palace carved from black stone and silver crystal...
Selene Astrae sat upon her throne.
The Queen of the Fourth.
The Silver Alpha.
The Moon's Chosen.
Her expression remained calm.
Cold.
Unreadable.
But everyone inside the throne room understood the truth.
The war had not gone as planned.
Rows of elders stood beneath the throne.
Generals.
Advisors.
Nobles.
Surviving commanders.
All waiting.
All silent.
The atmosphere was heavy.
Then one elder stepped forward.
Ancient.
Grey-haired.
His face lined by centuries of experience.
"My Queen."
Selene remained silent.
"The war has compromised the balance."
The elder swallowed.
Carefully choosing his next words.
"It was a grave mistake."
Several others immediately stiffened.
The statement bordered on treason.
But the elder continued.
"Our losses were severe."
"The Second Order is gone."
"The Third has doubled its territory."
"Their military strength now exceeds every Order."
"We underestimated Nyxara."
The room grew quiet.
Very quiet.
Then
Selene looked at him.
Nothing else.
Just looked.
The elder immediately froze.
His voice vanished.
His body locked in place.
Sweat appeared on his forehead.
The pressure in the room changed instantly.
Everyone felt it.
The Alpha's gaze.
The elder lowered his head.
And spoke no further.
Selene finally shifted her attention.
"Continue."
The doors opened.
A figure entered.
Malika.
Former Second Lieutenant.
One of the few survivors of the Second Order.
She walked forward.
Dropped to one knee.
"My Queen."
Selene nodded.
"Report."
Malika lowered her head.
"The Third Order continues to expand."
"They have completed absorption of all remaining Second Order territories."
A large map illuminated behind the throne.
Red markers disappeared.
Replaced by silver ones.
The room darkened.
Even the elders looked uneasy.
Malika continued.
"Their resources have increased dramatically."
"Their military infrastructure has recovered faster than expected."
"Recruitment numbers are rising."
"Trade routes have expanded."
"Their influence continues spreading."
One of the generals cursed quietly.
Another elder shook his head.
The Third Order had become a giant.
And giants were difficult to kill.
Selene remained silent.
Expressionless.
"Anything else?"
Malika hesitated.
Only for a moment.
Then she spoke.
"My Queen."
"Riven Thorn has awakened."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The entire room froze.
The temperature seemed to drop.
Several elders instinctively stepped backward.
Because they felt it.
The shift.
The change.
The moment the news reached Selene.
Crack.
The armrest beneath her fingers shattered.
Not from force.
From pressure alone.
A pulse of aura erupted from her body.
BOOOOOOOOOM!!
The throne room shook violently.
Cracks raced across the walls.
Windows shattered.
Several elders collapsed instantly.
The sheer force of Alpha Dominance flooded the chamber.
Raw.
Violent.
Ancient.
For one terrifying second...
it felt as though the entire palace might collapse.
Then
It stopped.
Selene exhaled.
The aura vanished.
Control returned.
The room remained deathly silent.
No one dared speak.
No one dared move.
Malika kept her head lowered.
Heart pounding.
Because she had never seen Selene react like that before.
Not once.
Then slowly...
the Queen smiled.
A small smile.
A dangerous one.
"Alive..."
The word escaped her lips.
Softly.
Almost lovingly.
But there was no warmth behind it.
Only hatred.
Months ago...
Riven Thorn had been a threat.
An inconvenience.
A dangerous variable.
Nothing more.
Now...
it was different.
Now it was personal.
The boy had shattered her plans.
Destroyed her campaign.
Killed one of the strongest warriors in existence.
And worst of all...
he kept surviving.
Every time he should have died.
He survived.
Every time fate cornered him.
He escaped.
Like the world itself refused to let him fall.
Selene's silver eyes narrowed.
"No."
Her voice echoed through the throne room.
Almost a whisper.
"He cannot become him."
Nobody understood.
Except Malika.
Because she had heard the stories.
The legends.
The ancient name.
Varokh Rexar.
The Wolf King.
The one who once united the wolves.
The one whose blood sealed the Void.
The one whose return was spoken of only in prophecy.
Selene slowly rose from her throne.
The room instantly became tense.
"If he continues growing..."
She looked toward the moon visible beyond the shattered windows.
"The balance will break."
Nobody dared answer.
Because deep down...
they all feared she was right.
Far away.
Beyond the Fourth Order.
Beyond mountains.
Beyond kingdoms.
Beyond war.
A lone fortress stood atop a black cliff overlooking endless darkness.
Ancient.
Silent.
Forgotten by most of the world.
Yet feared by all who knew of it.
Within its highest chamber...
sat Aurelion Kharos.
The First Progenitor.
The Strongest Werewolf Alive.
The Alpha of the First Order.
Unlike Selene's throne room...
his chamber was empty.
No advisors.
No elders.
No guards.
Because none were necessary.
Aurelion sat alone.
One hand supporting his chin.
Bored.
Until a messenger entered.
The warrior immediately dropped to one knee.
"My Lord."
Aurelion didn't look up.
"What?"
"The Fracture has awakened."
Silence.
Then
Aurelion smiled.
A genuine smile.
The first one he had shown in months.
"So."
He leaned back.
"He's finally awake."
The messenger remained kneeling.
Too afraid to speak.
Aurelion's golden eyes drifted toward the distant horizon.
Toward the Third Order.
Toward a boy who had somehow survived him.
Again.
Most warriors feared prophecy.
Most rulers feared change.
Most Alphas feared uncertainty.
Aurelion feared none of them.
If anything...
he welcomed it.
Because for centuries...
nothing had challenged him.
Nothing had excited him.
Nothing had felt alive.
Then came Riven Thorn.
The boy who carried the Moon.
The Shadow.
And now...
something else.
Something new.
Aurelion's smile widened.
"Grow stronger."
His voice was quiet.
Yet somehow filled the entire chamber.
"Much stronger."
Because somewhere deep within his instincts...
Aurelion could feel it.
The world was moving again.
Ancient pieces were shifting.
Old legends were waking.
And the path toward Varokh Rexar had begun.
The coming storm would not belong to the Third.
Or the Fourth.
Or even the First.
It would belong to the one standing at its center.
Riven Thorn.
And when that day came...
The strongest werewolf in history intended to be waiting.