Night cloaked Shadowfang territory as Nyra stood at the edge of the sacred burial grounds. Tall stone markers rose from the earth like silent sentinels, each etched with the names of fallen wolves who had defended the pack across centuries.
A cold wind drifted through the clearing, carrying whispers that stirred the fur along the warriors' spines.
Kael stood beside Nyra, his posture alert, golden eyes scanning the shadows. Behind them waited a carefully chosen group — Eryndor, three elder guardians, and four of Shadowfang's strongest young warriors.
No one spoke loudly.
The burial grounds demanded silence.
Nyra stepped forward, placing her hand over the oldest grave marker. The Blood Moon relic pulsed softly beneath her ribs, glowing through her skin like a heartbeat answering the dead.
"We enter with honor," she said quietly. "We seek knowledge from those who came before us. We do not disturb their rest unless they choose to speak."
The air shifted.
Silver mist rose from the ground, swirling gently around Nyra's feet before drifting toward a cracked stone altar at the center of the burial grounds — the hidden entrance marked in the ancient map.
Kael moved closer. "That's our path."
Nyra nodded.
She pressed her palm against the altar.
The earth trembled as ancient runes ignited beneath her hand. Stone shifted with a grinding echo, revealing a spiraling staircase descending into darkness. Cold air rushed upward, smelling of damp soil and forgotten centuries.
The warriors exchanged uneasy glances, but none hesitated.
"Stay close," Kael ordered. "No one moves alone."
Torches ignited as they began their descent.
The tunnel walls were carved with murals older than recorded pack history. Wolves fought creatures of shadow. Ritual circles burned with strange symbols. Some carvings had been violently scratched away, as if someone had tried to erase parts of the past.
Nyra traced one damaged mural.
"They tried to remove evidence," she whispered.
Eryndor studied another carving. "Not erase… hide."
The tunnel opened into a vast underground chamber supported by natural stone pillars. At its center stood a ring of ancient wolf statues, each frozen mid-howl, their eyes carved with haunting realism.
The moment Nyra stepped inside, the statues trembled.
A pulse of ghostly light filled the chamber.
Figures began forming — translucent wolves shaped from silver mist. Their eyes glowed with ancient intelligence and sorrow.
Ancestral spirits.
The warriors instinctively lowered their heads in respect.
One spirit stepped forward — larger than the others, its fur shimmering like frost beneath moonlight.
Nyra felt recognition strike her chest.
"You carry our blood," the spirit spoke, its voice echoing directly into their minds.
Nyra knelt slowly. "I seek guidance. A prison beneath this land is weakening. The Hollow King stirs."
The chamber darkened at the name.
"You speak of our greatest failure," the spirit replied. "We sought power beyond life. We believed death was weakness. Our arrogance birthed the Hollow King."
Kael stepped forward cautiously. "Can it be destroyed?"
The spirits exchanged silent glances.
"Destroyed… perhaps," the leader answered. "But doing so risks releasing the bound souls trapped within him. Many are innocent — wolves consumed against their will."
Nyra's chest tightened.
"There must be another way."
The spirit's glowing gaze softened.
"There is a ritual of severance," it said. "It separates corrupted souls from the Hollow King. But it requires the Blood Moon heir to descend into the prison's heart… and face the spirits within alone."
Kael stiffened immediately. "Absolutely not."
Nyra placed a calming hand on his arm but kept her eyes on the spirit. "What happens if I fail?"
"The Hollow King will awaken fully," the spirit answered. "And your soul will join the prison forever."
Silence crushed the chamber.
Kael's voice dropped into a growl. "Then we find another option."
"There is none," Eryndor said quietly, though pain filled his tone.
Nyra inhaled slowly, her silver veins glowing brighter. Fear flickered within her… but so did duty.
"I will do it," she said.
Kael grabbed her wrist. "Nyra—"
She turned toward him, her expression gentle but unshakable.
"I am the Blood Moon heir," she said softly. "If I refuse this burden, Shadowfang will pay the price."
Kael's jaw clenched, conflict blazing in his eyes. But slowly… painfully… he released her wrist.
"Then I go as far as the prison entrance," he said firmly. "I don't leave you until I have no choice."
Nyra smiled faintly. "That's all I need."
The ancestral spirits stepped aside, revealing a massive sealed gate carved into the far wall. Chains of glowing runes wrapped around it like restraints barely holding something back.
Low, hollow echoes rumbled from behind the gate.
Something massive shifted… sensing them.
The spirit leader spoke once more.
"The prison awaits below. And the Hollow King has begun to dream again."
Nyra rose, her silver aura flaring as she stared at the gate.
"Then we end his nightmare," she whispered.
The runes flickered.
The chains trembled.
And deep beneath Shadowfang territory… something ancient began to awaken.