The news spread like wildfire.
Not through messengers, not through letter, but through the strange echo that hung in the wind.
A whisper that every Alpha in every pack felt deep inside their bones.
"The dead are rising."
Alphas far and near gathered their inner councils.
In the North Pack, Alpha Raynor pounded his fist on the table.
"This is madness. First the war among the living, now war against the dead?"
His beta whispered, "We must wait for the Supreme Park call. The Alpha King has returned."
Raynor scoffed. "Theo survived the underworld? Impossible."
But fear flickered in his eyes.
Meanwhile, in the East Pack, Alpha Helena gathered her healers.
Her voice shook. "Prepare your herbs. We will have wounded. And we will have losses. This war… is unlike anything we have faced."
In the South Pack, Alpha Jareth trained alone in his courtyard.
Sweat poured from his body, but he refused to stop.
"If the dead come for us," he murmured, "I will not die lying down."
