Shadows in the Water, Colors on the Border, and Whispers from the Grave
These hollowed halls had been here long before the Silver Moon Pack claimed them. The soft stone etched in eternally glowing runes and sigils from days long forgotten. His people found them and they first welcomed and then claimed his people.
Now these halls only recognized the werewolves of the Silver Moon Pack. Once one of them died their name appeared upon the wall in a seemingly random place. Even Alpha and elder was placed where the halls saw fit and to visit your loved ones you had to follow their aura to their name.
The first time he had come he had to find his grandfather. The trek was long and he learned much, about himself, and about who he thought he was. He had finally understood the difference in the two.
The narrow corridor opened and then branched off. To the right was the ancient writings and to the left were the names, and residual auras of their dead. He stopped for a moment, like most did, and took several deep breaths.
Then he proceeded to the right. His skin itched as his wolf rose to meet the call of its home. This was now a place that reached deep into Silver Moon blood. This place defined them and their wolves were born of the truths and the lights of these hallowed halls.
His breath caught for a moment as the room spoke to him. It knew of the new technique forged from the unique bond between him and Amber and it wad calling him to bare. It wanted what it was due.
If you took of the hall you had to give back. It patiently waited but when it sensed a chance for a debt paid it called for its return as soon as possible.
But he could never show her this place. She could never know who he was, at least not until he had his revenge. When her baby was snatched up and far away she could know and when she knew he wanted to see her misery her …
The thought was cut off and burned white hot I to his brain. His wolf moved and his entire body tensed.
"Our baby."
It was a growl and a word. An emotion and a stern command.
He struggled to gain control, the walls of this sacred place bearing witness to this tug of war.
His body half changed. His left side human and his right werewolf, and the battle began. An epic mental battle between two sides of the same coin. And then, one moment he struggled and the next he laid unconscious on the floor.
He slowly stirred, back at the fork in the road. Not sent her because he was unwelcomed but returned because his he and his wolf, he and Moas, were no longer aligned. What could he do? His mind was made up and love would not change it.
He rose awkwardly and moved to the left and the ancient names of his people. He pushed the images of the circular rooms with walls filled with ancient writing and focused on his family embracing him.
He entered and he almost rejoiced at the hum that pushed through his chest. It was the welcoming from his family. It was them rejoicing in him being and then three auras sought him out and pulled him to them.
Without these, no matter how many times you had graced these halls you would become utterly lost. Traveling these broad halls of stark white stone was a rite of passage for a young Silver Moon wolf and if you became lost and died your remains had to stay where they fell because this was your debt and payment not fully embracing your clan.
Marco moved unerringly to the strongest pull, the pull of his Alisa. She waited for him in a back hall just as pristine as all the others. He entered the hall and the blue writing flared on the walls in greeting. All fading back to their normal state except for one, all except Alisa's name.
He stood before her name in reverence and love and he felt her. He felt her love, he felt how she honored him and missed him and slowly, very slowly he felt her confusion then her astonishment and finally her fury.
He took it all as if it were nothing but love, until disappointment flowed into him, trying to crush him. It didn't matter. He still smiled he still showed his love even when the glow in her name died away and dismissed him he stood there.
The auras of his parents calling to him and that of his Alisa turned away. Suddenly he was numb. His mind still a steel trap created by Tiffany. But he knew. He knew but he stubbornly dismissed.
His Alisa had flicked at that spark of love he had for Amber and commanded him to stop and heed it. He told her no and denied the existence of such a thing.
He had walked the remaining brilliantly white corridors to two more rooms to visit his mother and father and then he left, his heart stricken and his façade severally cracked.
The mountain swallowed sound as Marco descended, each step echoing against stone cut by centuries of Silver Moon hands. Torches lit the spiral path, their flames bending whenever his aura flared. He had already visited the chamber of the Sacred Walls, tracing his fingers across the etched names of his parents and the cold, final mark of Alisa. And he was admonished by all three.
Grief and rage still boiled in his chest, and that fire carried him now into the earth's veins.
Even as the truth of the love that Alisa pricked scorched him from within.
The air grew damp. Faint rushing water rose in the distance. Soon the tunnel opened into a cavern so vast it felt like the bones of the world had been hollowed out.
The Water Caves.
Moonlight never touched this place. Instead, glowing fungus painted the walls in ghostly green, mingling with the flicker of fire torches wedged into cracks. Three waterfalls thundered from hidden clefts above, crashing into black pools below. Stone bridges arched across canals that twisted through the cavern floor, each span slick from spray.
Cells had been carved between stalagmites and stalactites that reached for one another like jagged teeth. Some closed naturally; others had been chained with iron to form makeshift cages. The prisoners within stood in water of varying depths—some only ankle-deep, some waist-deep, and one wretch struggled with water lapping at his chin, head jerking above the surface in desperate gasps. At night, when the tide receded, the water fell low enough to grant a cruel semblance of rest. By dawn it rose again, erasing mercy.
Marco's boots thudded against the stone bridge as he crossed. The vampires lifted their heads, sensing him. Their eyes gleamed red in the dark, but fear soured their defiance. Their scent carried decay and hunger, a reminder of how close they were to breaking.
And then came another scent. Not wolf. Not human.
Wrong.
It clung to the air like mildew, curling against his senses, making even his wolf recoil.
The shadelings were near.
Stien and Cros lingered at Tiffany's side, their bodies more defined than when he had first seen them. Not mere shadows now—they had form, sinew, almost faces. Their eyes glowed faintly, like lanterns in fog. When they moved, water rippled away from them, as though the cavern itself shivered.
Tiffany knelt beside one of the vampires. Her hand rested on the prisoner's temple, soft as a lover's touch. "Feed," she whispered.
Stien obeyed. His hand slid to the vampire's skull, and darkness seemed to pour from his palm. The captive gasped, then shuddered, as though something precious was being pulled through his very bones. At first his face slackened in relief—anguish drained away. But soon his features twisted. He shrieked, thrashing against the water, veins bulging as if his very soul were being stripped.
Cros drank deeper, his body trembling with the intake. The vampire's screams rose until he went limp, floating half-conscious against his chains.
Marco studied it all with cold calculation. "Efficient," he said. "Too efficient. You'll break them before they yield what matters."
Tiffany looked up, eyes hard. "Then give the order, Alpha. Shall we stop their feeding, or teach the shades discipline?"
Marco's gaze lingered on the trembling vampires. "Teach them. Slowly. Not all minds are worth keeping. I want shadelings who know how to distinguish weak prey from strong. Train them to seek out those with will, those who resist." His tone sharpened. "The broken are worthless."
Stien and Cros bowed their heads, but their glow pulsed like a heartbeat.
One of the Dark Howl wolves nearby snarled under his breath. "It's wrong, Alpha. These things—"
Marco's power lashed out before the words finished. His aura poured into the cavern like a storm front, pressing down on every throat. Wolves collapsed to their knees, their claws scraping against wet stone. Even Tiffany stilled, her lips parting, as the waterfalls themselves seemed to tremble under his dominance.
"I am Alpha of Silver Moon by blood," Marco growled, voice reverberating through stone. "I am Alpha of Starfire by conquest. If I command shades, then shades will serve. If I command monsters, then monsters will bow. Do you understand?"
The cavern roared with silence. No one dared answer. They were already subdued, bent beneath him.
At last he withdrew his aura, a cruel smile tugging at his mouth. "Good."
Tiffany's eyes lingered on him, sharp as glass, yet approving. The shadelings hissed softly, hunger thick in the sound. Marco ignored them. They were tools—disturbing, yes, but tools nonetheless. And all tools would serve his design.
---
Far above the mountain, the night was quiet.
Adonis trudged through swampy borderland, swatting at gnats. His boots squelched in mud with every step, and his face twisted with irritation. "Why are we going out this far?" he complained. "No one's going to try to claim this marsh. We don't need to be checking here."
Elbon didn't even look back. "Amber told us to make sure the edge of the old Silver Moon territory remains clear. So we check."
Adonis groaned. "I think the pregnancy has her making us overly cautious." He kicked at a root, then suddenly froze. His nostrils flared. Slowly, he dropped into a crouch.
Elbon frowned, finally turning. "What is it?"
Adonis lifted a finger and pointed through the reeds.
Elbon crouched beside him, peering through a veil of swamp mist. His breath stilled. Below, in a clearing where the mud met dark water, two vampires clashed with two wolves wearing Silver Moon colors.
The air carried snarls, roars, the crack of bone.
Elbon's jaw tightened. "That's… not possible."
Adonis's hand flexed toward his weapon. "We need to report this to Amber. Now."
Both men stared at the fight, the weight of revelation pressing against them like a physical thing.
Silver Moon wolves were hunting again.
And the game Marco played in shadows was about to surface.