Silence the Alpha
The smoke of the massacred villages had not yet cleared when Alaric assembled his war council beneath the Moonstone Arch.
Gone were the large strategy maps and multi-front plans. This time, there was only a single black-marked scroll resting in the center of the table. One mission. One target.
"Warrick Bloodfang dies," Alaric said quietly.
Silence followed.
Kael stepped forward first. "You're planning an assassination."
"A surgical strike," Mira corrected. "He's the head. The rest are blind fury."
"Warrick won't fall to blades alone," Lira added. "He's wrapped in shadow magic. Surrounded by zealots. And worse—he's begun resurrecting the Shadebound."
Alaric looked at each of them. "That's why I'm going in. Myself."
Gasps. Kael took a step forward. "You're the last Alpha. If you fall—"
"If I fall," Alaric said, "then we all fall anyway. Because no army survives a monster that doesn't sleep. This isn't just war anymore. It's ritual. And I have to unmake him from within."
---
The Plan – Five Wolves, One Mission
Alaric would lead a five-wolf team deep into the Ironfang Hollow.
Alaric – Alpha and focus of the strike, carrying a twin-edged rune blade forged in Moonfire.
Lira – Silent blade. Expert in infiltration and illusion casting.
Kael – Vanguard. Heavy claws, brute strength, and iron loyalty.
Nyra – Scout and archer, once trained in the ruins near Ironfang before her tribe was destroyed.
Thorne – The inside man. A turncoat Ironfang commander now risking everything to redeem his bloodline.
The mission would be silent, swift, and final.
---
Nightfall – Infiltration Begins
Draped in enchanted cloaks and laced with blood-dulling scent powder, the five wolves moved like whispers through pine and frost.
The Ironfang Hollow loomed ahead—a jagged canyon wrapped in chains and bone effigies. Red runes glowed on the spires. Shadebound patrols stalked the outer walls, soulless and twitching.
Lira whispered a spell beneath her breath—Obscura Noctem—and their bodies faded from moonlight, becoming silhouettes in the dark.
"Stay low," Alaric murmured. "No kills unless ordered. We breach the sanctum before dawn."
---
Inside the Hollow
Thorne led them through a forgotten crevice, a bloodied scar in the stone once used by exiled Ironfang for executions. Now it was a tunnel of silence and rot.
As they descended, the chanting began—low, guttural, unnatural.
"Warrick's begun the Final Binding, hasn't he?" Nyra whispered. "He means to become more than wolf. More than Alpha."
Alaric's reply was a whisper of steel drawn from its sheath. "Then we kill him before the rite completes."
---
The Sanctum – First Blood
They breached the lower sanctum as the full moon passed its apex. Inside, a terrible sight met them:
Twelve warriors knelt in a circle of ash and blood. At the center, Warrick stood half-transformed—his body radiating raw, ancient power. His skin split with glowing sigils. His claws shimmered like obsidian.
"I smell fear," Warrick said, eyes closed.
Thorne tensed. "He senses us."
Then the world exploded.
Alaric dropped the cloak, leapt forward with his twin blades, and crashed into the circle of blood. Kael charged beside him, roaring as his greatsword cleaved a Shadebound in two.
The sanctum became a maelstrom of light and shadow—sigils flaring, blood magic twisting the air. Wolves screamed. Illusions shattered. Arrows sang.
Alaric drove his blade toward Warrick's throat—only to be hurled back by a shockwave of corrupted force.
Warrick rose, fully changed now, towering over them—fur lined with molten scars, antlers like twisted iron, eyes black as starless skies.
"You think you've come to kill a wolf," Warrick growled.
He spread his arms.
"You've come to kill the night itself."
---
End Scene – Collapse
Alaric stood, broken-ribbed but unbowed, blood matting his fur.
He locked eyes with Warrick and spoke with cold finality.
"Then I'll rip the night down myself."
The sanctum shook as the final phase of the ritual neared its end.
The fight to silence the Alpha had truly begun.