The night was never meant to have two moons.
And yet there it was—a second orb, vast and bloodlit, rising slowly over the silhouette of Kaladorn. Unlike the true moon, its surface was not smooth or silver. It throbbed, pulsing faintly as if alive, like something wrapped in a thin skin of light… or caged within it.
Jonas didn't breathe.
He couldn't.
No one did.
The Ashfang fell still, their golden eyes reflecting that unnatural glow. Some lowered their heads in what looked like reverence. Others growled, low and unsettled. Even the wind seemed to pause, afraid to touch the thing rising from the black horizon.
"What… is that?" Jonas whispered.
Elena's voice was small—not frightened, but hollowed out.
> "It's not a moon."
Elric stood with both blades drawn. He said nothing. He simply stared.
"It's the Gate," Elena continued. "Or rather… its shadow."
Jonas turned to her slowly. "The Gate has a shadow?"
"No. Not always. Only when it's beginning to open."
The ground beneath their feet trembled, subtle at first. A slow, rhythmic pulse—like a heartbeat too massive for the earth to bear.
Jonas's hand drifted to Whisperfang. The blade vibrated gently against his palm. It knew. The moon knew. The wolves knew.
Everything that was once asleep was waking.
He turned to Gharan. "Is this the Hollow King?"
The elder wolf's eyes remained locked on the sky. "No. This is the doorway to him."
"You mean to say that… thing is a passage?"
Gharan nodded solemnly. "The Gate was never simply a seal in the ground. It's an echo across all layers of reality. Once opened in one form, it opens in all."
Jonas took a slow step back. "So if Malik opened it in Kaladorn—"
"Then the rest of the kingdom has already begun to bleed," Gharan finished.
Their camp—nestled among sacred roots of moonwood trees—was no longer safe.
The wolves knew it first. They shifted subtly in their stances, packs forming tighter clusters. Younglings were tucked behind veterans. Elena moved quickly, gathering supplies, while Elric began carving runes into the dirt.
"We need to move," Elric snapped. "Now."
"Where to?" Jonas asked.
"The Ruined Circle," Elena said without looking up. "It's where the original Pact was bound—the first oath made between man and wolfblood."
"It still exists?"
"It's buried. Hidden. But not forgotten."
Gharan gave Jonas a long look. "Only you can wake it."
"Why me?"
"Because only the heir of Fen'kaar carries enough of the moon's breath to stir its bones."
Jonas didn't argue.
Not anymore.
There was a weight in his chest now—heavy, but strangely right. As if his soul was finally settling into the shape it had always been meant to wear.
They traveled through the Crooked Paths, a hidden route beneath the forest known only to those born before the Fall. It wound beneath the trees like an artery, stone-carved and bone-lined. Ancient markings glowed faintly along the ceiling, runes lost to common tongue.
As they descended deeper, the light dimmed.
Not from the absence of sun.
From the presence of something else.
Elric paused at a crossroads, fingers brushing the stones. "There's movement. Ahead. But it's not natural."
"You mean Hollowborn?" Jonas asked.
"No," Elric said. "Worse. Hollow-touched. People twisted by proximity to the Gate—still human enough to deceive, but broken enough to destroy."
Jonas shuddered. "Is that what I could become?"
"No," Elena said sharply. "You're moonblood. You were born to close the Gate, not fall into it."
"But what if I fall anyway?"
"Then you'll rise different," she said simply. "Stronger. If you survive."
By the time they reached the Ruined Circle, the second moon had risen high above Kaladorn. It bathed the ancient columns in red light, casting strange shadows that moved on their own.
The Circle itself was buried beneath centuries of moss and silence. But as Jonas stepped forward, the earth began to remember him.
Vines withdrew. Stones shifted. The center glowed faintly beneath his boots.
He knelt, placing his hand on the cold surface.
And the world split.
He was no longer in the forest.
He stood in a gray space. Not a room. Not a memory. But something in-between.
Before him was a throne—forged from blackened bone, draped in the skins of gods.
And on that throne sat a figure.
Tall.
Still.
Wrapped in a shifting shroud of shadow and whispers.
Jonas could not see its face—only the eyes. Red. Eternal.
The Hollow King.
> "You again," the voice said. "Born of flame and fang. Little prince of broken wolves."
Jonas trembled.
> "You carry a name that bled the Pact dry."
"I don't want your power," Jonas whispered.
> "And yet you open my door with every step."
The throne room shook.
> "You are not savior. You are storm."
Jonas shouted, "Then I will be the storm that buries you!"
The Hollow King stood.
And the Gate beneath Jonas's feet opened—
He collapsed in the Circle, smoke streaming from his skin.
Elena caught him. "What did you see?"
He couldn't answer.
Only one word formed in his mouth:
> "War."
And then it happened.
From the trees behind them—the path they thought was safe—came the sound.
Not a roar.
Not a growl.
But a moan.
Long.
Wet.
Wrong.
The Ashfang turned. Gharan drew his weapon.
Then—they emerged.
Dozens of figures.
Crawling, staggering, twitching in ways nobody should.
Skin torn. Joints backward. Some had faces. Some had none. Some had too many.
The Hollowborn.
And in their front stood one taller than the rest.
He wore no armor. His chest was bare, carved with runes that bled black ink. His mouth split too far across his face, teeth like needles.
He pointed at Jonas.
> "Give us the Fangmarked."
Elric stepped forward, blades raised. "You'll die before you touch him."
"Die?" the creature laughed. "I have already. So have they."
The Hollowborn charged.
Jonas's eyes burned.
His blades flew to his hands.
Something inside him—not rage, not fear—but wild memory rose to the surface.
And he howled.
It was not a sound of man.
It was not of beast.
It was a call.
Of ancient things. Of bound wolves. Of bloodlines buried under cities.
And the Ashfang answered.
Twelve voices joined his.
Then twenty.
Then more.
As the night ignited into chaos—
The moon cracked.