Thornak rode ahead of his men, the weight of his thoughts heavy. His horse's hooves echoed on the frozen earth. The wind blew hard against his cloak, making the fur-lined edges flap like war flags. His senses were sharp, alert to every small change in the air. But what held his focus most was the feeling in his chest, the pull toward Lara, that kept him grounded.
He could still feel her warmth. His wolf stirred restlessly within him, a reminder of the bond that was both exhilarating and unsettling.
It didn't make sense. The Moon Goddess had chosen her for him, a wolfless werewolf. And he, a Lycan. Their worlds, their roles, were supposed to be as far apart as the moon and the earth. Yet when he had seen her in that forest, dying, when he had felt the surge of their connection flood through him like a torrent, everything had shifted. His kingdom, his purpose, they all seemed meaningless when faced with the undeniable truth.
She was his woman.
The weight of it was staggering. His mind wanted to focus on the mission and to find out who had attacked Lara, why, and how to prevent any further threats to the kingdom. But his heart was torn between his duty and the undeniable pull to be by her side.
"We'll be at Frostmere's border very soon Thorn," Ruvan called out from behind him, pulling Thornak from his thoughts.
Thornak nodded but didn't turn to face his Gamma. His gaze remained fixed ahead, the horizon barely visible through the thick trees. His wolf was alert, pacing restlessly within him, eager to return to the palace, to Lara.
"I've sent scouts ahead to confirm the situation," Ruvan continued. "But there's something about this that doesn't feel right. Whatever we're facing, it's more than just rogue wolves."
"I know," Thornak muttered, his jaw clenching as he pushed his horse forward, urging it to move faster.
But Thornak's mind was already far from the threat at hand. He could feel the pulse of the bond between him and Lara, distant yet undeniable, like an anchor in his chest. He knew he needed to focus, to be the king his people expected, but the call of the bond made it hard to think of anything else.
Thornak's horse kicked up sand as he approached the small clearing where his scouts were waiting. The group had fanned out across the perimeter, their eyes sharp and their bodies taut with the anticipation of battle. The scent of the forest still clung to the air, but it was the sense of something wrong, something out of place, that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
He reined in his horse, his gaze sweeping across the group as they approached. His scouts, hardened by years of service, stood straight and alert. They were used to operating under pressure, but this felt different. There was tension in the air.
"Report," Thornak commanded, his voice low and steady, but edged with an urgency that couldn't be ignored.
The leader of the scouts, a tall man named Karv, stepped forward, his expression was grim. "We've seen signs, my King. There's movement along the border. Small, but it's not normal." He handed Thornak a bundle of tattered cloth. "This was found near the western pass."
Thornak unfolded the cloth slowly. It was coarse linen, torn and blackened at the edges with strange markings on it, the fabric brittle where fire had touched it. A strange, acrid scent lingered on it, smoke, yes, but laced with something fouler. Magic. His gut twisted.
He held it up to the light, fingers tracing the singed fibers. "This wasn't from a campfire," he muttered. "Something burned this on purpose. Blood magic, maybe."
Ruvan leaned in, his expression tight. "Rogues don't use fire. They tear, they maim, they don't scorch."
"Exactly," Thornak said, eyes hardening.
"You think it's the same force behind the patrol disappearances?"
Thornak nodded once. "I do. This cloth… it's a message. Whoever's doing this isn't hiding anymore."
"Have you found any tracks?" Thornak asked, his gaze moving across the clearing.
Karv nodded. "Yes. But they're strange. Not like any wolf I've seen before."
Thornak clenched his fists at his sides. This wasn't rogue activity. This wasn't some random skirmish between rival packs. Someone was orchestrating this, someone with a plan.
"Set up a perimeter," Thornak ordered, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "I want a full sweep of the area. No one is to approach without my command. And no one goes into the forest alone."
Karv nodded and began issuing commands to the other scouts, who quickly dispersed into the trees, their movements smooth and practiced.
Thornak remained where he was, his senses stretching out, trying to grasp anything that would give him a clue about the threat they were facing. But the air was too quiet, the only sound the wind rustling through the branches and the occasional call of distant birds.
"This is just the beginning," Ruvan said quietly, riding up alongside him. "Whoever's behind this, they're not finished yet."
Thornak didn't answer immediately. His thoughts were clouded with the image of Lara, still recovering in his chambers. The weight of the bond between them thrummed through him, a constant reminder of her presence, her safety. His wolf growled low in his chest, eager to return to her side.
"We'll find them," Thornak said, his voice firm. "And when we do, there will be no mercy."
Karv returned a short while later with a pale face. "There's something we found, my King," he said, his voice tight. "There's an old ruin not far from here. We believe it's where they were hiding."
Thornak's brows furrowed. "Describe it."
"It's an old ruin deep in the western ridge, hidden by thick bushes and twisted trees. The open space around it felt strange. The trees nearby were dead, their bark dark and burned, like fire had eaten them from the inside. And the air smelled odd, like something wasn't right."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "There's a bloodstain near an altar. It looked new, not more than a day old."
Ruvan cursed low. "Ritual site."
Karv nodded. "Yes, and the altar at the center, it's been used. The ash was warm and there were remnants of burned cloth, like the one we brought. There were also bones arranged in a pattern. Not old bones, either. Some had flesh still clinging. Animals… maybe humans. Maybe not."
The words struck Thornak like a physical blow. Dark magic. The kind that could only be conjured by those who understood the ancient, forbidden ways of power. His stomach twisted, a cold knot forming deep inside him.
"Lead the way," Thornak ordered, his voice clipped. "And make sure the perimeter is secure. We move now."