The wolves returned to Jide's mansion under a heavy silence. The night air was thick with sorrow, and even the forest seemed to mourn.
They gathered in the courtyard, eyes hollow, hearts shattered — their Alpha, their leader, their symbol of unity, was gone.
Ige stood at the center, his shoulders trembling with contained grief. His gaze swept over the pack — faces young and old, all marked by the same pain. Without an Alpha, they were vulnerable. Some would lose hope. Others might even seek safety in enemy ranks.
His eyes fell upon Jide's lifeless body lying in the middle of the courtyard. A choked sob escaped him. Around him, others shifted to human form, their transformations unplanned — grief had stripped them bare in every sense.
No one cared about their nakedness; only the loss mattered.
Whether it was an elder who had fought beside Jide for decades or a young wolf he had personally turned, the pain was the same — raw, sharp, and consuming.
Ige clenched his fists. "We've lost our Alpha…" he muttered, his voice trembling, "…but not his spirit."
The words barely held him together, but they stopped the pack from falling apart completely.
---
Ige stood tall before the silent pack, his voice heavy with both sorrow and conviction.
"All hope might seem lost," he began, his words echoing through the cold night, "but as they say, darkness gives birth to light."
The wolves raised their heads, eyes glinting faintly, waiting.
Ige turned slowly toward the center of the courtyard, his gaze resting on Jide's body. "Tade!" he called, his voice carrying authority and grief.
From among the pack, a young man stepped forward — Jide's only son. His eyes were wet, his jaw trembling.
Ige placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you are the one hurt the most," he said softly. "But now, you bear your father's duties."
He stepped back, his expression solemn. "Unsheath your claws," he commanded, "and plunge your hand into your father's heart."
Gasps rippled through the pack. Tade froze — confusion and fear battling inside him — but his loyalty outweighed both. His claws extended, glinting under the moonlight.
With a deep breath, he thrust his hand forward — straight into his father's chest.
A surge of power erupted. His body convulsed as his scream tore through the silence. His eyes flashed green… then yellow… then orange… until they settled into a blazing red. The ground itself seemed to pulse with the transformation.
Ige's voice rose above the wind. "You carry your father's powers and duties," he declared. "Do not fail him!"
The pack fell to their knees, trembling under the wave of new Alpha energy that rolled across them.
Then Ige turned to them all, his voice thunderous:
"Your Alpha is reborn!"
In unison, every wolf shifted into their hybrid form — half-man, half-beast — and howled toward the blood-red moon, their voices a mix of grief and triumph.
---
In a shadowed part of the forest, three figures moved swiftly beneath the whispering trees — Tolu, Ore, and Bode — heading back toward their secluded home.
Tolu's mind was clouded with questions. He didn't know why they had brought him here, but one thing was certain: if they meant him harm, he'd already be dead a hundred times over. Still, something inside him felt strange — a pull deep in his chest, a heat spreading through his veins.
Suddenly, he staggered and fell to the ground, clutching his chest. His heartbeat thundered painfully, every pulse echoing like a drum.
Ore knelt beside him, her voice trembling. "Dad—what's happening to him?"
Bode's expression darkened, his sharp eyes fixed on Tolu's glowing veins. He exhaled slowly.
"Ige is performing the ritual… much sooner than I expected."
The air around them vibrated faintly — the same pulse that had shaken the entire forest moments ago. Bode's face hardened. He bit into his own finger, drawing a thin line of crimson.
"Hold him still," he said.
Before Ore could ask, he let a drop of his blood fall into Tolu's open mouth. The effect was immediate — the pain ebbed, the glowing veins dimmed, and Tolu's breathing steadied.
When he opened his eyes again, they glowed faintly amber for a split second before returning to normal.
Bode studied him for a moment, then said quietly, "It's done."
Tolu sat up weakly, confused. "What… did you do to me?"
Bode looked into the dark forest, his tone deep and final.
"You're one of my own now."
---
In the dim glow of the mansion's war-room, the candles threw long tongues of light over maps and jars of powders. Men and women moved quietly at the edges, cleaning weapons and stowing traps. Ajamu and Aderonke stood apart from them, heads close as they spoke in measured tones.
"Now that he's gone," Ajamu said, tracing a route on the map with one finger, "we should leave for the ancestral tombs at first light tomorrow. If we secure what's there, no one can stand against us."
Aderonke's smile was soft, almost indulgent. "Good. That's best." . Ajamus asks "By the way—why didn't you just have Jide killed outright with what I set? With that kind of backing, I'm surprised you held back."
Ronke's mouth tightened. "If you'd done it the way you wanted, the Yeye Agba would've had cause—any excuse—to move against you. I don't want her turning our problem into our own burial. We play by their rules when it suits us; we bend them when we must."
Aderonke shrugged, unbothered. "I always work around rules so they work for me. That's why she watches me—waiting for any reason to end me. It's annoying, but manageable."
Ajamu blinked, surprised. "You actually smile about that? Even though she wants you dead?"
She laughed, low and confident. "It's not that bad. The Yeye Agba follows precedent. Her coven reveres the old bindings; they've carried the power of their foremothers for generations. That power is dangerous—so dangerous it must be chained by law and ritual. If she ever truly abandons the rules, she'd wipe us all out before we could breathe."
Ajamu's hand tightened on the table. "So we can't touch the witches."
"Never," Aderonke said flatly. "If you strike at a coven unprepared, you die before your blade leaves its sheath. We use the treaties, the loopholes, distractions. That's how you survive a witch's attention."
Ajamu exhaled and nodded once. "Understood. Tomorrow, then—the tombs. Bring your wards and your best people."
She dipped her head. "I will. Prepare your men. Have the scouts cage the eastern road and bring the pale jars. At dawn we move."
They both turned to the maps again, voices dropping into the small, efficient rhythms of conspirators. Outside, the mansion seemed to hold its breath; inside, plans were already folding themselves into motion.