The night came down heavy, thicker than usual. Clouds smothered the moon, leaving only the firelight to push back the dark. We'd worked ourselves to exhaustion during the day—new posts for the stockade, more stones hauled into place—and by the time dinner was done, everyone was ready to collapse.
Everyone but me.
There was something in the air, a tension that didn't ease no matter how much I stretched or paced. The forest was too quiet. No night-birds, no frogs, not even the soft drone of insects. It was the kind of silence that only came when predators were near.
I kept the fire stoked, watching the shadows breathe in and out with the flames. Borgu had already slumped against the half-built wall, his axe still resting on his knees, head lolling back as he snored. Lorian was curled on his bedroll, spear tucked close. Sylvara sat upright with her cloak wrapped around her, eyes closed, though I doubted she was truly asleep.
I stood, hand resting on my sword hilt. The stillness gnawed at me. Old instincts never really faded; years of patrols had burned them too deep.
Then I heard it.
A low, drawn-out howl.
The sound slid through the trees, not the clean note of a wolf but something ragged, broken, like breath rattling through torn lungs. My spine stiffened.
Sylvara's eyes snapped open instantly. "You hear it too," she whispered.
I nodded once. "Wake them."
The next moment, a second howl answered the first. Then another. A chorus rising from different points of the forest. Surrounding us.
Borgu jerked awake, blinking in confusion until his ears twitched. He grabbed his axe and bared his teeth in a grin. "Finally. Orc was getting bored."
Lorian scrambled upright, gripping his spear, pale but determined. His eyes flicked toward me, searching.
"Formation," I ordered. "Back to the fire. Don't break apart. They'll try to split us."
We moved quickly, forming a rough circle around the flames. My sword came free with a whisper of steel, the familiar weight steady in my hands.
The first shadow lunged before the firelight reached it. A wolf, but not.
Its fur was matted with black ichor, patches of skin peeled away to reveal bone glistening underneath. Eyes burned red, glowing like embers. Its fangs dripped with something that hissed when it struck the dirt.
"Wolves," Lorian breathed. His voice cracked. "But gods—what—"
"Not wolves anymore," Sylvara cut him off, her bow rising, an arrow nocked. "Focus."
The beast prowled forward, snarling low, hackles raised. Its movements were too sharp, too deliberate. Not just hunger. Malice.
Then three more shapes slipped from the dark, circling.
"Four." I kept my voice even, though my heart thudded hard. "And more waiting."
The lead wolf snapped its jaws, and the pack surged forward.
The first clash was chaos.
Borgu roared, swinging his axe in a wild arc. The blade met fur and bone with a sickening crack, cleaving through one wolf's shoulder. Black ichor sprayed, sizzling against the fire's sparks. The beast shrieked, half its body hanging loose, but it still tried to bite before Borgu crushed its skull under a boot.
"Ha! Weak mutts!" he bellowed.
Another wolf darted past him, faster, jaws snapping for Lorian's arm. The boy thrust his spear forward on instinct. The point rammed through the wolf's throat, but the momentum carried it forward, slamming into him and knocking him flat. He screamed, struggling to shove the writhing body off.
"Hold!" I barked, cutting down another that lunged at his side. My blade sheared through its spine, hot ichor splattering my arm. The stench burned my nose.
Sylvara loosed arrows in quick succession, each finding its mark. One struck a wolf's eye cleanly, dropping it in a twitching heap. Another sank into a ribcage, slowing but not stopping the creature.
The firelight flickered madly, throwing shadows across snapping jaws and flashing steel.
But then I heard it—the padding of paws in the dark. Heavier. Closer.
"Not done," I muttered.
The next wave came. Six more.
We pulled tighter, backs almost touching, the fire at our center.
Borgu was a whirlwind, his axe hacking with brutal strength. Every swing split bone, but the wolves were fast, darting in to snap at his legs, his arms. His skin was scored with shallow cuts, blood streaking down his arms, but he only laughed, eyes wild.
Lorian fought like a cornered rabbit, but there was steel there too. His thrusts grew sharper, faster, every kill giving him just enough courage to face the next. He grunted through clenched teeth, sweat soaking his hair.
Sylvara was cold precision, her arrows a steady rhythm. She moved with purpose, never panicked, her voice sharp as she called warnings. "Left! Behind you! Strike low, Kael!"
And me—I was the wall. Every step measured, every cut designed to hold the line. Old training rose from my bones like it had never left. Shield where there was none, sword where it must be. My body ached, my breath ragged, but I didn't yield.
Still, the wolves pressed. Their eyes gleamed in the dark, always watching, always testing. Not mindless beasts. Hunters.
One darted low, snapping at the firewood. Flames spilled as it dragged a log away, scattering sparks.
"Keep the fire up!" I shouted, cutting it down, but already the circle of light was shrinking. Shadows closed tighter.
The largest wolf appeared then.
It stepped into the glow, towering over the rest, fur mangled, jaw split wide to reveal teeth blackened and jagged. Its ribs jutted through its flesh, glowing faintly red, like embers stoked from within. It growled, a sound that rattled the bones in my chest.
Sylvara's breath caught. "Corruption's alpha."
The beast snarled and charged.
Borgu met it head-on, axe swinging. The alpha slammed into him with enough force to lift the orc off his feet and hurl him back into the stockade posts. Wood cracked, Borgu coughing hard as he struggled up.
"Borgu!" Lorian shouted.
The alpha turned toward the boy, eyes burning.
I moved. Faster than thought, faster than breath. My sword caught its jaws mid-snap, forcing its head sideways. Its teeth scraped sparks against the steel, hot saliva burning my wrist where it splattered. I shoved, muscles straining, every vein screaming.
"Now!" I roared.
Lorian lunged, his spear plunging into the beast's side. Sylvara's arrow followed an instant later, sinking into its glowing ribs.
The alpha howled, staggering. But it didn't fall. Its tail whipped, catching Lorian across the chest and sending him sprawling, breath knocked out.
Borgu surged back, fury in his eyes, blood on his lips. "YOU. DIE!"
His axe came down in a brutal arc, biting deep into the alpha's skull. Bone shattered, black ichor bursting outward. The beast convulsed once, twice, then collapsed with a thunderous crash.
The remaining wolves faltered. For a heartbeat, their ember-glow eyes dimmed. Then, with eerie silence, they melted back into the forest, vanishing as if swallowed by shadow.
For a long moment, only the crackle of fire and the rasp of our breathing filled the air.
Borgu wrenched his axe free with a grunt, staggering. His chest heaved, but he still managed a laugh, wild and hoarse. "Ha! Strong, but not strong enough!"
Sylvara lowered her bow, sweat streaking her face, her lips pressed tight. She glanced at me, then at the corpse of the alpha. "This wasn't random. They tested us. Watched us. That was no ordinary hunt."
Lorian sat up slowly, clutching his chest where the tail had struck. His voice shook, but his eyes burned. "Then what do we do? If more come—if bigger ones—"
I sheathed my sword with hands still trembling, blood and ichor dripping from the blade. "Then we hold. We build stronger. And when they come again…"
I looked at the alpha's corpse, the faint glow still pulsing in its ribs like dying coals.
"…we'll be ready."
The fire hissed, casting our shadows long against the stockade. The forest beyond was silent again. Too silent.
But we had survived.
For now.