They struck like wolves possessed.
Five hundred warriors poured from the darkness, howling their fury, their grief, their desperate hope. The camp's guards barely had time to react before the first wave crashed over them—Stonecrest wolves who'd waited years for this moment, their rage honed to a razor's edge.
Kael led the charge, his black wolf form a blur of death among the guards. Cedric followed close behind, fighting with the strength of a wolf who'd finally found something worth protecting. Around them, the army surged forward, overwhelming the camp's defenses through sheer numbers and desperate need.
But Elara wasn't with them.
She had another mission.
---
Kress guided her through the chaos.
His knowledge of the camp was absolute—every path, every hiding place, every ward. They moved like shadows through the fighting, avoiding clashes, slipping past guards who never saw them.
"The main ward is there." Kress pointed at a stone structure at the camp's center. "It powers all the cages. Break that, and every lock fails at once."
Elara studied the structure. It pulsed with dark energy—the master's magic, corrupted and wrong. Through her awakened senses, she could feel it breathing. Alive. Hungry.
"The master's blood," she breathed. "He powered this with his own blood."
Kress nodded grimly. "Can you break it?"
"I have to try."
---
The ward structure was worse up close.
Darkness seeped from its stones like oil, staining the ground around it. The air was thick with wrongness—the same wrongness Elara had felt facing the master himself. This was his work. His essence. Left here to torment prisoners long after his death.
You're dead, she thought at the darkness. I killed you. This is just your rot.
She pressed her hands to the stones.
The darkness screamed.
It lashed out at her—tendrils of shadow reaching for her throat, her heart, her soul. Elara gasped as they wrapped around her, squeezing, crushing—
"ELARA!"
Kress's voice, distant. Kael's presence through the bond, suddenly screaming with fear—
I'm here, she thought toward him. I'm fighting. Trust me.
The bond pulsed—terrified, desperate, but trusting.
She turned back to the darkness.
---
You're not him, she thought at the shadows. You're just a memory. A remnant. And memories can be erased.
Silver light exploded from her.
Not gentle this time—fierce. The power of the Silver Crown, of her mother's line, of every wolf who'd died protecting her. It flooded through her, through the stones, through the darkness that had held these prisoners for so long.
The shadows shrieked.
And dissolved.
Elara fell to her knees as the ward structure crumbled, as the cages across the camp sprang open, as two hundred prisoners suddenly realized they were free.
Kress caught her before she hit the ground.
"You did it." His empty eyes were full of wonder. "You actually did it."
"Did I?" She gasped for breath. "The prisoners—"
"Free. All of them." He looked toward the cages. "Look."
She followed his gaze.
Wolves were emerging from the cages—hesitant at first, then faster as they realized the wards were truly gone. Families reunited. Friends embraced. Strangers helped strangers, their shared suffering creating bonds that would last forever.
And among them, running toward the battle's edge—
Onyx's mate. Onyx's son.
---
Onyx saw them mid-fight.
One moment he was locked in combat with a guard—the next, he froze, his eyes fixed on the two figures stumbling through the chaos. The guard lunged—and Cedric was there, cutting him down, giving Onyx the moment he needed.
He ran.
Elara watched from her knees as the massive Alpha crossed the battlefield, as he reached his mate and son, as he crushed them against him and broke. Sobs tore from his throat—great, heaving sounds that carried across the sudden silence.
The fighting stopped.
Guards surrendered or fled. Prisoners gathered, watching their Alpha weep. And Onyx, who'd been hard and cold for so long, simply held his family and felt.
Elara's eyes burned.
Kael appeared beside her, pulling her gently to her feet. "You did that." His voice was rough. "You gave him back everything."
"We did that." She leaned into him. "All of us."
---
The camp transformed as dawn approached.
Prisoners were fed, clothed, given weapons if they could fight. The wounded were tended. The dead—both sides—were gathered for whatever rites their packs observed.
Onyx found Elara at the camp's edge, watching the sun rise over the wastelands.
His eyes were red. His face was wet. But beneath the grief and relief, something else shone.
Hope.
"I don't have words." His voice was raw. "For what you did. For what you gave back to me." He knelt before her, his massive frame somehow smaller in this moment. "I am yours. Stonecrest is yours. For as long as we draw breath."
Elara helped him rise. "You don't owe me your life, Onyx. You owe me your partnership. Your friendship. Your belief that we can build something better."
He stared at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Partnership," he agreed. "Friendship. And when the time comes for the third camp—" His eyes hardened. "I'll be there. With every wolf I have."
"Good." Elara nodded. "Because we're going to need them."
---
The march back to Stonecrest took two days.
Two hundred freed prisoners, many too weak to travel quickly. Families reunited, children carried, elders supported. It was slow. It was painful. It was beautiful.
Kael stayed close to Elara throughout, sensing her exhaustion. Breaking the ward had cost her—more than she wanted to admit. Through the bond, he felt the drain on her power, the lingering weakness in her limbs.
Rest, he thought. I'll watch.
Can't. Too much to do.
You can't help anyone if you collapse.
She wanted to argue. Didn't have the energy.
So she leaned against him as they walked, let him take some of her weight, let herself rest.
Just for a moment.
---
On the second night, camped in the wastelands' shadow, Elara dreamed again.
Not of cages this time. Not of prisoners waiting.
Of a structure larger than anything she'd seen. Darker. Wronger. Built into the heart of a mountain, pulsing with corrupted light that made her soul recoil.
The third camp, she realized. The biggest one. The heart of the darkness.
A figure emerged from its depths.
Not the master—something else. Something that had been waiting, growing, feeding on the prisoners held there.
You think you've won, it whispered. You think freeing these few matters. But I've been building something here. Something you can't stop.
Elara's blood froze.
What are you?
I'm what the master was becoming. What he would have been if you'd let him live. The figure stepped closer. I'm the next evolution of darkness. And when you come for me—
When, not if?
A laugh like breaking bones.
Oh, you'll come. You can't help yourself. It's what heroes do. The figure's eyes glowed—red, hungry, ancient. And when you do, I'll be waiting.
Elara woke gasping.
Kael was there instantly, holding her, murmuring reassurance.
But she couldn't shake the dream. Couldn't forget those eyes. Couldn't escape the certainty that something worse than the master was waiting in the third camp.
What are we walking into? she wondered.
The darkness didn't answer.
But she felt it watching.
Always watching.
---
End of Chapter 34🐺