The sky was moonless, the darkness pressing thick against the towering pines. The Enigma territory stood firm, its warriors stationed at every post, guarding their Alpha's home, his people.
But beneath that strength, a festering wound had begun to rot.
Kael moved through the shadows, his steps careful, deliberate. His heart pounded in his chest, but not from fear. No, this was something else. Anticipation.
Beneath his coat, the mark burned—a sigil etched into his skin by Zereth's own hands. A mark of allegiance. A sign of his betrayal.
He had made his choice.
The gate guards barely spared him a glance. Why would they? He was one of them. A warrior. A brother. They trusted him.
Fools.
Kael stepped past them, fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. The moment his boots hit the ground inside, he gave the signal.
The night exploded.