Chapter 23

The staircase spiraled downward, its stone steps slick and worn from centuries of passage. Ethan descended cautiously, his wolf senses razor-sharp, catching every detail—the faint drip of water echoing in the gloom, the musty scent of ancient stone, the distant hum of drones buzzing behind the sealed door he'd left above. The medallion pulsed against his chest, its warmth a steady anchor as the rune-light faded, swallowed by thick darkness.

The drones wouldn't breach yet, but the military wouldn't relent. Richards, their dogged commander, would carve a path through stone if he had to, and time was running out. Sarah, the children, Rhea—they needed him. Ethan had to reach them before it all fell apart.

The stairs opened into a vast underground hall, stark and practical compared to the sanctuary's shimmering beauty. Shelves towered along the walls, packed with dusty scrolls and relics. A massive stone table dominated the center, etched with faded maps and cryptic symbols. Ethan's gaze locked on a familiar mark—a crescent moon ringed by wolves and bats, like the mural he'd seen before. He brushed his fingers over it, and the medallion flared, sending a jolt up his arm.

A deep voice rumbled through the chamber. "You've come far, child of the Accord."

Ethan spun, claws snapping out, but the hall was empty. His pulse raced, the wolf snarling within. "Who's there?" he growled, voice steady despite the tension knotting his gut.

A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, spectral warrior in ancient armor, amber eyes glowing like Ethan's own in wolf form. "I am the Keeper," it intoned, its voice reverberating off the stone. "Guardian of the old ways, protector of the bloodlines."

Ethan squared his shoulders, wary but unshaken. "What do you want?"

"To test you," the Keeper replied, its stare piercing. "You carry the blood of alphas, but blood alone proves nothing. Show your worth."

A test. Ethan's mind flashed to the stone guardian—this felt heavier, more personal. "What kind of test?" he pressed.

"The test of choice," the Keeper said. "Power without purpose breeds chaos. Wield it with wisdom."

The hall dissolved in a shimmer before Ethan could answer. He stood in a moonlit clearing, the air sharp with pine and damp earth, a full moon casting silver across towering trees. Shadows clawed the ground, and a low growl rolled from the dark. A massive black wolf stepped out, its midnight fur bristling, amber eyes blazing with primal fury—Ethan's eyes, mirrored back at him. This wasn't a vision; it was visceral, alive. It was him, his untamed wolf unleashed.

"Face yourself," the Keeper's voice echoed. "Control the wolf, or be consumed."

The black wolf charged, a freight train of muscle and rage, claws gouging the earth as it leapt. Ethan shifted in a heartbeat, fur erupting, claws extending, senses igniting. They collided mid-air with a bone-jarring crash, a thunderclap that shook the trees. Claws slashed, teeth snapped, and they hit the ground hard, rolling in a tangle of snarls—pine needles and dirt flying, the air thick with the coppery tang of blood.

Ethan swiped at the wolf's flank, claws slicing through fur to rake flesh, drawing a wet spatter of crimson. The beast twisted, jaws gaping, and sank its fangs into his shoulder. Pain exploded, a white-hot blaze as teeth tore muscle, blood soaking his fur. He roared, wrenching free with a spray that painted the grass, and slammed his elbow into the wolf's jaw, cracking bone with a sickening crunch. The wolf staggered, but lunged back, claws slashing Ethan's chest, tearing three deep gashes that burned like fire.

He stumbled, blood dripping to the earth, but charged again, tackling the wolf into a tree. Bark splintered, showering them as the trunk groaned under the impact. The wolf's hind claws raked his thigh, shredding fur and skin, a jolt of agony that nearly buckled his legs. Ethan roared, grabbing its neck with both hands, slamming it to the ground. Dust erupted, choking the air, but the wolf twisted free, its teeth snapping an inch from his throat.

They grappled, rolling across the clearing, a brutal dance of claw and fang. Ethan's claws dug into the wolf's side, ripping through muscle—blood sprayed, hot and slick—but the beast countered, its jaws clamping his forearm. Bone crunched beneath the bite, a scream tearing from Ethan's throat as he kicked its ribs, feeling them crack under his heel. The wolf yelped, releasing him, and he staggered back, arm hanging limp, blood pooling at his feet.

Panting, vision blurring, Ethan faced the wolf as it circled, snarling, eyes wild. His body screamed—wounds throbbing, breath ragged—but he saw it now: every strike he landed, it matched; every move, it mirrored. This wasn't about winning with force. It was him—his rage, his fear. He clutched the medallion, its warmth cutting through the haze. Sarah's eyes, the kids' hope, Rhea's strength—they flashed in his mind.

He straightened, claws dropping, chest heaving. The wolf lunged, but Ethan stood firm, amber eyes locking with its own. "I'm not your enemy," he rasped, voice raw but certain. "We're one."

The wolf froze mid-stride, ears twitching, its fury faltering. Ethan extended a bloodied hand, palm up. It growled low, then stepped closer, snout brushing his fingers. With a huff, it dissolved into dark mist, merging into his core—pain fading, power settling, wild yet his.

The clearing vanished, and Ethan knelt in the hall, the stone table before him. The Keeper nodded. "You've passed the first test. Greater trials await."

Ethan rose, battered but resolute. "What now?"

The Keeper gestured to a frayed scroll on the table, its script sharp. "Your bloodline's truth lies here. But beware—knowledge is gift and curse."

A gunshot cracked, boots stomping—military breach above. Ethan snarled, snagging the scroll and shoving it into his jacket. "No time. I need the others."

The Keeper faded, whispering, "Follow the river's path—it leads to them. The choice is yours."

Ethan ignored the pursuit's clamor, homing in on water's rush from a side passage. The scroll burned against his chest, but survival came first. He'd find Rhea and the kids—together, they'd face the storm.

[To be continued…]