Chapter 28

The wolf clan stronghold loomed like a sentinel carved from the mountain's bones, its weathered stone walls etched with sigils of claw and fang, glowing faintly under the starlight. Ethan stepped through the arched entrance, his boots echoing on the worn flagstones, the air shifting from the forest's crisp bite to a dry, earthy warmth laced with the scent of old wood and fur. Behind him, the children shuffled in, their small gasps of awe mingling with the soft rustle of their ragged clothes. Rhea followed, her silver-gray eyes scanning the cavernous hall, rifle slung over her shoulder but her posture alert. Mara led the way with a steady stride, Kael and Lira flanking her, their wary glances darting between Ethan and the shadows.

The hall stretched wide, its ceiling vaulted with beams of dark timber, remnants of torches flickering in iron sconces along the walls. Crude benches lined the edges, scattered with furs and makeshift bedding—signs of a small, resilient community clinging to survival. A massive hearth dominated the far end, its firepit cold but piled with fresh logs, ready to blaze. Ethan's wolf senses stirred, picking up faint traces of others—sweat, leather, and the musky undertone of pack life.

Mara gestured toward the benches. "Sit," she said, her voice rough but not unkind. "You've brought trouble to our doorstep, Chosen Alpha or not. We need to know what we're dealing with."

Ethan guided the children to the nearest bench, Sarah settling beside him, her small hand gripping his sleeve as the others huddled close. He met Mara's gaze, amber eyes steady. "Fair enough. I'm Ethan Mason—ex-soldier, now something more. The military's hunting me for what they turned me into, and the blood clan wants my blood. Eldrin sent us here to build a fight against them."

Kael snorted, crossing his scarred arms. "Eldrin's an old dreamer. You think you can take on both with a handful of kids and a gun?"

Rhea's eyes narrowed, her tone cutting like a blade. "He's already taken down their drones and blood hunters. Underestimate him if you want—just don't expect us to wait around while you figure it out."

Lira, the young girl, shifted her weight, her dagger glinting as she clutched it tighter. "He's got the medallion," she said, her voice soft but firm. "The prophecy's real—I've heard the elders whisper about it."

Mara silenced her with a look, then turned back to Ethan. "Lira's right—it's no coincidence you're here. But we're not some army waiting for a savior. We've got ten wolves, half-starved and stretched thin, keeping the blood clan scouts at bay. You're asking us to risk what little we've got."

"I'm not asking you to follow me blind," Ethan said, his voice low but resonant. "I'm asking you to fight with me—for them." He nodded toward the children, their wide eyes reflecting the firelight Mara had just lit in the hearth. "I've seen what the military does to kids like these, what the blood clan wants from them. I won't let it happen again."

Sarah squeezed his hand, her small voice breaking the tension. "He saved us," she said, looking at Mara. "He's strong."

Mara's expression softened, though her skepticism lingered. "Strength's one thing—strategy's another. What's your plan?"

Ethan pulled the scroll from his jacket, spreading it across a nearby table. The firelight danced over its lunar script, illuminating wolves and vampires circling a figure with a medallion—him. "Eldrin says this stronghold's a start. There are others out there—wolves roused by my awakening. We find them, train them, turn this place into a base to hit back."

Kael leaned in, his scarred face creasing as he studied the scroll. "The Accord," he muttered. "My gran used to talk about it—a truce that went sour. You think you can bring it back?"

"I don't know," Ethan admitted, his fingers brushing the medallion. "But Eldrin says my blood's tied to it—wolf and vampire mixed. If it's true, it's a weapon they don't expect. I'll use it to protect us, not play their game."

Rhea's silver eyes gleamed with quiet approval. "He's not just a fighter," she added. "He's kept us alive through hell. That's more than luck."

Mara exhaled, her posture easing. "Alright, Mason. You've got guts—I'll give you that. We'll shelter you tonight, figure the rest at dawn. But if the blood clan hits us because of you—"

"They won't get through," Ethan cut in, his voice steel. "Not while I'm standing."

A sudden crash shattered the moment—stone grinding against stone, followed by a chilling snarl from the stronghold's entrance. Ethan's senses flared, the wolf surging as he leapt to his feet, claws snapping out. "They're here," he growled.

Mara shifted instantly, her form rippling into a gray wolf, Kael and Lira following suit—russet and brown fur bristling. Rhea raised her rifle, her stance steady beside Ethan. "Blood hunters?" she asked, voice taut.

"Worse," Ethan said, catching the scent—decay, iron, and a twisted wolf musk. "Hybrids."

Three figures burst through the entrance, grotesque blends of wolf and vampire, their fur patchy with crimson streaks, eyes glowing red with malice. Claws gleamed, venom dripping, and their snarls echoed like shattered glass. Ethan roared, surging into battle form, his dark fur bristling as he met the first head-on.

Its claws slashed, aiming for his chest, but Ethan ducked, ramming his shoulder into its gut. The beast crashed into a bench, wood splintering, but sprang back, fangs snapping. He caught its throat mid-lunge, claws sinking deep—blood sprayed, hot and foul, as he hurled it aside. Rhea fired, rune bullets streaking through the dark, punching through the second hybrid's skull with a burst of sparks. It crumpled, twitching.

Kael leapt at the third, his russet wolf form tearing into its flank, but the hybrid's venomous claws raked his side, drawing a yelp. Lira darted in, her dagger flashing, slicing its tendon—Ethan finished it with a claw through its chest, ichor pooling as it collapsed.

Panting, Ethan reverted, blood dripping from his claws. Mara shifted back, her gray eyes wide. "You weren't kidding," she said, a grudging respect in her tone.

Kael clutched his side, grimacing but steady. "They're bold—never hit us head-on like this."

"Ethan's blood," Rhea said, lowering her rifle. "It's drawing them."

Ethan wiped his hands, the medallion pulsing hot. "Then we use it—turn this place into a trap for them."

Mara nodded, decisive. "You've got a deal, Mason. We're in—for now."

Sarah tugged his sleeve, her voice small but fierce. "You'll keep us safe, right?"

He crouched, meeting her gaze. "Always," he promised, the weight of her trust settling deep.

Rhea stepped beside him, her silver eyes steady. "We've got allies now," she said. "What's the next move?"

Ethan rose, the scroll's prophecy echoing in his mind—union or chaos. "We fortify this place," he said. "Train, gather more wolves. Richards and the blood clan won't know what hit them."

The fire crackled, casting light over their makeshift pack—Mara's wolves, Rhea, the children. Outside, the forest whispered with danger, but within these walls, Ethan felt something kindle—a spark of defiance, a force rising.

[To be continued…]