Chapter 26: The Wounds That Remain

Alex woke to silence.

Not the peaceful silence of dawn, but the heavy, tolling stillness that follows a reckoning. His limbs felt leaden, his lungs tight with the aftermath of power unleashed beyond measure. The rising sun filtered through fractured glass in the clinic's shattered skylight, casting fractured beams of light across the recovery room floor. Everywhere he looked, reminders of last night's battle lay in broken shards and scorched pillows.

Eira lay beside him on a bunk, bandaged but breathing steadily. Despite everything, her silver hair glowed in the morning light like moonbeams caught in motion. Alex glanced at her, a sudden ache in his chest. Last night, their combined strength had sealed a gateway between worlds—but the cost had been more than they understood.

He sat up slowly, muscles protesting. Every fiber of his werewolf body hummed with residual energy, a reminder that he had channeled the Hollow itself through his veins. The new crimson runes that traced his arms pulsed faintly, a heartbeat in ink, telling him that the Hollow's power was alive within him now.

Eira stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She offered him a tired smile. "Welcome back," she whispered.

Alex exhaled, reaching for her hand. "Are you all right?"

She squeezed his fingers. "Better than fine. You saved us all."

A surge of emotion tightened his throat. "We did it together."

Outside the clinic's battered front doors, the pack stirred. Scott McCall and Malia Tate stood guard by the fallen barricade, their expressions grave. Stiles Stilinski trailed behind Kira Yukimura, who scanned the skies, sword at the ready. Lydia Martin conferred quietly with Deaton in the corner, pages of old texts strewn between them.

Alex swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and stood, the world tilting for a heartbeat before righting itself. He flexed his fingers, feeling the power thrumming beneath his skin. "I need water," he said hoarsely.

Eira hopped down and wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him toward the sink. He drank deeply, letting cool clarity chase away the last of the battle's fog.

"Don't push yourself," Eira cautioned.

He shook his head. "There's too much left to do."

Outside, the pack assembled in the ruined courtyard. The field beyond was littered with scorched earth and twisted metal where the last of the shadow beasts had fallen. Silva's ashes scattered across the grass, carried by a gentle breeze as if the Hollow itself was sighing in relief.

Scott approached Alex, his golden eyes still wild with adrenaline. "How are you feeling?"

Alex squared his shoulders. "Stronger than ever… but it's like my bones are still burning." He glanced at Eira and back at Scott. "We reopened the pact—rebuilt a bond that's stronger than any magic I've ever felt. But these runes…" He lifted his sleeve to reveal the intricate crimson sigils. "They're a reminder that the Hollow lives in me now."

Scott nodded gravely. "We knew you'd change. We just didn't know how much."

Malia stepped forward, her tone gentle. "You saved us. We wouldn't be here if you hadn't."

Before Alex could speak, Lydia strode into the circle, pages in hand. "I found something," she announced. "The totems we sealed each contained a shard of the original pact—a prism of light that reflected our bloodlines and our unity. Now that the final totem has been reforged, the three prisms have merged into a new artifact."

Deaton held up a glass case. Inside rested a crystalline shard that hummed with power. It was shaped like an eye—blue fire dancing within its core. "This is the Heart of the Hollow," he explained. "A living record of the covenant you've forged. As long as it remains whole, the curse cannot rise again."

Alex studied the artifact, its glow echoing the crimson runes on his arms and the silvery glow in Eira's eyes. "So this—this is what we fight for."

Eira touched the Heart. "And what we protect together."

The morning calm shattered with the distant echo of sirens. Sheriff Stilinski's voice carried through the broken windows. "We've got reports of shadow sightings near Silverpine Ranch. People are… disappearing."

Scott exchanged a look with Alex. "They must be testing the new barrier."

Alex's jaw clenched. "Then we've got to seal it again."

Eira slid her hand into his. "And this time, we'll do it without tearing open the Hollow."

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By midday, the pack had regrouped at Silverpine Ranch—a sprawling equestrian estate now scarred by unnatural frost where beasts had walked. Cattle trembled in their pens, kicked holes in corrals to escape. Families huddled inside their homes, eyes wide with terror as darkness threatened to descend again.

Alex led the assault, eyes roaring with shifter flame. Scott, Malia, and Kira flanked him as Eira and Lydia worked to erect a ring of arcane runes around the ranchyard. Stiles and Deaton assisted, setting warding stones to reinforce the barrier.

The first wave of shadow apparitions slithered out of the nearby treeline—wraithlike shapes that shimmered with black light. They hissed and lunged, claws raking the earth.

Scott answered with a deafening roar, fangs bared. He tore through the first two shades, raking them apart in bone-shattering strikes. Malia's agile fury sent the next two stumbling back as she whirled, her claws flashing like razors. Kira's blades sang as she danced between them, each strike severing a tendril of shadow.

Alex leapt atop one apparition, sinking his claws into its throat. The darkness hissed and scattered in a puff of ashen dust, but Alex felt a jolt of Hollow power recoil—in a terrible echo of the tether he'd severed with Kaelen.

He staggered but pressed on, racing toward Eira. She stood in the center of the runic circle, arms raised, weaving frost and magic to fortify the barrier. Every time a shade struck the circle, arcs of silver energy repelled it.

"Alex!" she shouted. "We need your power, too! Channel the Hollow through the runes!"

He raised his arms, letting the crimson runes glow. With a roar that shook the sky, he unleashed a beam of bloodfire through the circle. The rune lines flared white and gold, sending a shockwave that purged the ring's perimeter of every shadow shade.

The remaining shades recoiled, hissing in fury, then dissolved into nothingness.

Silence fell again—this time, tempered with relief. Neighbors emerged from their homes, faces pale but hopeful. Sheriff Stilinski stepped forward, nodding. "Well done."

Alex exhaled, exhaustion hitting him in waves. Eira slipped an arm around his waist, leaning against him. "You did it," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against her. "We did it."

Scott approached, clapping Alex on the shoulder. "Pack's safe—for now."

Malia grinned. "Nice light show."

Lydia handed Alex the Heart of the Hollow. "It's secure."

Alex accepted it, fingers brushing against the crystal's cool surface. In that moment, he realized that the true battle wasn't just against shadow beasts or ancient pacts—it was against fear itself. Fear of what they were becoming, fear of loss, fear of letting one another down.

But standing there—surrounded by his pack, his anchor, his love—he felt something else: purpose.

He turned to Eira, pulling her into a gentle embrace. The sun glinted off her silver hair, lighting their silhouettes against the ranch's recovering fields. "Promise me," he murmured into her hair, "that no matter what comes next, we face it together."

She lifted her head and smiled, eyes bright with hope. "Always."

And for the first time since his rebirth, Alex Mercer truly believed it. The wounds of the past might remain, but together they would heal—and the Hollow's heart would beat on, a beacon of unity, power, and love.

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Up next: Chapter 27 – Echoes at Dawn