Chapter Twelve: Ash Before the Dawn

They moved immediately, drifting in the woods.

The woods were changing.

Even the wolves could feel it. A tension humming low in the roots, a pressure that made the fur along their backs stand stiff. The moon, once full and radiant, had begun its slow descent behind the jagged hills of the East. It left the forest in a liminal hush, the sky bruised with the early stain of morning.

Ethan moved ahead of the pack, cloaked in silence. Though his body remained in its human form, his senses were raw with heightened instinct. His mind drifted between two selves,the cold discipline of the vampire and the rage-born intuition of the wolf.

Behind him, Rufik stalked with the others, a dozen wolves of various size and pelt. The wounds from their last encounter had healed — especially the silver-struck beta, whose flank still steamed faintly from the remnants of corrupted metal. He was slower now but stubbornly refused to stay behind.

Ethan's gaze cut through the mist curling between trees.

"We're close to the river fork," Rufik said beside him, voice low, gravel-laced. "Narnish is two days' run from there."

"Two days if the road holds," Ethan murmured. "But it won't."

"You still believe they're gathering?"

Ethan nodded. "The vampires aren't hunting anymore. They're watching. Testing routes. Patrolling. That means one thing,a preparation."

Rufik's golden eyes narrowed. "For war?"

"No," Ethan said, jaw tightening. "For resurrection."

A low growl shivered through the trees,not from the pack. Not from any wolf.

Ethan froze, holding up a hand.

The pack halted. Ears turned. Hackles rose.

Then came the smell — faint at first, like the hint of rot beneath the wet bark. But it grew stronger with every breath. Not decay. Not death.

Ash.

"Spread out," Ethan ordered. "Stay alert."

They moved in disciplined silence through the thinning woods. The trees here were blackened, many charred at the base as if kissed by fire. The ground bore no grass. Just scorched dirt and broken stone. Birds did not sing. Even the insects had vanished.

And then they saw it.

A clearing up ahead. Not natural, but carved by force. Trees ripped in half. Rocks split like dry bones. In the center lay the remains of what had once been a farmstead — now burned to rubble, stained with dark patches of blood. A scorched handprint clung to a stone wall.

"No survivors," Rufik muttered, sniffing the air. "And no bodies."

Ethan knelt beside the blood. It was old — two nights at most. He dipped two fingers into the stain, raised it to his nose.

The blood was human.

But not only.

He turned his head slowly.

"I smell vampire," he said.

And then a hiss broke the silence.

Shapes leapt from the treeline — five in total, blurred by speed. The vampires wore black, their eyes rimmed in crimson, faces twisted in a permanent sneer of hunger. They weren't nobles. Not the old blood. These were soldiers,scouts.

But they were fast.

The pack reacted instantly. Fur exploded from skin as bodies twisted into full wolf form. Rufik led the charge with a savage bark, his white fur streaking across the clearing like a ghost.

The first vampire met him mid-air — and was immediately torn in half.

But two others darted toward the beta — the same who had been wounded. He was slower, still limping from the silver wound. One of the vampires moved with surgical intent, drawing a narrow blade — silver-tipped.

Ethan saw the glint a heartbeat before it struck.

"NO!"

But he was too far.

The blade sank into the beta's ribs. The wolf howled, crumpling to the ground, steam rising violently from the wound. The vampire stepped back to admire the damage — but only for a moment.

Ethan blurred forward.

Not as a wolf. Not human.

Half-turned.

His eyes glowed with fire. His claws lengthened, mouth widening into a snarl. His skin shimmered with both moonlight and shadow, as if caught between states. He reached the vampire in a breath,and with a single slash, drove his hand through the creature's chest.

A spray of dark blood followed.

Ethan ripped the heart free and tossed it aside like trash.

The other vampire turned to flee, but Rufik's pack descended, snarling and ripping in a frenzy. Within seconds, the threat was gone — reduced to scattered limbs and ash.

Ethan stood over the beta, whose breathing was ragged. Steam still curled from the wound, but the healing had begun.

"You'll live," Ethan said. "Rest until the dawn."

Rufik limped to his side. "That was fast."

"They weren't meant to kill," Ethan said. "They were watching."

"Watching what?"

Ethan turned toward the clearing's edge. "Us."

Rufik's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

But Ethan already knew.

"They're measuring how strong we are," he said. "How ready."

He faced the pack — blood still dripping from his claws, silver eyes blazing.

"They're not hiding anymore. The vampires are moving in lines, probing borders. This wasn't just a murder site, it was bait. They wanted to see who would come and how we'd fight."

Rufik lowered his head. "So what do we do?"

Ethan's voice was cold. "We go to Narnish. We find Helena. If anyone remembers how the old alliances were made — and how they were broken — it's her."

He looked out toward the north, where the faintest light began to spill over the horizon.

"And the rest?"

Ethan clenched his fists.

"They find every wolf who still breathes. Every claw that can tear. Every old blood willing to rise again."

Then he added, low and fierce:

"Because Dracula is waking. And he'll come not just for power… but for vengeance."