Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Abyss of Broken Bonds

The deeper chamber yawned beneath the crypt, its walls pulsing with a deep crimson glow that seemed to bleed from the very stone, a testament to Strahen's unyielding will. The air hung heavy with the sharp tang of rust, mingled with the sour decay of forgotten bones, pressing against the group as they descended. Ethan led the way, the Severed Fang pulsing against his back, its silver light and green diamond at the pommel carving through the suffocating dark. The chamber's floor, a jagged expanse of cracked stone veined with ancient runes, sloped toward a gaping pit where shadows twisted like living tendrils, their whispers rising into a relentless chant of sacrifice, betrayer. The severing star's faint light struggled to penetrate the gloom, its rays swallowed by the oppressive darkness, while a deafening howl reverberated through the chamber, the general's presence a palpable threat drawing nearer with every echo. Helena staggered beside Ethan, her chest and arm wrapped in blood-stiffened cloth, her satchel clutched tightly against her side, its sigils flickering with the last of her fading strength. Rufik, the pack's alpha, bore deep cuts across his side and arm, his axe gleaming with the scars of relentless battles, his eyes burning with a fierce resolve that commanded the group. The Nightbound followed, their spears glinting faintly in the dim light, Kael's arm and leg bandaged, his ember-red eyes wild with panic, sweat streaking his dirt-streaked face as he muttered under his breath. The Nightbound leader, blue eyes cold and unyielding, scanned the encroaching shadows, while Voren, their sapphire eyes steady and unreadable, trailed behind, their cloak brushing against a rune-carved wall, the faint pulse of a tampered mark going unnoticed by the weary group.

Ethan's silvered gaze pierced the thickening gloom, his wolf blood snarling with primal instinct, his vampire blood surging with a hunger that gnawed at his soul, threatening to overwhelm his control. The Blade of Command thrummed in his grip, its green diamond at the pommel pulsing with an otherworldly light, urging him toward the Rite's final stage with an insistent pull that resonated deep within his bones. Yet Velhara's warning from the upper crypt lingered, her voice a haunting echo: "The traitor's shadow grows." The memory of his mother, torn from his mind in the second stage, left a void that ached with every breath, his humanity teetering on the edge of oblivion. The general's howl grew louder, a guttural promise of Strahen's wrath that shook the chamber's walls, its vibrations rattling the runes underfoot. Helena's voice, weak and trembling with pain, broke the oppressive silence. "This is the Rite's end. The general's will guards it. We need a plan to face this nightmare." Rufik growled, his voice rough as grinding stone, his breath labored from his wounds. "Our plans keep turning against us. Kael's obsession with this traitor is a liability we can't afford." His piercing gaze fixed on Kael, whose spear shook violently in his grasp, his face etched with a mix of fear, anger and determination.

Ethan, gripping Veydranos tightly, its green diamond at the pommel casting faint emerald reflections on the stone, turned to Rufik, honoring his alpha role with a deferential nod. "I say we hold the pit's edge, Helena's sigils shielding us from the front, the pack and Nightbound encircling to flank, me striking with the Blade of Command when it shows itself. How do you see it, alpha?" Rufik studied the chamber, his jaw tightening, then nodded with a grunt. "It'll do for now, but watch Kael. His nerves are a crack in our line." Kael snapped back, his voice strained and high-pitched, cutting through the tension. "I'm hunting the traitor, Rufik, not causing our fall! Someone's feeding Strahen our every step!" The Nightbound leader's silence, a cold wall of disapproval, only fueled the growing rift, while Voren stepped forward, their voice calm and measured, suggesting they reinforce the left flank with a specific rune pattern. Yet as they spoke, a rune on the wall pulsed faintly, tampered with a subtle shift, going unnoticed in the chaos. Suddenly, a manifestation of Strahen's general loomed from the pit, a towering figure clad in blackened armor that seemed to absorb the light, its crimson eyes blazing with malevolent intent, wielding a blade wreathed in writhing shadows that hissed with power. It anticipated their formation with eerie precision, shattering Helena's fragile sigils with a single sweep of its weapon and slashing a pack member's shoulder, blood spraying across the stone in a crimson arc. Kael froze, his spear slipping from his grasp to clatter against the floor, and the general lunged, its blade nicking Rufik's leg as it nearly crushed him against a pillar. Ethan roared, his strike with the Blade of Command flaring silver, its green diamond blazing like a beacon, forcing the general back into the shadows, but it retreated with a mocking laugh: "Your doom is near." The group faltered, the pack member's shoulder bleeding heavily, their growls turning to whimpers, their unity strained to the breaking point.

Rufik's anger flared, his axe slamming into the stone with a resounding crack. "It knew us again! Kael, your freeze nearly cost my life!" Kael's face whitened, his voice with breaking desperation. "I'm trying to find the traitor! It's one of us, I swear it!" His eyes darted wildly among the Nightbound, his hands trembling as he retrieved his spear, his panic a palpable force. The leader's voice cut through, cold as the chamber's depths. "Your panic betrays us more than any traitor, Kael." Helena, her strength fading with every labored breath, urged the group to focus, her gaze lingering on Kael's trembling form, then briefly shifting to Voren, who stood silently amidst the turmoil. The pack growled low, their wounded member limping heavily, and the whispers from the shadows rose, chanting betrayer with increasing urgency. Ethan proposed a new strategy, turning to Rufik with resolve. "We draw it to the pit's center, Helena's sigils trapping it in a tighter ring, Nightbound flanking from the sides, me ambushing with Veydranos when it commits. Your call, alpha." Rufik approved with a curt nod, his glare fixed on Kael. "Prove yourself this time, or you're out." Kael, sweating profusely, nodded jerkily, muttering under his breath about the traitor's shadow lurking among them. Voren offered a specific angle for the Nightbound's approach, their tone steady, but another tampered rune on the pit's edge pulsed faintly, its alteration unnoticed in the heat of preparation. The general returned, its armor glinting with an oily sheen, predicting the trap with devastating accuracy. It shattered the sigils with a roar, wounding a Nightbound's chest with a deep gash, blood soaking their cloak, and nearly impaling Helena, its blade grazing her side as she stumbled back. Helena's fading sigils flared one last time, holding the general just long enough, and Ethan's improvised strike, fueled by the ferocity of his wolf blood and the precision of his vampire heritage, forced the beast into a retreat. The victory was narrow, Helena collapsing to her knees, the Nightbound's chest bleeding freely, the group teetering on the edge of collapse.

The survivors retreated to a rune-carved altar at the chamber's heart, its glow intensifying with a pulsating rhythm that matched the beating of Ethan's heart. Helena, barely conscious, her breaths shallow and ragged, whispered that the general's will was the last guardian of the Rite's end, its power seeping into the very air. Rufik, gritting his teeth as he bandaged his leg, pressed Ethan with a low growl. "Kael's losing his mind. He's too scared, and I'm starting to think he's hiding something." Kael, kneeling beside the wounded Nightbound, shouted back, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'll find the traitor, Rufik! I see their shadow in every plan, every move! It's not me!" His frantic recall of the pit's rune patterns, recited with unsettling clarity, raised Ethan's suspicion further, a seed of doubt taking root. Voren remained silent, their presence a quiet shadow, adjusting their cloak with a subtle movement, a rune flickering faintly beneath the fabric, unnoticed by the exhausted pack. A pack member, clutching their shoulder with a grimace, growled about abandoning the Nightbound altogether, their words fracturing the fragile alliance further. Helena, her hands shaking as she pulled a tattered scroll fragment from her satchel, spoke with a voice barely above a whisper. "The Rite's final stage demands a bond, Ethan. Your pack's loyalty or your own life. Past wielders shattered under this choice." Rufik's rage erupted, his axe trembling in his grip as he glared at the scroll. "More secrets? We're bleeding out for this cursed Rite!" Ethan raised a hand, silencing the group, his silvered eyes catching Kael's wild, nervous glance toward the altar, though Voren's calm demeanor lingered at the edge of his awareness.

The general emerged fully from the pit, its blackened armor crackling with shadow, its crimson eyes fixed on Ethan with a hunger that mirrored his own. The air grew thick, the chamber trembling as the beast advanced. Ethan turned to Rufik, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Helena's sigils shield the altar, even if weak, the pack and Nightbound encircle it to hold the line, I strike with the Severed Fang when it closes. Your word, alpha." Rufik nodded, his gaze sharp on Kael. "Hold the line, all of you, or answer to me." Kael, trembling but resolute, agreed with a shaky nod, muttering, "The traitor's here, I'll find them before it's too late." Voren suggested a flanking maneuver for the Nightbound, their suggestion precise, but Ethan altered it on instinct, wary of another misstep. The general lunged, predicting the original plan, its blade slashing a pack member's back in a deep, bloody gash, the wound spilling crimson onto the stone. Yet it faltered against Ethan's change, his wolf's ferocity driving a surge of power, his vampire precision guiding the Blade of Command's light, its green diamond blazing like a star, to banish the general back into the pit. The narrow victory came at a steep price, Helena's side wound worsening as she gasped for air, Kael's arm bleeding anew from a glancing blow, Rufik's leg buckling under his weight as he struggled to stand. Kael, near collapse from exhaustion, anger and fear, vowed with a trembling voice to unmask the traitor, his eyes darting wildly across the group, searching for a sign.

Ethan approached the altar, its runes flaring with an intense light, and placed Veydranos upon it, initiating the Rite's final stage. The severing star's light flooded the chamber, pouring into the Blade of Command, its green diamond pulsing with an eerie rhythm, demanding a bond sacrifice. Ethan's mind burned, the loyalty of his pack flickering before his eyes, their faces, their oaths, a tether to his humanity that threatened to snap. Pain seared through his soul, Veydranos binding deeper into his essence, his dual nature warring within him. The whispers from the shadows grew to a scream, demanding a choice: his life to end the Rite, or his pack's to fuel its power. Helena, her voice fading as she clutched her side, whispered, "Choose, Ethan, before it consumes you." Rufik, his voice cracking with the weight of his wounds, vowed to sacrifice himself in Ethan's place, his body trembling but his resolve unshaken. A guttural roar shook the chamber, the general's return imminent, its shadow looming at the pit's edge. The altar's runes flared brighter, splitting open to reveal a portal, a swirling vortex pulsing with Strahen's dark power, the path to his lair. Velhara's voice cut through the din, sharp and urgent: "The traitor's shadow strikes." Ethan stepped toward the portal, the Severed Fang pulsing in his hand, its green diamond glinting with a defiant light, his silvered eyes catching Kael's desperate muttering and Voren's faint rune flicker, both slipping unnoticed in the chaos. The pack, bleeding and weary, followed with faltering steps, the Nightbound's oaths hanging by a thread, the chamber's whispers promising doom as they faced the unknown.