Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Portal of Betrayal

The portal hurled the group into Strahen's lair, a cavernous hall of obsidian walls etched with blood-red runes that pulsed like open wounds, their glow casting an eerie, shifting light across the jagged stone. The air hung thick with the metallic reek of old blood, a scent that clung to the back of the throat, mingled with the faint, sour decay of forgotten sacrifices, and the low, resonant hum of dark power that seemed to vibrate through their bones. The severing star's faint light sliced through a shattered dome above, its fractured beams painting jagged shadows across the uneven floor, a mosaic of darkness that writhed with every echo of the general's guttural roar. That sound, a deep, primal promise of violence, reverberated through the chamber, growing louder with each pulse of the runes, a relentless drumbeat signaling danger closing in. Ethan led the way, his cursed blade pulsing against his back, its silver light and green diamond at the pommel carving through the suffocating dark, a fragile beacon in the oppressive gloom. Helena staggered beside him, her side wound seeping through its bandage, a dark stain spreading across the cloth, her arm trembling with exhaustion as she clutched her satchel, its sigils barely flickering with the last dregs of her magic. Rufik, the pack's alpha, limped with deep cuts across his leg and arm, his axe scarred from countless clashes, its edge dulled but his eyes smoldering with a fierce, unyielding authority that demanded obedience. The Nightbound followed, their spears glinting faintly in the dim light, Kael's arm and leg bandaged, his ember-red eyes burning with steely resolve, his jaw clenched tight against the pain and the weight of suspicion. The Nightbound leader, blue eyes cold and unreadable, scanned the lair with a predator's focus, while Voren, their sapphire eyes steady and betraying no emotion, trailed behind, their cloak brushing a rune-carved wall, the faint pulse of a tampered mark going unnoticed by the weary group.

Ethan's silvered gaze swept the hall, his wolf blood stirring with a primal instinct that set his nerves alight, his vampire hunger clawing at his restraint with a ferocity that threatened to shatter his control. The Blade of Command thrummed in his mind, its green diamond pulsing with an otherworldly rhythm, urging him toward the Rite's end with an insistent pull that resonated deep within his core. Yet Velhara's warning lingered like a shadow over his thoughts, her voice a haunting echo: "The traitor's shadow strikes." The void left by his mother's memory gnawed at him, a hollow ache that pulsed with every heartbeat, his humanity slipping through his fingers like sand, leaving him teetering on the edge of a abyss he feared to name. The general's roar grew louder, a sound that shook the runes underfoot and sent a shiver through the group, its vibrations rattling their already frayed nerves. Helena's voice, weak but firm, broke the oppressive tension, cutting through the roar like a lifeline. "This is Strahen's heart. The general guards the Rite's finish. We need a plan to face this nightmare." Rufik growled, his voice rough as grinding stone, his breath labored from the wounds that slowed his stride. "Our plans keep failing. Kael, your rune tricks point to you as the weak link." Kael's eyes narrowed, his clear conscience flaring into a blaze of anger that lit his face with defiance. "Me, a traitor? I've bled for this pack, for this cause! Ethan, you too question me? Rufik, your leadership's the real problem here!" His outrage erupted like a storm, and he shoved Ethan with a force that sent him staggering back, then swung a fist at Rufik, who roared in response, tackling Kael to the ground. The three clashed in a chaotic brawl, fists and claws scraping against the stone floor, the sound of their struggle echoing off the obsidian walls, a tangle of rage and desperation that threatened to tear the group apart.

Helena, gasping from the pain of her wound, her face pale but her spirit unbroken, stepped forward with a strained effort, her voice a pleading cry that rose above the fray. "Stop this! We're dying out here, and you're fighting each other?" Her words cut through the chaos like a blade, and the fight slowed, Ethan's anger fading as he stepped back, his chest heaving, his mind clearing with a sudden calm. Rufik glared at Kael, his suspicion a simmering grudge that darkened his expression, while Kael, dusting himself off with a scowl, spat, "I'm no traitor," his voice low and bitter, the air between them thickening with a distrust that hung like a shroud. As Helena fell to her knees, a soft, "Sorry," escaped Kael's lips, a flicker of concern for her safety crossing his hardened features before he turned away, the brief emotion misdirecting any lingering doubt about his loyalty. Voren, silent as a ghost, traced a rune on the wall with a subtle motion, its pulse tampered with a deft touch, unnoticed in the chaos of the brawl, their shadow deepening amidst the group's distraction.

The general emerged from the shadows, a towering figure in armor stitched with runes of rebellion, its surface glinting with a dark, rebellious sheen that seemed to absorb the light around it, its crimson eyes fixed on Ethan with a hunger that mirrored the vampire blood in his veins. Its blade, burning names off fate-scrolls with each swing, hissed with a power that left faint scorch marks on the air, a weapon that hinted at Strahen's proximity and dominion. Ethan, gripping the Severed Fang, turned to Rufik with a steady voice. "Hold the hall's center, Helena's sigils shielding us, pack and Nightbound encircling to flank, me striking with the Blade of Command when it commits. Your call, alpha." Rufik nodded, his gaze cold and unyielding on Kael. "Do it, but watch him close." The general lunged with a roar, exploiting the tampered rune, shattering Helena's fragile sigils with a single sweep and slashing a pack member's chest, blood pooling in a dark puddle on the stone, then grazing Helena's leg as she cried out, her body crumpling under the blow. Kael parried a vicious strike with his spear, his resolve unshaken despite the tension, while Rufik and Ethan countered with desperate swings. Ethan's strike with the Blade of Command flared with silver light, its green diamond blazing like a star against the darkness, but the weakened defense nearly cost them their lives, the general's blade inches from Helena's throat. His improvised thrust with the Severed Fang, fueled by the ferocity of his wolf blood and the precision of his vampire heritage, drove the beast back, banishing it into the shadows with a final, mocking hiss, leaving the group battered and breathless, Helena whimpering in pain, the pack member gasping for air.

Exhausted, their bodies drained with no food to sustain them, the group's wounds healed at a glacial pace, their limbs heavy with a fatigue that seeped into their bones.

They slumped against the cold obsidian walls, resting after the fight, their breaths ragged, their spirits sagging under the weight of their ordeal. Helena collapsed, her body trembling, but later stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she gathered her strength. She rested for a time, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, then murmured an incantation, her hands glowing with a faint, golden light as healing magic mended her side and leg, the wounds knitting closed, her strength slowly returning. The others' injuries lingered, a dull, persistent ache that gnawed at their resolve, their exhaustion a silent enemy in the dark. Rufik eyed Kael with a grudging suspicion that needed no words, his glare a barrier between them, while Ethan, calm now, scanned the lair with a quiet intensity, his anger a fleeting storm that had passed. Voren's calm demeanor masked their rune flicker, a subtle movement that went unnoticed in the group's weary state.

The group staggered toward a central dais, its runes flaring with a pulsating light that mirrored the Rite's power, the air around it crackling with energy. Ethan placed Veydranos on the stone, the severing star's light flooding the Blade of Command, its green diamond pulsing with an eerie rhythm, demanding a bond sacrifice that weighed on his soul. His mind burned with the images of his pack, their loyalty a fading tether that flickered like a dying flame, his humanity fraying at the edges, threatening to unravel completely. Pain seared through his soul, Veydranos binding deeper into his essence, its power a double-edged sword that both strengthened and tormented him. The whispers from the shadows rose to a scream, their voices demanding a choice: his life to end the Rite, or his pack's to fuel its dark purpose. Helena, healed and standing with renewed vigor, warned in a steady tone, "Strahen's coming, Ethan, and he won't wait." Rufik offered his life with a voice firm despite the pain that etched lines into his face, his wounds a testament to his resolve, while Kael, still tense from the earlier clash, insisted with a growl, "We fight on, no matter the cost.Lets move" The dais's runes split with a grinding sound, revealing a path deeper into the lair, a tunnel of shadow and light that pulsed with Strahen's dark power. Velhara's voice cut through the din, sharp and urgent: "The traitor's shadow strikes." Ethan led the group toward the path, the Severed Fang pulsing in his hand, its green diamond glinting with a defiant light, his silvered eyes catching Kael's defiant stance and Voren's subtle rune flicker, both slipping unnoticed in the chaos. The pack, weary and bleeding, followed with faltering steps, the Nightbound's oaths strained to the breaking point, the lair's whispers curling like smoke, speaking of blood, betrayal, and the end that watches.