The call to arms echoed across the summit as morning broke. Horns sounded, and banners rose—pack colors fluttering in the wind beside the silver flame crest of the Alpha Queen. Wolves and warriors alike gathered in force, steel and magic gleaming under the pale sunlight.
Selene stood at the head of the formation, mounted on her obsidian-furred steed. Her silver armor shimmered with runes of protection, Moonfire strapped across her back. She radiated calm power, her wolf spirit just beneath the surface—watching, listening, waiting.
Behind her, a vast army stretched out, made up of once-fractured clans, now marching as one. Bloodfang warriors marched beside Nightmist shamans. Moon Priestesses moved with glowing staffs, while archers of the Hollowvale ran silently through the trees above. The Lost Clans brought elemental wolves made of earth and fire.
It was a sight no pack had seen in generations.
A united front.
A single purpose.
To end Damien Thorn's madness before the Voidfang cult could unleash what slumbered beneath Ironclaw.
Korren rode beside Selene, eyes alert. "You've pulled together a force stronger than any High Council ever did."
Selene glanced sideways at him. "And still, it may not be enough."
"You don't believe that," Jace said from her other side, cleaning his blades.
"I believe we'll win," Selene replied. "But I also know Damien isn't playing by the rules anymore."
Saria galloped up, her face pale but determined. "The energy around Ironclaw is shifting. I felt it in my bones before we crossed the first ridge. The ground is humming with something unnatural."
Selene turned her gaze to the distant ruins—barely visible in the mist ahead.
"Ironclaw was once a place of power. The Council built it on ley lines, drawing energy from the land itself. If Damien's twisted those veins of magic…"
"He could tear a hole in the realm," Saria finished.
As the army advanced into Ironclaw territory, they passed old battlegrounds and burned-out villages—ghosts of the war that had fractured the packs so long ago.
Kael joined the group as they reached a shattered stone gate, once the proud entrance to Ironclaw's capital. Now, moss-covered and cracked, it looked more like the mouth of a tomb.
"Signs of blood rituals everywhere," he muttered. "Void symbols burned into the earth. He's opened a conduit."
Selene nodded, voice quiet but firm. "He's not trying to rule. He's trying to summon something that was sealed for a reason."
They set up a forward camp at the base of the mountain where the Ironclaw fortress once stood. It was now a jagged ruin of obsidian stone, blackened by fire and corrupted magic.
Selene called her council into the war tent.
Maps covered the table, with Saria's magical senses marked in glowing symbols.
"There's a central chamber beneath the fortress," Saria said. "That's where the rituals are focused."
"It's the original chamber of the old kings," Kael added. "Where the first packs swore their loyalty to the moon. If he defiles it…"
Selene didn't let him finish.
"He won't."
Korren slammed a fist against the table. "Then we strike before nightfall. Take the fight underground."
Selene looked to each of them. "We divide the forces. One group protects the outer ridge and holds the pass. The other comes with me. We descend into the ruins and destroy the source."
"I'm coming," Jace said without hesitation.
"And me," Saria added. "He's using dark magic—I'll need to shield you from it."
Daemon limped forward, bandaged but unshaken. "Try and leave me behind. I dare you."
Selene nodded. "Then it's settled."
As the sun sank, casting blood-red light over the ruins, Selene gathered the soldiers bound for the underground chambers.
She raised Moonfire high.
"Damien believes he's already won. That by defiling our past, he controls our future."
She pointed the blade toward the fortress.
"But he's wrong. The moon watches. The blood remembers. And tonight—we take back what's ours."
A great howl echoed across the cliffs—one voice that became many as every wolf, every warrior, every elemental beast answered their Queen's call.
Inside the ruins, it was deathly silent.
The air was thick with dark magic. The stones pulsed with blood-colored veins.
Selene led the way, her sword glowing faintly in warning.
Whispers clung to the walls like cobwebs—voices of the past, twisted by void energy.
Saria cast a glowing ward that pushed the corruption back just enough for them to move deeper.
And then… they heard it.
A low, rhythmic chant.
Voices rising from the very heart of the fortress.
Daemon growled softly. "We're close."
They entered the ancient throne chamber.
It had been transformed into a temple of madness.
Candles burned black.
Symbols writhed on the floor.
And at the center stood Damien Thorn, cloaked in shadows, the Voidfang cult kneeling around him.
He turned slowly, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Welcome, Selene. I was hoping you'd come to watch me ascend."
Behind him, a portal of shifting darkness pulsed and hissed—alive with something ancient and hungry.
Selene stepped forward, Moonfire blazing in her grip.
"You will not desecrate the blood of the packs."
Damien spread his arms.
"I already have."
And with that, the portal cracked wide open—and the final battle began.