The Eastern Howl
The road east was carved through frostbitten mountains and narrow ravines where light seldom touched the ground. Days passed in cold silence, the air growing thinner and the sky grayer with every step.
Alaric walked ahead of Lyra now, his senses sharper, his instincts stronger. The transformation hadn't faded with the moon. Something fundamental had changed. He was no longer a creature of the cycle—he was bound to all phases of the moon.
The Moonborn weren't just werewolves.
They were evolution.
And that terrified him.
"We're close," Lyra said one evening as they descended into a glacial valley thick with pine and shadow. "The old texts called it Vargfen, the Hidden Den. They say the pack here never broke the ancient codes. If they survived... they might still follow the old rites."
Alaric sniffed the wind. "They're watching us already."
He wasn't wrong.
A low growl echoed between the trees, followed by shifting shadows—four, maybe five figures closing in, fast.
"Don't move," Lyra warned.
The first attacker burst from the underbrush in a blur of grey fur and steel-tipped claws, tackling Alaric to the snow. The werewolf's teeth snapped inches from his throat—until Alaric rolled and pinned the beast in one brutal motion.
Then he roared.
Not just sound—but power. A force that shook the trees, bent the air, and made the remaining wolves skid to a stop.
Alaric released his opponent and stood, glowing eyes locked on the biggest of the pack—an older werewolf, his muzzle streaked with white, his armor etched with the runes of the Old Tongue.
"You're not from the Circle," the elder said.
"No," Alaric replied, voice deep and edged in growl. "I'm what they tried to destroy."
The elder stepped forward slowly, eyes narrowing.
"The Moonborn died thirteen winters ago. We saw the pyre ourselves."
Alaric extended his arm. The blood oath mark still shimmered on his skin, glowing faintly under the moon.
"I was reborn," he said. "Under the Blood Moon. My name is Alaric Fenraan."
The name hit like thunder. Several wolves lowered their heads. One dropped to a knee.
The elder said nothing for a long time.
Then: "If you are truly Fenraan's heir… then darkness will follow you. Come. There is much you must see."
Alaric nodded. But he could feel it already—deep in his bones.
The real war hadn't begun yet.