The corrupted beast lunged.
Its twisted antlers tore through bark and branch as it bore down on the Pack, howling with a voice that was neither animal nor spirit. Its eyes were empty, but its intent was clear—consume, devour, infect.
Lyra moved first. She darted to the left, drawing its attention with a defiant snarl. Brann flanked to the right, claws extended and ready. The younger wolves, though trembling, followed suit, forming a shifting circle of motion to distract and confuse.
But it wasn't enough.
The creature was faster than anything they had faced. A blur of rot and power, it lashed out with limbs that reeked of the dead forest. One of the younger wolves—a pale-furred scout named Torren—was caught mid-dash. The beast's jagged hoof struck him with a sickening crunch, and he was hurled into the underbrush, motionless.
"Torren!" Lyra cried.
Brann's rage boiled over, and he launched himself at the monster. His claws raked across its corrupted flesh, but the wound hissed, healed, and laughed in silence.
They were losing.
And then, the wind shifted.
🔥 The Arrival
Kael burst through the treeline like a storm. Leaves spiraled behind him, caught in a current of energy that pulsed with the rhythm of the moon. His eyes—now flecked with silver—glowed faintly in the half-light. His breath was wild, heavy, but steady.
"Kael?!" Lyra gasped. "What are you—how did you—"
But the question died in her throat.
Because the boy who stumbled into the glade days ago… was gone.
Kael raised his right hand.
The mark that had burned beneath his skin since he touched the altar now glimmered with crescent light. Veins of silver etched up his forearm like vines of ancient power, and when he stepped forward, the very air trembled.
"I can feel it," Kael whispered to no one and everyone. "It's hungry. Twisted. Wrong."
The beast turned toward him.
And charged.
Kael didn't move. He didn't need to.
The power within him—the blood of the Moonbound—answered the call.
🌕 The Moonflare Awakens
The world slowed.
Kael felt time stretch, not like a clock, but like breath—rising, falling, timeless.
His vision sharpened. The corrupted beast's movements became a dance of anger and pain. But Kael could see beyond it—to the corruption writhing inside.
He raised both hands now.
With a cry that echoed with old voices and wild stars, he unleashed.
A pulse of radiant silver exploded from his body, shaped not by magic, but by instinct—pure and primal. The wave struck the creature mid-charge, lifting it into the air and pinning it against a nearby rock wall.
It screamed.
The sound—terrible and pitiful—was not that of a monster, but of something that once lived... and had long forgotten how.
The Pack stared in awe as Kael approached the beast, arm outstretched. He placed a hand on its twisted skull.
"You were never meant to die like this," he said, voice trembling. "I see you."
A flash of white.
A howl of release.
And the creature dissolved—not into blood, but into light. Clean, cold light, that shimmered into the sky and faded like falling snow.
Silence.
🐺 The Pack Kneels
Kael turned back, breathing heavily. The silver veins in his arms dulled, but the mark on his hand remained—no longer burning, but glowing gently.
No one spoke for a long moment.
Then Brann took a step forward and knelt on one knee, head bowed. "Moonbound... Alpha."
Lyra followed. "He saved us all."
One by one, the wolves of the Pack knelt before him.
Kael stood frozen. He had not asked for this. He did not yet understand the weight they offered him. But in that moment, as the forest around them exhaled and the night sky cleared, he realized something.
This wasn't just about him anymore.
This was his Pack.
The Lorekeeper Watches
Far from the battlefield, deep beneath the Earth, Saerith the Lorekeeper sat before the Obsidian Mirror. The ripples of Kael's power still danced across its surface.
He smiled—not in joy, but in solemn understanding.
"The blood awakens," he whispered. "And the Balance begins to shift."
Behind him, ancient tomes rustled, and from a sealed doorway came a low growl—not animal, but something else.
"They'll come for him soon," Saerith muttered. "Let's see if the boy is truly ready."