Chapter 8 The Beast of Legends

The mountain exploded. Vincent felt the impact before he heard it; a violent tremor ripped through the Shadowlands, trees swayed, ancient pillars cracked, the hidden temple groaned beneath the strain.

Far on the horizon, an entire section of the mountain range collapsed inward, dust erupted into the night sky. For several seconds, nobody moved, nobody breathed.

Every wolf in the clearing stared at the distant destruction. The name still echoed inside Vincent's mind. "Fenrir"

The silver wolves looked terrified, the corrupted wolves looked terrified, even the giant guardian looked terrified.

That realization unsettled Vincent more than anything else. A creature powerful enough to frighten everyone here should not exist. And yet, it did.

The lead silver wolf slowly rose to its feet, its golden eyes never left the horizon.

"It woke up."

The guardian's expression hardened.

"No."

The word came immediately, almost desperately.

"It shouldn't have."

The corrupted alpha laughed nervously, a sound Vincent never expected to hear; nervous.

"You keep saying that."

The guardian ignored him. Its gaze remained fixed on the collapsing mountains. Another explosion thundered through the distance.This one louder, closer.

The ground shook again. Vincent lost his balance and stumbled. The black wolf immediately pressed against him, keeping him upright.

The gesture startled him. The rogue had been trying to kill him hours ago, now it acted like a bodyguard. Nothing about his life made sense anymore.

The silver-eyed being inside the temple suddenly spoke. For the first time, its voice lacked confidence.

"Interesting."

The guardian's head snapped toward the temple.

"Interesting?"

Its golden eyes flashed with anger. "That thing destroyed half the continent during the First War."

The clearing fell silent. Vincent's heart skipped a beat. The First War, another piece of the puzzle, another secret.

The silver-eyed being remained calm. "Then perhaps you should have killed it."

The guardian's chains rattled violently. Silver power surged around its massive body.

For a brief moment, Vincent thought the ancient wolf might attack the temple itself. Then the moment passed, the guardian looked away.

The silver wolf beside Vincent spoke quietly. "Nobody could kill Fenrir."

The statement carried absolute certainty, not belief, fact.

The corrupted alpha nodded reluctantly. "Many tried." Vincent frowned.

He was tired of hearing names and warnings without explanations.

"What exactly is Fenrir?"

The question hung in the air. Nobody answered immediately.

The silver wolves exchanged uneasy glances. The guardian's expression darkened. The corrupted alpha looked almost amused.

Finally, the lead silver wolf spoke.

"A nightmare."

Vincent waited, the wolf continued. "The first monster." That wasn't enough.

Vincent could tell from the expression on everyone's faces, there was more, much more.

The guardian finally sighed; a deep, ancient sound. "Fenrir was never supposed to exist." The silver-eyed being chuckled softly. "Neither was your king."

The guardian ignored the comment. Its gaze settled on Vincent.

"You've seen corrupted wolves."

Vincent nodded, the guardian gestured toward the corrupted alpha.

"Fenrir created them."

The clearing fell silent, Vincent stared. The corrupted alpha didn't deny it. That frightened him more than if it had.

The guardian continued. "Every corruption, every plague, every fallen pack."

"It all began with Fenrir."

Another distant roar shattered the night., this one was much closer. The wolves immediately tensed. Vincent felt it too. The sound carried power; raw, ancient, predatory. It didn't sound like a wolf, it sounded like something pretending to be one.

The black wolf growled. Its fur stood on end. The silver wolves instinctively moved closer together. The corrupted wolves did the same. For the first time, both factions looked united.

Fear did that. The silver-eyed being inside the temple suddenly laughed. The sound made Vincent uncomfortable.

"How nostalgic."

The guardian rounded on the temple. "You think this is funny?"

"No." The voice paused. "I think this is inevitable."

Before anyone could respond, another tremor rocked the Shadowlands. This one stronger than before. The hidden throne pulsed with silver light, the runes on Vincent's skin flared instantly.

BOOM!

The heartbeat returned. Every wolf dropped to the ground, every wolf except Vincent.

And this time...

Something changed, the heartbeat wasn't just loud, it was calling. Vincent felt it.

The sensation deep inside his chest. A pull, a summon. The throne was calling him again. The moment he realized it, the throne responded; silver flames erupted across its surface, the ancient runes glowed brighter, the silver-eyed being went silent. The guardian froze, the corrupted alpha took a step backward, the throne was changing, black stone cracked. Moonlight poured from the fractures.

A wave of ancient power swept across the clearing. Vincent couldn't look away.

The throne felt familiar, not because he recognized it, but because some part of him did.

A forgotten part, a buried part. The heartbeat echoed again.

BOOM!

This time, Vincent saw another vision; a battlefield, fire, blood, death.Thousands of wolves fighting beneath a black sky.

At the center stood a young man; dark hair, silver eyes, a crown of moonlight resting upon his head.

He looked familiar, terrifyingly familiar. The man slowly turned, their eyes met.

Vincent froze. Because he wasn't looking at a stranger, he was looking at himself.

The vision shattered. Vincent gasped. The clearing returned, his pulse hammered, the throne still glowed.The guardian was staring at him.

Not with fear, not anymore, with sadness. 

The expression confused him. The ancient wolf looked like someone watching history repeat itself, the silver wolf beside him whispered softly.

"No..."

Vincent turned. The wolf looked shaken, almost heartbroken.

"What?"

The silver wolf swallowed.

"You have his eyes."

The words sent a chill through Vincent. Before he could ask what that meant, a scream erupted from the forest.

Everyone turned. A wolf burst through the trees; Silver fur, golden eyes, one of the newcomers.

The wolf collapsed onto the ground, blood covered its body, deep claw marks tore through its side. The clearing exploded into motion, several wolves rushed forward.

The lead silver wolf immediately crouched beside the injured newcomer.

"What happened?"

The wounded wolf struggled to breathe. Its eyes found Vincent. Pure terror filled them, not fear of him, fear for him.

The wolf coughed blood. Then forced out two words. "They're coming."

The guardian's expression darkened instantly. The silver wolves tensed. The corrupted alpha cursed.

Vincent felt his stomach drop.

"They?"

The wounded wolf nodded weakly. Then spoke a single name. "The Hunters."

Silence, absolute silence. The effect was immediate. Every wolf reacted, the silver wolves looked horrified. The corrupted wolves looked furious. Even the guardian looked concerned.

Vincent frowned, another name, another mystery. The wounded wolf continued. "They know."

The lead silver wolf grabbed him. "Know what?" The wolf's gaze shifted toward Vincent.

His voice cracked. "They know the heir is alive." The clearing exploded into chaos, growls, shouts, panic. The guardian's chains rattled.

The silver-eyed being inside the temple laughed softly, as though it had expected this all along.

Vincent's pulse accelerated. The heir, again. Always the same thing. Bloodline, throne, king, heir.

Yet nobody would explain anything. The wounded wolf grabbed the silver leader's arm, its voice dropped to a whisper, a terrified whisper. "They brought one."

The silver leader froze, the guardian froze, even the corrupted alpha froze. The reaction terrified Vincent.

Because whatever had just been said was worse than Fenrir, much worse.

The wounded wolf's eyes slowly lifted toward Vincent. Then he whispered the final words.

"The Hunters brought an Executioner."

The moment the sentence ended, a horn echoed across the Shadowlands; deep, ancient, and impossibly close. The guardian's face drained of color, because the sound had come from directly outside the forest.

Just beyond the clearing, just beyond the temple, someone had already arrived.