The Echo of Fenraan
Dawn broke sharp and cold over Vargfen, but there was no peace in the light. Alaric stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the sun rise in silence. Below, frost-draped trees stirred in the wind like whispering sentinels.
Behind him, Lyra approached with a heavy cloak and a leather satchel.
"You didn't sleep," she said.
"I did," Alaric replied. "But someone else didn't."
She didn't ask who. They both knew.
"Seris," Lyra murmured. "You saw her again?"
"Not just saw." He turned toward her, eyes hard. "I felt her. Like we share something. Blood, maybe. Or something older."
Lyra looked troubled. "If she remembers everything, she might know more about the Circle's plan than we do."
"She doesn't just know it," Alaric said. "She believes in it."
He walked past her, into the war chamber, where the last Elders of the Eastern pack waited—Rhaegor, the rune-reader Vessa, and two younger sentinels. They stood around a stone map carved into the floor—ancient, but updated with soot and claw marks.
Alaric wasted no time. "The Circle's building something north of the Frostlands. I saw the tower in the flame. Obsidian stone. Ritual marks. They're trying to finish what they started when they killed me."
Rhaegor grunted. "Then we go north."
"It's not that simple," said Vessa. "The Frostlands are sealed. The Vale of Bones is impassable without a moonblessed token. The Circle designed it that way."
Lyra opened her satchel and dropped a cracked medallion on the stone table. "We have one."
Vessa's eyes widened. "Where did you—?"
"I found it in the ruins of Father's archive," she said. "Before they burned it."
Rhaegor grunted his approval. "Then the path is open."
"But it's not just a path," Alaric warned. "It's a trap. They want me to come. They want me to find her."
Vessa frowned. "Why?"
Alaric stared at the fire. "Because they need us together. Reborn and reborn. The Moonborn were never meant to rule alone. The prophecy speaks of two flames. One of judgment... and one of destruction."
Lyra's face paled. "And if they control her—"
"Then they only need to kill me to unchain her fully."
Silence fell over the chamber.
Then Rhaegor stepped forward and placed a hand on Alaric's shoulder. "Then we do what wolves do best. We hunt first."
Alaric nodded.
The pack began to prepare—gathering supplies, weapons, armor forged with silver and blessed by ancient rites.
But as night fell and the moon rose again, Alaric stood alone at the temple's edge. In his hand, the old medallion pulsed faintly with heat.
He looked toward the north.
"Seris," he whispered. "If you're listening…"
He closed his eyes.
"…remember who we were. Before they turned us into monsters."
And somewhere far beyond the mountains, in a tower of black stone, Seris opened her eyes.
And smiled.