Chapter 3
1447 Words
CHAPTER THREE — Shadows at the Gate
The night was a blur of claws, teeth, and blood. Rogues poured through the shattered northern
gate like a flood of nightmares, their eyes glowing with savage hunger. The ground trembled
beneath their charge, and the cries of warriors echoed through the forest like a haunting song of
war.
Zion stood in front of me, his body a wall of strength, every muscle drawn tight. His sword
glinted under the flickering torchlight, his breath steady even as the chaos swirled around us.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice rough, commanding.
I wanted to obey, I truly did, but fear and fire twisted inside me until I couldn’t tell them apart.
A rogue lunged from the smoke—massive, snarling, its jaws wide enough to crush bone. Zion
met it head-on, blade cutting through its chest in one clean motion. Blood sprayed across the
dirt. Another beast followed, then two more. Zion moved like a storm—silent, deadly, every
strike perfect. He was power made flesh.
And I—
I was still trembling, still trying to find my courage among the screams.
But then I saw her.
Kiera.
She was cornered near the wall, her sword lost somewhere in the dirt, eyes wide with terror as a
rogue crept closer, growling low.
Without thinking, I snatched up a broken spear lying at my feet. My heart hammered so hard I
could barely breathe.
“Kiera!” I shouted.
The rogue turned at my voice, and I didn’t think—I moved. The spear felt too heavy, my arms
too weak, but I thrust it forward with everything I had. It struck the beast’s shoulder, not deep
enough to kill but enough to slow it.
“Asher!” I cried.
He was there in a flash, slamming his blade through the creature’s throat. It fell, twitching,
lifeless.
Kiera gasped, her voice shaking. “You—Aurora, you saved me.”
I barely heard her. My chest burned, my hands numb around the blood-slicked spear. For the
first time in my life, I had fought back.
And survived.
“Behind you!” someone screamed.
I turned, too slow. A rogue lunged, its claws raised—then suddenly Zion was there, intercepting
the attack. His sword flashed again, and the beast collapsed before I even saw him move.
He rounded on me, eyes blazing. “I told you to stay back!”
“I can’t just stand here!” I shouted back, voice trembling but loud. “If I’m going to die, I’ll die
fighting!”
His eyes softened for the briefest second, and a muscle in his jaw tightened. “Then don’t die,”
he growled.
And just like that, we fought together.
I stayed close behind him, watching, learning his movements. Every time he struck, I followed,
using my smaller weapon to deflect or distract. My body screamed in protest, but something
fierce had awoken in me—a wild pulse that felt like it had been waiting all my life.
The battle stretched on endlessly. The air was thick with smoke and blood. My arms ached, my
throat burned, and my eyes stung from tears and ash.
Lionel’s voice cut through the noise from atop the wall. “Hold the line! Don’t let them breach
again!”
But even from here, I could see the fear in his stance. The rogues weren’t just attacking—they
were coordinated. Someone was controlling them.
“Why are there so many?” Asher gasped between swings. “They never come this far!”
Zion didn’t glance back. “Because someone sent them.”
“Who?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. His expression darkened, jaw tight as he cut another rogue down.
The words rattled in my head—someone sent them.
Who would unleash such monsters? And why… for me?
The roar came without warning.
A rogue twice the size of the others barreled through the smoke, its fangs gleaming, claws like
daggers. Its eyes locked straight on me.
My legs froze. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
“Move!” Zion shouted.
But I couldn’t.
Time slowed. The creature leapt. I could see every detail—the saliva dripping from its jaws, the
hate in its eyes—and then a blur of motion.
Zion slammed into me, shoving me hard to the ground. The rogue’s claws grazed his arm before
his sword found its heart. The creature collapsed beside us with a thud, blood pooling fast.
“Zion!” I cried, seeing the deep gash across his arm.
He shook his head, breathing hard. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, you’re bleeding—”
“Keep fighting.” His voice was iron, his eyes already back on the field.
The words caught in my throat. He was hurt because of me. Again.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself up. I wasn’t going to be a burden anymore. Not tonight.
I grabbed a fallen blade from the dirt and charged toward a rogue attacking one of our warriors.
My strike wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to give him an opening to finish the kill. My hands
stung, my lungs burned, but the fire inside me only grew stronger.
Somewhere in the distance, a horn wailed—the call to regroup. Warriors pulled back toward the
center of the clearing, wounded and panting. The ground was littered with bodies, the air thick
with smoke.
Zion’s hand brushed my shoulder as he turned toward me. “You did well,” he said quietly
The words hit harder than they should have. No one had ever told me that before. Not once in
my entire life.
Before I could answer, movement flickered at the edge of the firelight.
A lone figure stepped through the smoke, slow, deliberate. He wore a dark cloak, his hood
drawn low.
He began to clap.
“Well done,” the man said, his voice smooth, mocking. “The little wolf found her fangs tonight.”
Zion’s blade rose instantly, his stance protective. “Who are you?”
The man stopped just beyond the light, his eyes glinting red—unnatural, cold, inhuman.
“Who am I?” His grin stretched wider. “I’m the reason your pack is bleeding. I’m the reason
she”—he pointed a gloved finger at me—“exists.”
Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.
“Enough!” Lionel barked from behind us, stepping forward, his sword raised. “Kill him!”
Several warriors rushed forward, but before they could reach him, the stranger lifted a hand.
The air shimmered—and the wolves froze mid-stride, choking, their weapons falling from their
grasp.
A sick, crackling sound filled the night. Magic.
Zion’s body tensed beside me. “Witchcraft,” he muttered.
The man laughed, low and cruel. “Call it what you wish. It changes nothing. She belongs to me.”
My breath caught. “I don’t even know you.”
“Oh, you will,” he said softly, his voice slithering like smoke. “It’s written in your blood, little wolf.
And soon… you’ll remember.”
Then—just like that—he vanished. Gone.
Silence swallowed the clearing. The fires crackled, warriors coughed, and somewhere, a
wounded wolf whimpered.
I turned to Zion, my hands still shaking. “What just happened?”
His jaw tightened. “A warning,” he said quietly. “And not the last one.”
And before I could ask more, a distant howl split the air—low, deep, and hungry
Zion’s head snapped toward the forest. Dozens of glowing red eyes blinked between the trees.
My heart stuttered. “More of them?”
He took a step forward, his sword raised once more. “No,” he said grimly. “Something worse.”
The wind died. The world seemed to hold its breath.
And then, out of the darkness, something roared.
- Writer
