Chapter 36: Smoke Between the Trees
973 Words
Abigail’s POV
The fire crackled in the center of the circle, sending up ribbons of orange and gold into the night. Around it, the leaders of the newly allied packs murmured amongst themselves, their voices low but filled with tension.
This wasn’t a celebration.
It was a war council.
Lucian sat beside me, his posture deceptively relaxed, but I could feel the coil of tension beneath his skin. We had won the battle in the Crimson Hall. Victor was dead, and Gideon had retreated wounded, but not destroyed. Still, uniting the packs in the aftermath was proving more challenging than expected.
Too many wounds. Too much history. And not enough trust.
“The Riverfangs demand border guarantees,” muttered Orion, brushing soot from his sleeve as he unrolled a rough map of the northern territories. “They don’t want a repeat of the Hollow Rebellion.”
“They should’ve thought of that before they sided with Victor,” Zane snapped from across the fire, arms crossed. “Now they want mercy?”
“We’re not here for revenge,” I said, steady but firm. “We’re here to rebuild. That means giving packs a reason to believe in our cause.”
Zane muttered something under his breath, but relented.
Elara, quiet until now, leaned forward, her violet eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “There’s movement near the Blightwood. Strange energy. Feral, unnatural. I don’t think Gideon fled alone.”
A chill slid down my spine.
The Blightwood was a cursed land. Twisted trees. No sunlight. Stories of things that whispered in the dark, eating the minds of those who strayed too close.
“If he’s there, he’s gathering power,” Lucian said grimly. “Dark magic lingers in the roots of that place. It could feed him.”
I nodded. “Then we’ll starve him.”
We left the following morning with a scouting party: me, Lucian, Orion, Zane, Elara, and Ivy. The forest thickened as we approached the Blightwood, the air turning damp and unnaturally cold. Sunlight couldn’t pierce the black canopy overhead.
Even the birds had stopped singing.
“This place smells like death,” Ivy murmured, her bow already strung.
She wasn’t wrong.
Elara touched a tree trunk, her breath hitching. “They’re... watching.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The forest.”
I didn’t question her. Elara saw things others couldn’t. And right now, every instinct in me screamed that we were being followed.
We pushed deeper into the Blightwood, the underbrush crunching beneath our boots. A low mist hugged the ground, curling around our legs like fingers.
Then we found the ruins.
A shattered temple, buried under vines and moss. The stones were blackened as if scorched by fire long ago, and symbols ancient, clawed, and seething with residual magic etched every wall.
“What is this place?” Zane asked, his voice hushed.
“A temple of the First Moon,” Elara whispered. “Long abandoned. Desecrated.”
Lucian crouched beside a stone altar, frowning. “Blood,” he said. “Fresh.”
My heart stuttered. “He’s here.”
A screech split the silence.
It didn’t sound human.
Something lunged from the shadows, pale, with stretched limbs and empty eyes. Not a wolf. Not a man.
A Shadeborn.
One of Gideon’s creations.
We scattered. Zane tackled it head-on, driving his blade into its gut. But it kept moving, silent, unfeeling. Ivy fired arrow after arrow, but it took three to bring the thing down.
And then more came.
Dozens of them.
They poured from the trees like smoke given form, surrounding the ruins in a slow, tightening circle.
“We need to fall back!” Orion barked.
“No,” I growled. “Not yet.”
I drew the Moondrinker from its sheath.
The relic pulsed in my hand, cold and alive.
A soft hum filled the air, and the Shades froze. Just for a second. Just long enough for us to break the line and charge into the trees.
We ran until the howls faded behind us.
When we stopped, gasping, bleeding, covered in dirt and ash, we weren’t in the Blightwood anymore.
We were in a clearing.
A circle of ancient standing stones surrounded us, humming with celestial energy. Moonlight, pure and silver, bathed the space in unnatural clarity.
Elara dropped to her knees. “This is… sacred.”
I looked at the center stone.
A name carved into its surface.
Selene Nightshade.
My old mentor. The High Seer. The woman who’d helped raise me after my mother died.
The air shimmered.
And then… she was there.
Not in body, but in spirit.
“Abigail,” Selene said, her voice like wind through leaves. “The Moondrinker has chosen you. But the shadows are growing. Gideon feeds on the fear of the world. He must be stopped before the eclipse.”
“The eclipse?” I asked.
“A celestial event,” Elara murmured. “A convergence. The last time it happened, the Phantom Pack fell.”
Selene’s gaze held mine. “You must awaken what sleeps in your blood. The Huntress stirs, but you are still half-asleep.”
“How?” I asked.
Accept the trials. Walk the path. Face the past… and the truth of your power.”
With that, her form faded, leaving behind only silence and moonlight.
We made camp just outside the Blightwood, shaken but alive.
Lucian sat beside me, staring into the flames. “What are you thinking?”
“That we don’t have time,” I whispered. “If Gideon’s preparing for the eclipse, then everything we’ve done, unifying the packs, killing Victor, it won’t be enough.”
Lucian reached for my hand, his warmth grounding me. “Then we do what we’ve always done.”
I looked up at him.
“We fight.”
- Writer
