Rise of the Immortal

Part I: Discovery and Awakening--- Chapter 1: Life in Chains

The stone floor was cold against my knees as I scrubbed away another stain that would never truly disappear. Blood, mud, and worse had seeped so deep into these dungeon stones that they'd become part of the very foundation of the Silver Fang pack house. Just like me, I supposed. Permanently stained, forever marked by seventeen years of servitude.

My hands were raw and cracked from the harsh soap, but I didn't dare slow my pace. Beta Greg would be making his rounds soon, and if he found even a speck of dirt in these cells, I'd be the one bleeding on these same stones I was trying to clean.

The memories always came strongest in moments like these, when my mind had nothing to focus on but the repetitive motions of survival. I could still remember the main house, though the images grew hazier each year. Sunlight streaming through tall windows. The soft carpet beneath my bare feet. My mother's laugh echoing down hallways that smelled of pine and fresh bread instead of damp stone and despair.

I had been seven when Alpha Marcus decided I was no longer worthy of living above ground.

"Talia's different," I remembered him telling my mother, though at the time I hadn't understood what that meant. "She doesn't shift with the other children. She may never shift at all. It's better for the pack if she learns her place early."

My place. The dungeons had been my place for a decade now. Six by eight feet of stone and iron bars, shared with whatever other "undesirables" the pack needed to store away from prying eyes. Currently, that included Old Henrik, whose wolf had been crippled in a hunting accident, and Maya, whose only crime was being born to an omega mother with no mate to claim her.

The wolf inside me – if there even was one – remained as silent as always. Other wolves my age had been shifting since they turned thirteen. They ran through the forests above my head while I remained trapped below, questioning everything I'd been told about what I was supposed to be.

"Maybe you're just human," Maya had whispered to me once during the long hours before dawn. "Maybe that's why you were sent down here."

But that couldn't be right either. Humans couldn't hear the conversations happening three floors above us, couldn't smell the fear-scent that clung to pack members when Alpha Marcus was angry, couldn't feel the strange pull in their chest when the full moon rose. I had all of these things, but no wolf to show for it.

The sound of heavy boots on stone stairs made my stomach clench. Beta Greg was early today, and from the sound of his footsteps, he was in a mood. I quickly wrung out my rag and moved to the next stain, keeping my head down as he approached.

"Well, well," his voice was like gravel mixed with honey – deceptively smooth but ultimately rough enough to cut. "Look what we have here. The little false wolf, still pretending to be useful."

I didn't respond. Speaking without permission only made things worse.

"I asked you a question," he growled, and I could hear his wolf bleeding through in his voice. The sound made every instinct I possessed scream at me to submit, to show my throat, to prove I wasn't a threat.

"I'm cleaning, Beta Greg," I said quietly, still not looking up from the floor.

His boot caught me under the chin, forcing my head back. The motion was casual, practiced, like he was adjusting a piece of furniture. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

I met his pale blue eyes, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. Any emotion – fear, anger, defiance – would be seen as provocation.

"Better," he said, though his smile held no warmth. "Now, I need these cells spotless by evening. The Alpha is expecting... visitors soon. Important ones. The kind who might not appreciate seeing our dirty laundry aired in public."

Important visitors. It had been months since anyone significant had come to Silver Fang territory. Most pack alliances were handled through written correspondence or neutral meeting grounds. For someone to visit here, they had to be very powerful indeed.

"Yes, Beta Greg," I said simply.

He studied me for a long moment, his head tilted like a predator considering whether its prey was worth the effort of killing. "You know, Talia, sometimes I wonder if Marcus was too generous keeping you alive all these years. At least the others down here had wolves once. You're just... nothing."

The words hit like physical blows, but I'd learned long ago not to let them show on my face. Pain was weakness, and weakness was blood in the water to wolves like Greg.

"Yes, Beta Greg," I repeated.

He laughed and walked away, his boots echoing off the stone walls as he climbed back toward the light I rarely saw. I waited until the sound completely faded before I allowed myself to breathe normally again.

"Bastard," Maya whispered from her cell across the narrow corridor.

"Shh," I warned, though my heart wasn't in it. She was right, of course. But speaking such truths aloud down here was dangerous. Sound carried in stone, and there were always ears listening.

I returned to my scrubbing, letting the familiar burn in my shoulders and arms ground me in the present moment. The visitors Greg mentioned worried me. Important wolves meant inspections, and inspections meant increased scrutiny on everything the Silver Fang pack wanted to keep hidden. Including us.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Old Henrik stirred in his cell. His wolf might be broken, but his hearing was still sharp. "Did you catch what he said about visitors?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, still working on a particularly stubborn stain that might have been rust or might have been something worse. "He said they were important. Important enough that Alpha Marcus wants the dungeons spotless."

"Important enough to hide us, more likely," Maya said. "Remember what happened when the Council of Alphas sent their representative two years ago?"

I did remember. We'd been locked in the deepest cells for three days without food or water while the pack pretended we didn't exist. The representative never knew that Silver Fang kept slaves in their basement, and Alpha Marcus had received commendations for his "progressive" pack management style.

"This might be different," Henrik said, though his voice lacked conviction. "Maybe they'll want to see everything."

"No one wants to see everything," I replied, scrubbing harder. "Everyone has things they need to hide."

But even as I said it, something in my chest fluttered with an emotion I didn't dare name. Hope was a dangerous thing in the dungeons. Hope made you careless. Hope made you believe that someday things might change.

Still, as I worked through the afternoon, cleaning away the evidence of violence and neglect that defined our daily existence, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. Something that would change everything, whether we wanted it to or not.

The wolf that might or might not exist within me stirred for the first time in my life, like it was waking from a long sleep. I paused in my scrubbing, pressing a hand to my chest where the sensation seemed to originate.

"What's wrong?" Maya asked, always attuned to the slightest changes in our small underground world.

"Nothing," I said quickly, but that wasn't entirely true. For just a moment, I had felt... different. Stronger. Like there was more to me than these stone walls and iron bars could contain.

The feeling faded as quickly as it had come, leaving me wondering if I'd imagined it entirely. But as I returned to my cleaning, I couldn't shake the sense that change was coming to Silver Fang territory.

Whether that change would mean salvation or destruction, I had no way of knowing.