ALPHA OF THE FORGOTTEN PACK

Chapter 9: Shadows in the Ridge

The journey back from the Vale was longer than Selene remembered. Every mile felt heavier, as if the blade itself carried more than weight—it carried a promise. She had wrapped it in cloth to hide the silver gleam, but even concealed, it seemed to hum faintly in her hands. Cael stayed close, his eyes scanning the forest, as if he expected danger to leap from the shadows at any moment.

When they reached camp, the sky was already painted in the pale light before dawn. Ronan met them at the edge, his expression tightening at the sight of the bundle. “Tell me that’s not another cursed relic,” he muttered. Selene pulled back the cloth just enough for the crescent-guard hilt to catch the light. “It’s not cursed. "It’s mine.”“Sure,” Ronan said dryly. “Because that’s exactly what cursed things say before they eat your soul.” Nalia, leaning against the gatepost, tilted her head. “It’s not ordinary. I can feel it from here. Whatever it is, you should keep it hidden. "Some eyes are already too interested in you,” Selene agreed. The alliance was still new, fragile, and she wasn’t ready to reveal this weapon to leaders who might see it as a threat—or an excuse to challenge her. That evening, she sat in her tent with the blade laid across her knees. The runes glimmered faintly, shifting like they were alive. She ran her fingers over them, tracing unfamiliar patterns, and as she did, a faint warmth spread up her arm. It wasn’t painful. It was almost… comforting.A whisper brushed her thoughts—not as sharp as in the Vale, but still there. The Moon’s Edge chooses its wielder, and you have been chosen. Selene’s breath caught. “Chosen for what?” For the moment when peace fails. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Instead, she rose and stepped outside. The camp was quiet, most wolves sleeping, the guards posted along the perimeter. She walked to the training grounds, the frozen grass crunching under her boots. Drawing the blade, she tested its weight. It moved as if it was part of her, slicing through the air without resistance. When she swung at a training post, the wood split cleanly in two with barely any effort. She stared at the blade, her pulse quickening. A shadow moved at the edge of the ground. Cael emerged, arms crossed. “Couldn’t sleep?” She sheathed the weapon. “It feels… different. "Like it knows me.” He stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the runes. “Or it’s learning you. Which means" you should be careful what you teach it.” Selene almost laughed, but his tone wasn’t playful. “You think it’s dangerous?”“I think,” Cael said, “that nothing in this world is given without a cost.” The next morning, the council gathered again. Marek of Silverfang spoke first, his voice sharp. “Scouts reported strange movement near the Ridge of Crows. Groups traveling by night. "Too quiet, too organized to be hunters.” Keira of Shadowpine leaned forward. “You think it’s the Reclaimers?”“They were broken,” Marek said. “But not destroyed.” Selene’s stomach tightened. She had hoped for more time before another threat emerged. The Moon’s Edge felt heavy at her side, as if it too knew what this meant. Ronan glanced at her.“What’s our move?” Selene didn’t hesitate. “We sent scouts. If it was the Reclaimers regrouping, we cut them off before they grew strong again.” Keira’s smirk was faint but pointed. “You speak as if you’re already leading us.” Selene met her gaze evenly. “I speak as someone who doesn’t want another war in our backyards.” There was a murmur of agreement. Even Keira didn’t argue further. That night, Selene couldn’t shake the sense that the Vale had not called her simply to give her a weapon—it had warned her. And if the Reclaimers were indeed moving again, then the peace she had fought so hard to win was already cracking. As the moonlight spilled into her tent, she drew the Moon’s Edge once more. The runes glimmered like ice, and in their reflection she

Thought she saw not her own eyes, but the silver gaze of the Moon Goddess. The fight was not over, the whisper came again. It has only changed its shape. The Ridge of Crows had always been a place of uneasy superstition. Even before the war, packs whispered of strange disappearances and the way the wind there carried voices that weren’t its own. Selene had dismissed it once as a rumor, but Marek’s report lingered in her mind all night. By morning, she was already choosing her scouts. Ronan stood by the war table as she entered, maps spread before him. “I’ve picked the fastest pairs,” he said without looking up. “Nalia and Jarek would take the west approach. Lysa and Fen would circle from the north. "I’ll lead the central path.” Selene shook her head. “No. "You’ll stay here.” Ronan’s eyes lifted, sharp with surprise. “You don’t trust me out there?”“I trust you more than anyone,” she said. “That’s why you’re staying to guard the camp. "If I’m wrong, and this is nothing, we lose nothing. "If I’m right…” She glanced toward the map’s jagged ink strokes marking the Ridge. “If I’m right, we’ll need someone here ready to command.” He didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue. Cael entered then, already armed. “I’m coming with you.” It wasn’t a question. The journey to the Ridge took most of the day. The forest grew denser the further they went, the trees twisting upward like skeletal fingers against the grey sky. Even the air felt wrong—too still, too heavy. The only sound was the crunch of frost beneath their boots and the distant caw of unseen crows. They stopped at the crest of a rise, where the land dropped into a valley. Below, a scattering of campfires flickered faintly through the mist. Selene crouched, narrowing her eyes.“Too many for hunters,” Cael murmured. She counted quickly. At least thirty. Maybe more in the shadows.” They watched in silence as dark figures moved between the fires, their outlines distorted by the fog. Something about their movements prickled at Selene’s instincts—they were disciplined, like soldiers. Then one figure stepped into clearer view, and Selene’s breath caught. Tall, broad-shouldered, his hair tied back in the style she had seen only once before—in the Reclaimer stronghold. Cael tensed beside her. “That’s not possible.” But it was. Selene knew the man’s face, even from a distance. Garron Vey, second-in-command to Drevon Thornfang, was presumed dead in the last battle.

They stayed hidden until the fires began to dim. Only then did Selene signal to retreat. They slipped back through the forest in silence, the weight of what they’d seen pressing on both of them. When they reached the outer edges of their territory, Selene finally spoke. “If Garron’s alive, he’s not alone. "He’s too disciplined to act without a leader.” Cael’s voice was grim. “Then Drevon might be alive too.” The possibility hung between them like a shadow. They had both seen Drevon fall—hadn’t they? The chaos of battle made memory slippery, and doubt was poisonous in times like these. Back at camp, Ronan met them at the gates. “You found something.” It wasn’t a question. "Selene didn’t waste words, “said Garron Vey. Alive. "Commanding at least thirty men,” Ronan swore under his breath. “Then this isn’t a remnant. "This is a seed.” Nalia joined them, her face pale. “I heard rumors in the northern villages,” she said. “Whispers of a ‘Black Alpha’ gathering followers. "No one dares speak his name.” Selene’s grip tightened on the Moon’s Edge at her side. The blade felt warm, as if it, too, recognized the threat. That night, Selene stood alone at the MoonHowl Shrine again. The moonlight seemed sharper, cutting through the shadows like silver steel. She unsheathed the blade, holding it before her.“If this is the fight you meant,” she whispered to the unseen Goddess, “then I’m ready.” The runes along the blade glowed faintly, a soft pulse like the beat of a heart. And somewhere in the stillness, she thought she heard the distant call of crows.