The storm clouds swelled like smoke across the horizon, casting the Hollow of Ancients in shadow. The trees whispered warnings, their ancient branches creaking as Kaelin stepped across the stone threshold, her boots soaked with dew and dusted in pollen. Theron walked beside her, the Alpha King's cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a great predator. His gaze never left her.
Kaelin held the fragment of the prophecy—a torn parchment bearing only a sliver of truth—in trembling fingers. “We’re close,” she whispered.
Theron nodded. “Too close to turn back now.”
Their companions followed closely: Elira, the sharp-eyed seer with storm-gray eyes and a tongue sharper than any blade. Then came Bastian, the grizzled Beta who had served Theron since childhood, and Myrra, a newly awakened ma
