The Wolfless Queen

**THIRD PERSON POV** Night settled over Ridgefall Border Pack like a heavy coat, thick and cold and unwilling to lift. The last streaks of daylight faded behind the tree line, turning the forest into black silhouettes. Warriors lined the ridge in tight formation, every breath visible in the cooling air. No one spoke. Silence had weight tonight. Rumors had spread all day, carried by scouts who returned pale faced and shaking. The rogue horde had doubled in size. Some said tripled. No one could agree on the exact number, only that it was far more than any border pack should ever have to face without reinforcements. Ridgefall had sent requests to neighboring packs, but help would not arrive in time. The rogues were coming tonight. Torches flickered along the inner trenches. Warriors shifted uneasily, checking and rechecking weapons. The scent of tension, sharp and metallic, filled the air. Commander Hale walked the line, shoulders tight, gaze locked on the darkened forest. He had seen dozens of engagements, survived battles that should have killed him, but nothing in his memory prepared him for the way the trees felt tonight. As if something inside them waited. Hunger pressed against the border. Hale drew in a slow breath and forced his voice to steady. "Hold fast. No one breaks formation. They come sick and unstable. Do not let them touch you." The warnings about the sickness had reached them at sunset. Rogues with veins stained silver. Rogues whose bodies convulsed and twisted like something was burning them from the inside. Rogues who attacked in packs rather than scattered raids. It was unnatural. A young warrior, Lorn, swallowed hard. "Sir, if the rumors are true, if they really doubled overnight, can we hold them?" Hale did not answer immediately. His gaze swept the forest again. Leaves rustled where no wind moved. Something cracked in the distance. Something breathed. "We hold," he said at last. "That is all we can do." A low murmur rippled through the ranks. Fear was not new, but this kind of fear felt different. This felt like standing on the edge of an unseen cliff. Then the horns blasted twice. Rogues. Warriors snapped to full readiness. Shields lifted. Claws extended. Wolves pressed forward, bodies tensing, instincts roaring in their blood. The ground trembled under dozens of approaching footsteps. The first rogue broke from the trees and stumbled into the night light. Gasps tore up the line. The creature had been a wolf once, maybe even a strong one, but its fur was patchy and dull, its body gaunt, its eyes sunken. Silver streaked its veins like molten metal frozen under the skin. It growled, the sound wet and broken. More followed. Dozens. Their bodies convulsed with every step, as if pain drove them. Their jaws snapped uncontrollably. Foam spilled from cracked lips. Some dragged limbs that did not seem to obey them. Others trembled so hard they looked ready to split apart. "Moon sickness," someone whispered. "It has to be." Another voice answered with shaking disbelief. "That is not moon sickness. I have seen moon sickness. This is something else." The rogues gathered into a loose line, panting and snarling. Behind them, the forest groaned with movement. The sound of more bodies shifting between trees. Many more. Hale steadied his stance and raised a hand. "Prepare to shift. If they charge, we meet them full force. No hesitation." The warriors braced. Seconds stretched. The rogues lunged. The line of diseased bodies surged forward with a collective snarl that rattled the shields. Warriors gritted their teeth and prepared for impact. Then the world changed. Every rogue froze mid charge. Some halted so abruptly they crashed into each other. Others collapsed forward but did not rise. Their limbs held stiff, as if invisible chains pulled tight around them. A shocked silence spread through the Ridgefall warriors. Even Hale felt his breath catch. Wolves were creatures of instinct. Even rogues would not stop like this. Not without a command. Not without an Alpha voice. But no one had spoken. The forest behind the rogues shifted again. Something moved between the trees. A shape. Tall. Still. Wrongly quiet. It stepped into faint moonlight but revealed nothing of its form. No features. No scent. No aura. Just a shadow among shadows. It stood behind the entire rogue horde as if it had been there all along, waiting for the moment to be seen. Hale felt his skin prickle. "Who is that?" No one answered. Warriors leaned forward, trying to catch even a hint of scent, a flicker of aura. Nothing came. It was like the figure did not exist at all. The shadow lifted a hand, slowly and calmly. As if performing a gesture it had done thousands of times before. Every rogue dropped to its knees. The sound was like a storm of bodies hitting the ground at once. Wolves who moments ago had been frothing with violence now bowed their heads. Their bodies trembled but no longer fought against the invisible command. Whispers broke out behind Hale. "Is it an Alpha?" "No Alpha has that kind of dominance." "It has no aura. What Alpha has no aura?" "Is it a witch?" "Witches do not command wolves." "Then what is it?" Fear twisted through the ranks, sharper than claws. Warriors exchanged horrified glances. Their wolves shifted inside them, unsettled, instinctively aware that something unnatural stood on the other side of the clearing. The shadow did nothing else. No words. No threat. Not even a step forward. It held its raised hand a moment longer, then lowered it with the grace of someone lowering a curtain. The rogues rose. Not on their own. Not chaotically. Not like sick creatures fighting for control. They rose together. As one. The shadow turned and stepped back toward the forest. Again, no sound followed. Not a snapped twig. Not a crushed leaf. It moved like darkness given shape, barely touching the ground. The rogues followed. Rows of trembling bodies retreating into the trees in tight coordination, matching the pace of the figure that commanded them. It should have been impossible. Rogues were unpredictable. They never retreated in formation. They never obeyed without a spoken order. They vanished into the darkness. Their shapes blended into the forest until nothing remained but silence. Hale could not make himself breathe. A warrior behind him whispered, "What kind of Alpha commands without a voice?" The Alpha of Ridgefall, who had been standing near the back of the formation, stepped forward with an expression carved from stone. His eyes stayed fixed on the forest, as if waiting for something else to emerge. "Nothing in this forest commands rogues," he said quietly. "Nothing alive." A shiver ran through the warriors. Some glanced at each other, searching for answers they knew they would not find. Others looked back at the forest, dread forming heavy lumps in their throats. They had survived the night, but it did not feel like a victory. It felt like a warning. Then the border sensors clicked. Once. Twice. A shrill alarm cut through the clearing. Something still moved out there. Hale stiffened. "Movement on the left ridge. Do not let your guard down. Whatever that thing was, it may not have gone far." Warriors scrambled back into defensive positions. Heartbeats hammered through the air. The forest, so quiet a moment ago, now felt charged again. Waiting and watching. The Alpha raised his hand to silence his pack. His gaze narrowed at the shadowed ridge. Leaves rustled. A branch creaked. Something stepped through the underbrush. No one breathed. The figure did not show itself this time. Only a faint shape. A ripple among the trees. As if an outline of something tall and impossibly silent stood just beyond the reach of moonlight. The forest held its breath with them. Then the sensors screamed again. Three sharp pulses. Whatever lingered on the border had not left. It was watching. And it wanted them to know it. The Alpha whispered to Hale without turning his head. "Send for every scout we have. Tonight just became the start of something far worse." Hale nodded but did not move his gaze from the ridge. Something waited in that darkness. Something that could command rogues like puppets. Something with no scent, no aura, and no reason to retreat. Something that did not behave like a creature at all. A shadow shifted once more, as if acknowledging their fear. Then the ridge went still. The night pressed in, heavy and waiting. And Ridgefall Border Pack understood that whatever they had seen was only the beginning.