Chapter 173: My Name is Daniel Kairus

Daniel’s POV

The car hummed beneath us, but my head was no longer in the present. With every passing mile toward the realm, the past forced its claws deeper into me. I could smell it again. Blood. Smoke. Fear.

I was back there.

The night it all ended.

My name is Daniel Kairus of the Obsidian Clan…the last son of a fallen Alpha.

And this is my story.

A story carved in blood and betrayal.

A story I never asked to carry, yet it clings to me like a curse.

I was 23 when it happened. The Moonlight Festival was supposed to be sacred. A night when every Obsidian wolf shed their burdens under the full moon, celebrating the bond we held with the Goddess herself.

We weren’t just any clan…we were her guardians. The ones entrusted to protect the mountain where her light touched the earth. For centuries, no enemy had dared trespass. No rogue had ever crossed our borders and lived to tell the tale.

But that night…

I wasn’t there.

I should’ve been in the clearing, laughing, dancing, howling with the others.

While my brothers, sisters and the entire clan danced beneath the Goddess’s light, I was shut away in my room, headphones crushing my ears, drowning in heartbreak. The girl I loved…

Mira…had found her mate. And it wasn’t me.

I had always known it was foolish, holding onto that hope. But when the bond snapped between her and another wolf, I felt it like a blade carving through bone. My wolf recoiled, my chest cracked open, and the sounds of laughter and joy outside mocked me.

So, I turned up my headphones. Louder. Louder. Until the bass rattled my skull and the world outside blurred away.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting myself drown. Letting the celebration pass me by.

And then…

The chill came.

A sudden, unnatural cold that crawled over my skin. My wolf stirred uneasily, ears pricked. I slid the headphones off, frowning. That’s when I heard it.

The first scream.

High-pitched. Sharp. Shattering the rhythm of drums and flutes outside. Then another. A shriek cut short. Then a chorus of them…men, women, children…all breaking in agony.

The music stopped.

The laughter stopped.

The smell hit me next. Metallic. Thick. The iron tang of blood mixing with the acrid burn of smoke. My body moved before my mind did, bolting upright, heart slamming into my ribs.

By the time I stumbled outside, it was already too late.

Bodies littered the sacred clearing. Wolves…our wolves…lay strewn in grotesque angles, their eyes glazed, throats torn, claws still bloodied from a fight they hadn’t been strong enough to win. The bonfire that had been lit for the Goddess burned low, sputtering black smoke as if mourning us.

And among the corpses… rogues.

Dozens of them. Snarling, tearing, feasting. Their eyes glowed with madness, their movements too precise to be a chance. This wasn’t chaos… It wasn't an accident. It was a strategy to wipe out my clan.

I shifted, my wolf bursting through me with a roar of anguish, ripping into the first beast I saw. I tore through them, but it was like drowning in an endless tide. For every rogue I cut down, two more surged forward.

And then I smelled it.

Not just blood. Not just death. Something bitter, poisonous, staining the air itself.

I staggered toward the overturned tables where the goblets lay spilled, the silver cups glinting in the firelight. My claws wrapped around one, and I brought it to my nose.

The stench made me gag.

Pyxroot.

A rare toxin. I’d only ever heard whispers of it. A poison forged from roots that grew at the base of cursed graves, capable of tainting the Moon Goddess’s blessing itself. To others, it was just poison. But to us…the Obsidian clan…it was death. It weakened our wolves, dulled our senses, severed our bond to her light.

Our celebration hadn’t been breached. It had been sabotaged.

An insider.

The realization gutted me. One of us had poured this into our drinks, weakening us before the rogues struck. But who? And why?

My father’s howl echoed somewhere in the chaos, commanding, desperate. My mother’s answering cry followed…and then cut short.

I lunged toward them, but a hand caught me. Bloody. Trembling.

My mother’s sister, her abdomen slashed open, blood soaking her gown. She dragged me close, her nails digging into my arms as she pressed a piece of paper into my hand, her voice rasped through the blood in her throat.

“Run, Daniel. Save our clan by saving yourself. Find Richard Blackwood. Tell him…tell him I sent you. He will help you.”

“No! I can fight—”

Her scream shook me. “RUN! Daniel Run!”

I can still hear it in my nightmares. The desperation. The command. The finality.

She shoved me away just as a rogue’s claws sank into her back. She collapsed beneath them, snarling even as she bled out, giving me the chance to escape.

I ran. Gods, I ran. Bloodied. Half-shifted. My lungs burning, my heart breaking with every step as the sounds of my clan dying rose behind me.

My parents. Mira. My brothers. My sisters. All gone.

And me? I lived.

I don’t even remember how I got to the address she gave me, or collapsing on Mr Richard’s doorstep. I just remember waking up days later, bandaged, under his roof.

When I tried reaching the king for justice, I was told that the clan had been given a “befitting burial.”

But I wasn’t there. I never saw their graves. I never laid their spirits to rest.

That night stripped everything from me. My family. My home. My purpose.

And it left me with questions that still burn holes in my chest.

Who betrayed us? Who poisoned us? Why would anyone want to wipe out the most peaceful clan in the realm?

The King said he is “protecting” me, by keeping me away from the realm. By keeping me from getting to the bottom of my nightmare.

To hell with that. I was a coward for running away that night. I was a coward for sulking and locking myself away while my clan was brutally wiped out.

But I’ll redeem myself by tearing down everyone responsible for that night.

The wounds I carried from that night were more than just flesh-deep. They cut into me in ways my wolf could not mend.

The gashes across my body festered longer than they should have, but it wasn’t the blood loss that kept me broken…it was the grief. My mind was drowning in it, and grief has a way of shackling even the fiercest beast. My wolf struggled, fighting to stitch me back together, but the weight of loss dragged us both into silence for far too long.

Now that my wolf has fully healed, now that the wounds are nothing but scars and my strength and Obsidian energy has returned, I will tear this realm apart to uncover the truth.

That night didn’t just take my clan. It took me.

And I’ll never stop until I take it all back.