Chapter 90: Old Enemies

Derek POV

Standing at the edge of Redwater's northern boundary, the morning mist clung to the trees like a second skin. More than simply the Lunar Council was shaken by the Shadow Caverns; they also awakened something more profound. Something more ancient. And it was far from finished.

Claire stood next to me, arms crossed, her gaze combing the thick forest. She had not slept much. I had not either. Rowan's injuries were more severe than we believed; he was still healing. Though neither had spoken since the night we revealed them, Tomas and Revik were in the Council's control.

It was too silent. Too peaceful. It made me angry.

Claire said abruptly, her voice low but constant.

Where to? I asked, though I already had a feeling. 

“Stormpine.” 

That name hadn’t passed my lips in years.  Stormpine was a border pack that used to be known for its warriors and strict traditions.  It was also where I lost two of my best scouts five years ago on a failed mission—their bodies never recovered.  Rumours had floated around since then.  Rogues, betrayal, even witchcraft.  I never got answers. 

“You think they’re connected?”  I asked. 

Claire nodded.  “Tomas mentioned the Flame would ‘restore the natural order.’  I’ve heard those exact words before.  Once, during my exile, from a former Stormpine warrior.  He spoke of adoring something called 'The Old Flame' and purging the bloodline.

I felt a tightening in my chest. "You believe this has been simmering for years?"

We have only witnessed the tip of it, I believe.

We departed at the same hour. Claire pushed on despite the danger. I did not dispute. She was strong, and I knew better than to attempt to stop her.

Travelling quickly, we took three Redwater guards. We got to the Stormpine borders by nightfall. It was quiet—too quiet for a pack that had once held hundreds.

The main gates stood open, vines curling around the wooden posts like claws.  Inside, the homes were half-collapsed, the training field overgrown. 

“This place is dead,” one of our guards whispered. 

Claire replied, her voice strained. It is concealing.

We moved forward cautiously. The quiet was strange. I could feel it in my bones—something here was keeping an eye on us.

Reaching what once was the Alpha's hall, I saw it: a new footprint in the soil. Too new to belong to the ghosts of this location.

I lifted a hand to indicate to the others to halt.

Someone is present.

A whistle pierced the air unexpectedly; a dart struck one of our guards' shoulders.

He fell.

Figures cloaked in dark leather and masks etched with flames sprang from the shadows before we could advance.

Surprise attack.

Just as two more darts zipped past Claire's head, I brought her down. Our last guards battled back, steel clashing with blades. Claire rose next to me, purposeful in her movement. Calm.  Lethal.

Grabbing a dropped torch, she swung it wide to knock one of the masked assailants off balance. I came after, elbowing another in the chest.

They were just desperate, not good.

Desperation, however, turns foes deadly.

After several long minutes, the last attacker fled into the woods, limping.  One of our guards was wounded, but alive.  The other remained unconscious from the dart.

Claire gasped and pulled a mask off one of the dead assailants.

"I know him," she said, crouching next to the corpse. Merek was his name. He formerly worked for Alpha Reynold. He vanished following the Alpha's fall.

I clenched my jaw. Reynold—the tyrant who formerly ruled over Redwater's neighbouring territories. Years ago, several packs, including mine, had banded together to defeat him. Afterwards, his loyalists disappeared into rogue groups—or so we believed.

"Do you believe he is alive?" I enquired.

Claire declined. "Not really." I was present at his passing. But this… this is not about Reynold. It is something more terrible. His folks are assembling. Now they are tracking the Flame.

We searched the ruined Alpha hall and found something more disturbing—maps.  Several of them.  One of Redwater.  One of the Lunar Council temples.  One of Midnight Moon. 

Lines and arrows crisscrossed between them as if someone was planning synchronized attacks. 

“They’re going to try again,” I said.  "Not just to topple the Council; rather, to eradicate leadership completely.

Claire's complexion had turned white. "They seek disorder."

Then we located it. Tucked under the maps, was a letter in jagged handwriting.

For the Flame's Children,

Get ready. In three nights, the full moon will rise. In peace, our foes grow weak. We will hit first. Redwater is falling. Then the Council.  The Flame will condemn everyone.

There was no signature.

With shaking hands, Claire held the letter. "They are planning something major. Derek, we have three days. Three days to prevent a war.

That is when we heard the sound.

Drum sets.

Low. Thumping. Out of the east.

Then howls—dozens, perhaps more.

We dashed outdoors.

Shadows shifted from the trees.

Many of them.

Scoundrels. Followers of the Flame. 

And they were already surrounding us. 

Claire turned to me, her voice tight.  We cannot battle every one of them.

"We will not," I remarked. "We run."

With the guards behind us, we dashed for the woods. The howls became more intense. Nearer.

But a tall person stepped into our way as we crested the ridge.

I froze. 

It was a woman.  Cloaked in black.  Her eyes glowed red beneath her hood. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said. 

Claire moved ahead. You the Flame?

The lady grinned.

Not at all. I am her voice.

She lifted her hand and flames shot from her palm, running towards us.

We jumped.

As we fell into the ravine below, the flames licked the ground behind us and the heat burned our backs.

I fell hard into the frigid stream. Water made me gasp and choke.

Claire was beside me, coughing but alive. 

Dripping, scorched, bleeding, and alive we ascended the bank.

Redwater had to be warned.

We had three days. 

And a war had already begun.