CHAPTER 159

CHAPTER 159
Echoes in the Hollow

By morning, the snow had thickened, layering the forest like a shroud. Inside the Hollow, silence ruled. The pack kept close to the fire, speaking only when necessary, their wounds bandaged and their spirits muted. Joel stood apart, arms folded, staring into the cold wall of stone. His mind raced.

The ambush hadn’t just been a warning. It was a mirror.

They were being studied… probed for weakness, reaction, formation. Every movement Joel made had likely been watched. And that single glowing eyed scout who vanished into the night… that wasn’t a foot soldier. That was a harbinger.

Lynk approached with two steaming cups. “Cedar bark tea. Keeps the mind sharp, or so the old ones say.”

Joel didn’t move. “I don’t need folk tales.”

“Maybe not. But it helps to have something warm while we plan how to not die.”

Joel took the cup with a grunt. He sipped. Scalding. Bitter. But grounding.

“They’ll come again,” he muttered. “But not here. They’re not after the North. Not really.”

Lynk leaned against the wall beside him. “You think the cabin’s next?”

“I think they’ll hit the places that matter most to us. Not the ones with warriors. The ones we protect.”

A pause. Lynk lowered his voice. “Then she’s in danger.”

“She’s always been,” Joel said quietly.

Lynk hesitated. “You going to tell her what’s coming?”

Joel shook his head. “She already knows more than she’s saying. I saw it in her eyes before I left. She’s lying to protect me… same as I’m doing to her.”

“You’re both gonna get each other killed.”

Joel set the cup down and stepped toward the central table, where rough maps and scouted markings were laid out. “Not if we move first.”

He dragged a claw over the parchment, outlining a crescent shaped ridge southeast of the Hollow. “They tested us here,” he said, pointing to the previous night’s battlefield. “They’ll expect retaliation. Instead, we pull inward. Let them think we’re hiding.”

“And then?” Lynk asked.

“Then we send a whisper.”

Lynk raised a brow. “To who?”

Joel looked up. “To those who still remember Lena’s name.”

A cold silence settled between them. The mention of her name was always heavy.

“She had loyalists still?” Lynk asked, skeptical.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out a medallion… Lena’s crest. A wolf with a crown of thorns, etched in obsidian.

“She made enemies… but she also made believers. Those who knew what she was trying to stop.”

Lynk stared at it. “You said that name would die with her.”

“I thought it had.”

Joel turned the medallion over once, then closed his fist around it. “But they’re trying to resurrect what she gave her life to bury. The Blood Rite isn’t myth. It’s a curse… and they want to awaken it.”

Lynk’s voice was grave. “You think Emerald is part of it?”

Joel closed his eyes for a moment. Her face flashed in his mind… soft, unreadable, marked with fear she wouldn’t name. The symbols. The visions. The petal that refused to burn.

“She’s tied to it,” he said finally. “I just don’t know how.”

Lynk nodded slowly. “Then you’d better figure it out fast. Because if they come for her…”

Joel’s voice was low and final. “They’ll have to come through me.”

A hush fell as the pack stirred behind them. A scout entered from the passage tunnel, dusted in frost. “Alpha,” he called, urgency in his voice. “You’ll want to see this.”

Joel was already moving, Lynk close behind. Outside the Hollow, wind ripped through the trees. But what stood just beyond the ridge wasn’t snow or wind.

It was a symbol. Burned into the ice with dark ash… no torch could’ve made it. A perfect circle, surrounded by four clawed marks. Ancient. Intentional.

Joel stared at it, jaw tightening. “They were here.”

“They want you to know,” Lynk said.

“No,” Joel corrected. “They want me afraid.”

He bent low, running his fingers across the edge of the mark. It was warm. Still fresh.

Joel stood slowly. “They left this after we arrived.”

“They’re inside the perimeter?” the scout asked, startled.

Joel scanned the trees. “They never left it.”

He turned to Lynk. “Wake the others. No one sleeps. We rotate watches in pairs. I want every scent trail marked, every entry sealed.”

Lynk nodded. “And you?”

“I’m going back.”

Lynk blinked. “To the cabin?”

Joel’s eyes glinted. “If this is about her, I need to know what she’s hiding.”

“Joel… ”

“She’s part of it, Lynk. Somehow. If I wait too long, they’ll use her before I can stop them.”

Lynk didn’t argue. He just watched him go.

By the time Joel reached the base of the northern trail leading home, night had fallen again. Clouds choked the moonlight, and the wind seemed to whisper his name. The forest pulsed with unease. Every branch, every stone, every gust… it all felt watched.

He moved fast, barely leaving footprints behind.

As the trees parted and the cabin came into view, Joel slowed. Something was wrong.

The lights were off. No scent of wood smoke. No sound.

He crept closer, every nerve on edge.

The butler stood outside, face pale, eyes wide.

“Alpha,” he said urgently, voice tight. “She went out earlier today. To the woods behind the cabin.”

Joel’s heart dropped. “Alone?”

“She claimed she just needed air. But… ” he hesitated, eyes flicking to the trees. “I… I couldn’t follow. Something stopped me.”

Joel’s voice darkened. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a place behind the ridge. A garden. It wasn’t there before. But now… something grows there. And I couldn’t step past the boundary.”

Joel didn’t wait to hear more. He vanished into the dark, already running.

Toward the garden.

Toward whatever had finally awakened.