Chapter 122 — Through the Maw

Chapter 122 — Through the Maw
The courtyard was behind them now—abandoned to ash, fire, and ruin. The tower loomed ahead, its blackened stone walls scorched from spellfire, its gates splintered and broken beneath the weight of his charge.

Caius, still in his wolf form, charged through the shattered entrance, his massive paws thundering over blood-slicked stone. His eyes glowed with molten silver as he led the pack through the threshold, the air thick with smoke and blood and old magic.

The first floor was a choke point—narrow corridors, layered traps, hexed stone glyphs that exploded on impact. Two of his wolves were hit instantly—one blasted backward in a flash of blue fire, the other frozen in place mid-shift.

“Flank wide!” Caius’s voice echoed in their minds, carried through the pack bond like lightning. “Split the pressure. Let them collapse inward.”

Kalen’s wolf form darted beside him, snarling, as they took opposite sides of the hall. A flash of silver shot past—a blade hurled by a warded guard—but Caius ducked low, pounced, and tore through the man with a single swipe of his claws.

More followed.

A dozen warriors, all layered in anti-bond enchantments, filled the central hall. Spells screamed through the air. One clipped Caius’s flank, searing fur and flesh, but he didn’t slow.

“Back wall!” Kalen barked. “That shield line’s cracking!”

“Push!”

Caius and three wolves rammed it at once, breaking the warded defenders’ position. Two dropped their weapons and fled—cowards. The rest fought to the death. And still the pack surged forward.

Screams echoed through the tower. Dust fell from the rafters. Every step they took toward the stairs was met with resistance. Archer nests. Spellcasters. Booby-trapped runes carved into the stone.

One wolf caught a chain lash of enchanted iron and hit the wall with a crunch. Another lunged for a caster only to be swallowed by a pit trap that opened beneath the stone. They were bleeding, breaking—but they were still moving.

“We’re close,” Caius growled, pacing in a circle as his wolves regrouped. “She’s above us. I can feel her.”

“We’ve got maybe a minute before they regroup,” Kalen said, panting. “Second floor’s a funnel. If they collapse the stair behind us—”

“They won’t.”

Caius shifted back, skin slick with sweat and blood, breath heavy. His jaw was tight, his hands trembling—not from weakness, but from the restraint it took not to tear through stone itself.

He turned to the remaining wolves. “Bring the two strongest with me. The rest clear the stair and lock it down. No one follows. No one flees.”

“Yes, my king.”

The pack howled their assent and split off, bodies disappearing into smoke and shadow. Caius gripped Kalen’s arm as they ascended together, flanked by two massive wolves who snarled with shared fury.

The stairwell was narrow and steep, the walls lined with blood glyphs and explosive sigils. One pulsed just ahead—triggered by pressure.

“Wait,” Caius hissed.

Kalen stilled. Caius closed his eyes, pressing his palm to the stone. The bond burned through him, and the glyph dimmed. A small surrender. Her magic, answering his.

“She’s trying to help us,” he said, stunned. “She’s weakening the traps.”

They moved again, faster now. Halfway up the stair, the wall to their left exploded outward, and a squad of Alder’s remaining elite lunged through the dust—swords drawn, eyes wild.

“Down!”

Caius shifted again mid-motion, claws and fangs replacing bone and muscle in a flash. He collided with the first guard and ripped through his chest with a roar.

One of the wolves behind him was struck with a warded spear—he yelped and fell, convulsing. The other tackled a mage to the ground and tore her throat out.

Kalen slammed his shoulder into a defender, driving him backward and smashing his skull against the stone.

“More coming from the landing!” Kalen shouted.

“I’ve got them!” Caius snarled.

He leapt forward, a blur of black fury. The narrow stairwell became a killing field. He moved like death incarnate—fast, brutal, relentless. Magic lashed against him, blades struck his hide, but nothing stopped him.

He was the storm.

And he was almost there.

The moment the last soldier fell, Caius shifted again, panting, blood running down his arms and back. He looked up the stairs.

Only one door remained.

He felt her.

Cass.

She was right there.

“I need thirty seconds,” he said to Kalen. “Guard the stair. Kill anything that follows.”

Kalen nodded, breathless. “Go. Go to her.”

Caius walked the last steps alone.

The door wasn’t locked. Wasn’t even warded. She had seen to that.

He pushed it open—and the bond flared so violently through his chest he nearly dropped to his knees.

Cass stood in the center of the room, pale and trembling, but fierce. Her eyes locked on his, wide and full of something unspoken.

“Caius,” she breathed.

He crossed the room in three strides—only to freeze.

Alder stepped from the shadows behind her, his arm locked tight around Cass’s torso, a bloodstained dagger pressed against the soft skin of her throat.

“Not another step,” Alder hissed, eyes wild. “One more and I’ll slit her open before your bond can even scream.”

Cass didn’t move. Her eyes were wide, terrified—but defiant.

Caius’s claws flexed at his sides, his voice a growl. “Let her go, Alder.”

“She was mine first,” Alder spat, his voice cracking with rage and heartbreak. “You don’t get to come here, raze everything, and take her like it’s your right.”

“She was never yours,” Caius snarled.

Alder’s grip tightened. Cass gasped.

“Don’t,” Caius said, voice like ice. “You harm her, and I’ll make you wish you’d died in the courtyard.”