Chapter 88 — The Enemy Within

Chapter 88 — The Enemy Within
Varian’s nostrils flared, fury and suspicion clashing in his gaze. “So it is the North’s shame unleashed upon us.”

Coletta bristled, claws flashing. “Do not twist this into politics! Thorne betrayed us all, not just the North. He escaped because someone aided him — and if your soldier is any proof, the South is not blameless!”

Damien stepped between them, voice thunder. “Enough! Wolves at each other’s throats is exactly what he wants. When are you two going to stop? This ends here!”

The shard pulsed violently, as though responding to the clash of voices. The chest cracked, spilling silver light across the waves. For a moment, every wolf instinct screamed with desire — to seize it, to claim it, to make it theirs.

Coletta dug claws into the deck to resist the pull. Damien’s Alpha aura lashed like chains, steadying their side. Priest Maeron collapsed to one knee, blood dripping from his nose as he forced the runes to hold the shard’s energy back from consuming them all.

“Hold fast!” he gasped. “If the shard chooses no master here, it will drown itself in the sea rather than be taken by unworthy hands!”

The traitor soldier lunged for the chest — but Seren intercepted, blades plunging into his side. He howled, the sound part human, part monstrous. His body twisted, bones snapping, as though another presence was trying to break free of his flesh.

Damien seized the moment, leaping forward. His claws slashed through the straps, ripping the chest free. Coletta and Seren lunged to cover him as arrows and magic rained from all sides. The shard’s light flared, threatening to blind them — and then, with a violent tug, the entire chest was yanked beneath the waves, swallowed by the sea itself.

Silence. Then only the sound of water slapping against hulls.

The traitor collapsed lifeless to the deck, his body warped, his eyes glazed with salt-white foam.

The shard was gone.

Coletta staggered forward, her wolf chest heaving with frustration. “No… it was right there—”

Priest Maeron rose unsteadily, his voice hoarse but resolute. “It has not vanished. It retreats. Tested us… and found us wanting.”

Varian’s jaw clenched, eyes burning into Coletta and Damien. “Or it retreats because one of you seeks to corrupt it. Thorne’s name did not fall by accident. Someone here knows more than they admit.”

Damien bared his fangs, his growl vibrating the planks. “Careful, Southron king. My patience is not infinite.”

Coletta stepped forward, every hair on her body bristling, her wolf growl barely restrained. “Accuse us again, and you’ll see how quickly North and South bleed each other instead of hunting the true enemy.”

The crews stared in tense silence, every bow, claw, and spell ready.

Only Maeron broke the stillness, his voice soft but unyielding. “The shard is not lost. It waits. But it waits where the sea is darkest… and where serpents coil. If we do not learn to stand as one, it will be claimed by those who thrive in shadow.”

The waves rocked both ships, the shard’s pulse fading into the deep. Coletta stared at the black water, her wolf instincts aching with frustration and warning.

The hunt was not over. It had only grown more perilous.

The sea lay deceptively calm, a sheet of silver under the pale pull of the moon. Yet the air above the ships buzzed with unease, sharp as static before lightning. Wolves paced the decks in restless half-shifts — claws scraping wood, ears flicking to phantom sounds, teeth flashing at shadows. The shard’s pulse had ebbed after the clash at the cove, but its echo remained, threading through every instinct, reminding them all that danger still pressed close.

Coletta gripped the rail of the prow, her wolf eyes gleaming faint gold. Every inhale tasted of salt, tar, and something else—sour, wrong. Betrayal left a scent, and though faint, she caught the trace even here, among her supposed allies. Her wolf bristled, fur rising along her arms as though her body refused to let her relax.

Damien stood at her shoulder, silent, scanning the horizon where the black outline of cliffs was fading into the night haze. His Alpha aura pressed steady waves over the crew, yet even that weight could not fully quiet the stirrings of suspicion.

Varian had withdrawn to his own deck, but his presence was felt like a looming stormcloud. Coletta had seen the way his jaw tightened, his eyes shadowed—not just with anger at the North, but with something darker. He suspected betrayal close to himself.

The Southern king’s voice cut across the distance between the ships, measured and deliberate. “My council has been compromised before. I will not dismiss the possibility again.” His gaze swept the crews, halting on Hale, then on Priest Maeron, and back across Damien’s vessel. “If the shard’s theft had allies in the South, I will uncover them. That is not a promise—it is a law.”

Murmurs rippled among his men. Hale stiffened but held his king’s words without flinch, eyes hard as iron.

Coletta’s wolf bristled at once. This was new. Varian questioning his own house? Her nostrils flared, trying to sift through the muddied scents. A hidden trail lay here, but it was masked—deliberately blurred.

Damien leaned on the rail, his voice calm but edged. “Then suspicion runs both ways. We know Thorne Blackwood and his rogues struck from the shadows. If they reached to your council, Varian, then they reach further than any of us want to admit.”

Varian’s eyes narrowed at the name, but he gave no denial.

Priest Maeron stirred from his quiet vigil at the ritual dais. The salt runes he had carved into the planks still glimmered faintly, wet with seawater and ash. His eyes, pale silver, fixed on the space between the ships as though he saw through the waves themselves. “There is more,” he said softly, his voice carrying despite the whisper of the wind. “The shard is not merely sought—it is being pulled. Its power does not drift freely. It is tethered to a conduit, a living host.”

Coletta’s heart dropped. Her wolf snarled inside her chest. “You mean someone among us—”

“Yes,” Maeron said, his tone heavy with certainty. “One who carries a mark. They may not even know it. The shard’s pulse answers to them, allowing the enemy to track us, step for step.”

A chill passed through the crew like a cold wind. Instincts flared—wolves baring teeth, hackles rising. Eyes darted from comrade to comrade.

“Then we are hunted not just from without,” Hale said grimly. His hand tightened on his bow. “We are hunted from within.”

Damien stepped forward sharply, voice slicing through the rising panic. “Enough. Wolves do not tear their own throats at shadows. If the enemy has marked someone, we will uncover it. Until then, no one lifts a blade at an ally unless I command it.” His Alpha aura surged like a storm, pressing obedience into the marrow of every wolf present.

But even Alpha command could not erase the doubt crawling in every heart. Coletta could feel it—suspicion was poison, and it had already seeped into the pack.