Chapter 6 In the Trace of Something Foreign
Magnus's POV
My steps echoed through the long stone hallway, blending with the scent of old wood and slow-burning torch oil. Nights in my castle were always quiet after the guard shift, yet tonight… something felt off. Not seen, not heard, but tugging at the edge of my instincts.
Two sets of footsteps joined mine from behind.
Dareth Varr, my Beta, walked on my right—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, always noticing what others missed. Lorian Reed, my Gamma, stayed on my left—elegant, meticulous, like a scholar forged in war.
“I still don’t understand,” Lorian began calmly, “why you bought that from the auction. She’s wolfless, no blood records, no power. She’s not even as pretty as your ex, Freya.”
“Thing,” Dareth muttered. “If what I saw earlier is a ‘thing,’ then the world’s changing faster than I thought.”
“That’s what the Hidden Circle called her,” Lorian shot back.
I didn’t respond. They were baiting me on purpose. They knew I never brought useless creatures into my territory—much less into a place full of secrets.
And honestly… I didn’t know why I did it either. Why I obeyed what my wolf told me.
“You two talk too much,” I said flatly.
Lorian smiled. “So, you’re not denying it.”
“Or he doesn’t want us to know the reason,” Dareth added.
I ignored both of them, though my mind drifted back to Evra—the girl with night-calm eyes and an empty aura… except it wasn’t truly empty. Something was sleeping under her skin. When I touched her at the auction, my wolf stirred.
Not violently. Not aggressively. He woke up.
And that was far worse.
Dareth matched my pace. “About the Imperial Bank report,” he continued, “the director sent an update. There’s movement from three border territories. Too fast for normal transactions. Could be laundering.”
“I thought the same.” My voice stayed calm. “I’ll check it.”
“Should I send an investigation team tonight?”
I shook my head. “Wait till morning. I don’t want suspicious activity before I finish checking—”
I stopped. Hard. Both of them nearly collided with me.
My blood froze—not from fear, but because my wolf, Varon, lifted his head inside me. Not slowly. Not gently.
Like he’d been startled awake.
‘Something. Something not from our world.’
I inhaled sharply.
Yes. I smelled it.
Thin. Faint. But cutting.
Lorian stiffened too, pupils narrowing. “Wait…” he whispered.
Dareth’s shoulders tensed, a low growl rumbling. “Magnus… you smell it too?”
I smelled it long before they did.
An ancient scent.
Not wolf. Not human. Not vampire. Not demon.
Something crackled in the air—like wet earth struck by lightning, hot metal, and… old magic.
Witch-blood.
No. Older than that. Deeper.
As if something forced into slumber for centuries was trying to rise again.
“It’s not anyone from our territory,” Dareth muttered.
“It’s coming from… the guest room,” Lorian whispered.
I didn’t wait.
My steps turned sharp, fast. They followed without being told.
The closer we got, the stronger it grew. Their wolves reacted. Varon roared inside me.
“Wake up. Something is waking up. In the guest room. In Evra’s room!”
I held Varon back—shifting now would destroy this entire wing.
One more step.
The energy hit me—hot and cold at the same time.
I shoved the door open.
Evra lay on the floor near the fireplace, hair scattered across the stone. The fire flickered weakly compared to the glow seeping from her—her aura, faint, like a thin mist pulsing red.
Not wolf-red. Another red. Older. Heavier.
“Witch-blood—no, this is beyond that,” Dareth muttered.
Lorian kneeled, not daring to touch her. “Lord… what kind of creature did you bring home?”
I didn’t answer.
I was already kneeling beside her, lifting her so her head wasn’t against the cold floor. My fingers touched her skin.
Cold.
Not fainting-cold. The kind of cold left behind by wandering witch souls.
“Evra,” I called softly. “Evra, hear me.”
No response. But her lips moved—barely.
I leaned closer.
Her whisper hit me like shattering glass.
“…blood… bound… guardian… the gate… waking…” Her breathing shook, sweat dripping down her forehead. “…he’s… waiting…”
“What is she saying?” Dareth asked. Varon clawed inside my mind.
“THAT’S NOT WOLF TONGUE. IT’S ANCIENT. TOO ANCIENT,” Varon snarled.
“Magnus, we need to—” Dareth started.
“Something’s calling her,” Lorian whispered, horrified. “This isn’t modern witch magic. This is from before recorded history.”
I held Evra’s face gently. “Evra, open your eyes.”
Her lips moved again. “…not… this world…”
My heart stopped for a beat. Lorian stumbled back. Dareth grabbed his blade.
“Magnus… she’s saying something impossible.”
“Check the perimeter,” I ordered. “No one in or out.”
Dareth nodded and left immediately.
“Lorian.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Track every energy shift. Don’t touch her.”
He opened his scroll quickly.
I looked back at Evra.
“I’m here,” I whispered. “Hear me. I’m here.”
Her body trembled. Her final whisper crawled straight under my skin.
“…Magnus…”
I froze.
She wasn’t conscious. She couldn’t see me. She didn’t know what she said.
Yet she called my name—In the ancient tongue.
Varon reacted like something primal had just been awakened inside us.
I held her tighter, keeping my expression hard.
“Guard the door,” I ordered. “No one enters.”
Silence settled outside.
Only Evra’s ragged breathing, the fading red glow… and one truth cutting into my chest:
Evra wasn’t just wolfless. Not just an auction item.
There was something inside her. Something ancient. Something dangerous. Something that was calling to me.
And the most terrifying part… I was calling back.