Chapter 61 When the Pack Howls
Nightfang burned long into the morning.
Smoke curled into the pale sky like mourning veils, drifting above collapsed roofs and shattered stone. Embers still glowed in the cracks where homes once stood. The air tasted of ash, grief, and something heavier. A silence so thick it felt like a weight on every heartbeat.
Amanda forced herself to breathe through it.
She knelt beside a wounded warrior, pressing her glowing hands against a gash along his ribs. The man trembled as her power sank into torn flesh, knitting muscle and sealing blood. Her birthmark burned with dull, steady heat. She had been working without pause since dawn.
"Next," she whispered.
Clarissa was already there. Her face streaked with soot and dried tears. She pushed another wounded man toward Amanda while handing water to those waiting. For once, Clarissa didn't complain. She didn't even flinch at the sight of blood. Her hands were steady, her jaw tight, her eyes bleak.
"This one's losing consciousness," Clarissa said, voice low. "Amanda, you need to rest. You've been healing for hours."
"I will," Amanda lied. "After the next one."
Clarissa didn't push. She just moved aside, gathering herbs for the healers without another word.
All around them, groans and soft cries rose like a broken chorus. Makeshift beds covered the once-proud training yard. Nightfang's warriors lay across them. Some holding onto life by a thread. Others already still beneath blood-spotted sheets. Amanda tried not to look at those.
Derek moved through the ruin like a storm contained only by will. His voice carried sharp orders. Rebuild the gates. Reposition the guards. Reinforce the northern wall. Prepare scouting teams. Grief carved tight lines into his face, but he didn't show weakness. He couldn't. Not when the entire pack needed a spine to lean on.
Whenever he passed Amanda, he paused for a heartbeat. Just long enough to check she was still breathing. Before he pushed on.
Nightfang had lost a quarter of its fighters.
A quarter.
The number sat like a stone in Amanda's chest, pressing down harder every time she met the empty eyes of the fallen.
By midday, the fires were under control. But the flames inside the people burned on. Rage, despair, exhaustion. The pack gathered in the courtyard for the funeral.
The sky had turned gray, as if even the heavens mourned with them.
Rows of bodies were laid out on raised wooden platforms, covered in white cloth. Warriors. Scouts. Elders. And Beatrice.
Amanda stood beside Derek at the front. Victor hovered near Beatrice's shrouded form, shoulders bowed, face hollow. He held one of her scarves in his hand, fingers trembling around the soft fabric.
Cassius and Zara flanked Derek. Riley and Owen stood close, battered but unbroken. The entire pack formed a ring around the dead. One last protection they could offer.
Derek stepped forward first.
His voice was raw but steady. "Nightfang has suffered today. We lost family. Friends. Protectors." He swallowed once. "But we honor them by remembering what they died for. Our home. Our future."
He bowed his head. The pack followed.
Then he stepped back, giving Amanda a small nod.
Her throat tightened as she walked to Beatrice's side. The cloth covering the woman's face was folded neatly, revealing her peaceful expression. Someone had washed away the soot from her hair. And woven a sprig of rosemary into it.
Amanda's knees weakened for a moment.
"She was the first person to show me kindness in this pack," Amanda began, her voice trembling. "When I arrived, I felt like an unwanted shadow. She sat with me when no one else would. She listened. She reminded me I wasn't alone. And she told me Derek would come around long before I ever believed it myself."
A faint smile brushed her lips, sad and soft.
"I won't let her death be meaningless," she said. "I won't let any of them die in vain."
A single tear slid down her cheek. Derek reached for her hand. Just briefly. But his touch steadied her enough to finish.
They set the platforms alight.
The flames rose in careful ceremony, licking upward with bright gold. Sparks drifted toward the sky like tiny souls carried by the wind. The pack watched in silence until the last flames bowed low and turned to embers.
Nightfang howled.
A long, grief-struck sound that echoed off the mountains and trembled through Amanda's bones.
Later, in the battered remains of the hall, murmurs circled like restless ghosts. Some spoke of fleeing. Others whispered of surrender. Many questioned how they could survive another attack.
"We can't win against that," someone said.
"They knew our defenses," another muttered. "They took the prophecy. They know everything."
"What if Nightfang falls just like Emberfang?"
Voices rose, sharp and fearful.
Amanda felt Derek's energy shift beside her, like a storm gathering force. She looked up as he stepped forward, his expression carved with a cold, blazing certainty she hadn't seen before.
Derek raised his voice. Not shouting, but carrying enough power to quiet the room.
"I won't lie to you. The darkness is strong. It has wiped out packs far bigger than ours. It has magic older than any of us."
Silence settled heavy.
"But hear me well," Derek continued, sweeping his gaze across his people. "The darkness fears us. Why else would it go to such lengths? Why burn our home? Why take our prophecy? Why attack when I was away?"
His voice deepened, his wolf thrumming behind every word.
"Because we are the threat standing between the Nightbringer and the destruction of everything we love."
The crowd shifted. Eyes lifted. Backs straightened.
"So I ask you. Will you run? Will you abandon your brothers and sisters? Your children? Your future? Will you let them decide our fate?"
The silence pulsed.
"Or," Derek said, voice fierce, "will you fight? Will you stand with me? Will you defend the future your children deserve?"
A breathless pause.
Then one voice howled.
Another joined. And another.
The courtyard erupted into a wild, defiant chorus.
Their grief hadn't vanished. Their fear hadn't gone. But now they had something else. Resolve. Strength. The spark of a pack that refused to break.
Amanda watched Derek, pride swelling in her chest. She saw in him the Alpha his mother had always believed he would be. Not just strong, but inspiring.
A leader reborn.
As the pack dispersed, Amanda helped Clarissa gather herbs for those still injured. She didn't expect someone to approach from the shadows until a voice spoke behind her.
"Amanda Kingswell."
Both she and Clarissa spun around.
Elias Hale stood at the entrance of the ruined hall. Clothes torn. Face bruised. Eyes hollow.
Gasps rippled through the courtyard. Several warriors reached instinctively for their weapons. The air shifted, tightening like a snare pulled taut.
Derek appeared in an instant, stepping in front of Amanda as if drawn by instinct. Cassius and Riley moved to flank him, tension sharp and immediate.
Elias raised both hands. "I'm not here to fight."
"Good," Derek said, voice cold. "Because you wouldn't make it ten steps if you tried."
Elias swallowed. "I came to ask for asylum. I've seen what the Nightbringer does to its own followers. It consumes them. It doesn't reward loyalty. It devours it." His voice cracked. "I don't want to die like that."
Cassius scoffed. "And we're supposed to trust you?"
"You shouldn't," Elias answered instantly. "But you need fighters. You need people who know how the Nightbringer moves. I can help you."
Derek's eyes narrowed. "And what do you want in return?"
"Redemption," Elias whispered. "A chance to make things right."
Amanda stepped beside Derek before he could answer. "We can't afford to turn away help," she said softly. "If he betrays us, we'll know. But right now, every fighter counts."
Derek's jaw worked. He glanced at her. His gaze settled on her with a weight he didn't bother to hide. And something unspoken passed between them.
Finally he nodded once. "You'll be watched night and day. You step out of line, I end it myself."
Elias bowed his head. "Understood."
Evening fell heavy with exhaustion. The pack tried to salvage what was left of their homes. Amanda washed soot from her hands, trying to steady her breath.
She was heading toward the infirmary with Derek when Moira strode out of her cottage. Her eyes were too wide, her braid undone, her steps unsteady as though she'd run through visions instead of dreams.
"Amanda. Derek. Come."
Her voice cracked like breaking ice.
They followed her inside.
Candles shivered although no wind touched them. Runes glowed faintly on the floor, pulsing in frantic warning. Moira's hands shook as she held a parchment streaked with ash.
"I had a vision," she said. "A powerful one. The clearest I've had in years."
Derek tensed. "What did you see?"
Moira's gaze lifted, heavy with dread.
"There's a way to stop the Nightbringer permanently. To destroy him. But it requires something nearly impossible."
The room stilled.
"We must remake the ancient seal," she said softly. "And to do that, we need three elements. The power of an Alpha reborn by prophecy." Her eyes flicked to Derek. "A curse-breaker of the lost bloodline." Amanda's stomach dipped. "And the willing sacrifice of a corrupted soul seeking redemption."
The words thundered into the room.
Amanda's breath caught.
There was only one person they had who fit that description.
Elias Hale.
The name hovered unsaid, heavy and obvious.
Moira saw it in their faces.
And she shook her head.
"No," she whispered. "Not him."
Derek's brows drew together. "What?"
Moira swallowed hard. Her knuckles whitened around the parchment.
"The vision showed a different soul," she said. "One steeped in shadows. One who has already walked the path of corruption and still carries a fragment of light."
Amanda felt the chill before Moira spoke the name.
"Silas," Moira said. "It has to be Silas."
Silence clamped over the room.