The chief commander, Philus and his assistant, Zurix strode through the dimly lit corridors of the silverveil palace, their boots striking the stone floors with measured purpose. Behind them, the few elite men of the Royal Pack of Hades followed in disciplined silence, their faces unreadable but their eyes filled with expectation. The air was full with the scent of lingering smoke from torches and the remnants of the night's celebration, now long past.
As they emerged into the cool night, the barracks loomed ahead, its courtyard filled with the rest of the warriors awaiting orders. Their postures were tense, their hands gripping the hilts of their swords and the shafts of their spears. They had been waiting.
The moment Philus and Zurix approached, the murmurs ceased. Dozens of hardened warriors turned their eyes to them, awaiting to hear the Alpha's command. Philus stepped forward, his broad shoulders squared, his voice ringing clear in the night air.
"Men of Silverveil," he called, "we shall fortify our defenses. Whatever evil dares lurks out there in the shadows, we shall meet it with our swords."
A deafening roar erupted from the gathered warriors. They raised their weapons high, their blades glinting under the moon's glow. The sound echoed through the stone walls of the palace, a testament to their readiness.
Philus nodded once, his gaze meeting Zurix's. Understanding the unspoken cue, Zurix stepped forward, his voice powerful as it carried across the courtyard.
"Divide yourselves into groups of five! A quarter of you shall follow the Chief Commander. Another quarter shall go with Homa. Another with Dean. The rest, man the barracks and guard the palace!"
"Yes, Commander!" the warriors thundered in unison, their movements immediate as they split into their assigned groups.
Darkota, one of the seasoned warriors among the rogues, followed Philus. As the Chief Commander's chosen men, they stationed themselves strategically around the palace and its surroundings, their keen eyes scanning the tree line and every shadow that shifted in the night.
No one spoke as they moved. The silence was a pact, an understanding that whatever lurked in the darkness would find them prepared.
Within the warmth of the royal chambers, Luna Jamayah lay beside Alpha Lucian. The deep, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest told her he was in peaceful slumber. Yet, she could not sleep. Her eyes traced the wooden beams above their bed, but her mind was elsewhere. Something was coming. Something unseen, something vile.
Then, without warning, she gasped. Her body went rigid, and her eyes rolled back, leaving only white. She was in a trance.
In the spirit realm, she found herself within the body of a raven, perched on the edge of their chamber's balcony. The wind tugged at her feathers as she stretched her wings and took flight, soaring high over the palace grounds.
The world looked different in this form, colors dulled, movements sharpened. The rustling of leaves, the distant hush of the wind, the shifting of shadows beneath the trees, it all sang a silent warning. She felt it. The evil presence. It slithered through the darkness of the woods, concealed beneath the thick canopy. But she could feel it watching.
Perching on a low-hanging branch, she cawed.
The presence stirred. She cawed again, softer this time, as if daring it to reveal itself, And then, a blur of motion. A shadow darker than the night itself. It lunged. A flash of jagged teeth. A whisper of something ancient and wrong. Jamayah screamed, and her spirit was violently yanked back into her body.
She jolted upright, her heart pounding, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Lucian woke with a start, his arms instinctively wrapping around her as he pulled her close.
"You're safe now," he murmured against her hair.
"You're with me."
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, forcing herself to steady her breathing. When she finally spoke, her voice was laced with urgency.
"It's in the woods, Lucian," she whispered.
"I saw it. It was there. And it attacked me."
Lucian's expression hardened.
"The lycans?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know. It was too fast. The woods were dark, and before I could make out its figure, I was pulled from the vision."
Lucian exhaled slowly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before sitting up. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, his movements deliberate. Jamayah caught his sleeve.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice barely above a breath.
"I must go into the woods," he said.
"I need to see for myself."
She tightened her grip.
"Don't. Please, stay. Your men are out there. If there is something to be seen, they will see it."
Lucian hesitated, his instincts warring with reason. But as he looked down at his wife, the High Priestess, the woman who had just seen the darkness firsthand, he slowly eased back into bed.
She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his presence grounded her, but she knew that whatever evil lurked beyond the palace walls, it was only just beginning to reveal itself. Luna Jamayah drifted back into sleep. But Lucian did not.
He remained awake, his mind restless, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he listened to the silence beyond their chambers. When the first rays of dawn began to creep into the sky, he finally moved. Slipping from the bed, he dressed in quiet efficiency. The moment his boots touched the cold stone floor, Jamayah stirred.
She blinked sleepily, her voice soft.
"Good morning, dearest."
Lucian turned to her, offering a small smile.
"Good morning, beloved. I shall go see if the men have anything to report."
She nodded, watching as he fastened his belt and reached for his sword. As he stepped out of the room, Luna Jamayah closed her eyes once more, but the sense of foreboding remained. Something was coming,
And it would not be easily stopped.