The jagged plateau loomed high above the chasm, its edges jagged and unforgiving. The only path to the summit was narrow and treacherous, carved into the cliffs by centuries of wind and rain. Crimson Fang’s warriors lay hidden among the rocks, their dark fur blending with the shadows, their eyes sharp as they watched the stand-off unfold.
Draven stood at the center of the plateau, his black cloak billowing in the biting wind. His amber eyes burned with a fierce resolve, fixed on the two figures emerging from the shadows at the other end of the plateau. Isla walked slowly, her silver hair shimmering in the faint moonlight. Her movements were unsteady, her shoulders hunched under the weight of the suppressing relic glowing faintly at her throat. Beside her, Malrik moved with a twisted kind of grace, his gaunt frame swaying slightly in the wind.
“Brother,” Malrik called, his voice cutting through the icy air like a blade. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic. Look at this place—desolate, windswept, dangerous. Fitting, don’t you think?”
Draven didn’t reply, his gaze flicking briefly to Isla. Her silver eyes met his for a fleeting moment, a glimmer of defiance and desperation shining within them.
Malrik caught the glance and smirked, his thin lips curling with amusement. “Ah, how touching. The Alpha comes to save his Luna.” He turned his head slightly, speaking as though to Isla. “See how much he values you? He’s even brought my prize. Haven’t you, Draven?”
Draven’s growl rumbled low in his chest, his fists clenched at his sides. “Release her,” he said, his voice like thunder rolling over the cliffs. “Now.”
Malrik tilted his head, his sickly features alight with mockery. “And give up my leverage? Oh, no, dear brother. That’s not how this works.” He gestured toward the satchel slung over Draven’s shoulder. “The Moon Amulet first. Then we’ll discuss… terms.”
Draven took a step forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the rocky ground. “You think I’d trust you to keep your word?” he said, his tone sharp and cutting. “Release her now, or this ends here.”
Malrik chuckled, a hollow sound that seemed to echo off the cliffs. “Trust? From the brother who stole my birthright?” His gray eyes gleamed with malice. “No, Draven. You’ll hand over the amulet, or you’ll never see your precious Luna alive again.”
Isla’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she tried to lift them to the relic at her throat. The suppressing energy hummed louder, a sharp vibration that seemed to resonate with her very bones.
“Draven,” she said, her voice weak but steady, “don’t do it. He’s lying—he’ll kill us both.”
Malrik glanced at her, his smirk widening. “So distrustful, even now. It’s almost as if you don’t appreciate the effort I’ve gone to on your behalf, Isla.”
Draven pulled the satchel from his shoulder, his every movement deliberate and controlled. He held it aloft, the faint glow of the amulet seeping through the worn leather. “This is what you want?” he said, his voice a dangerous growl. “Then take it.”
With a sudden, forceful motion, he flung the satchel into the air.
