The Rise of the Shadow Wolves
The darkened chambers of the Obsidian Howl stronghold pulsed with an unnatural energy. Seraphine stood at the center of an ancient ritual circle etched into the stone floor, her crescent mark glowing as she chanted in a language long forgotten. Around her knelt a dozen wolves, their expressions blank, their bodies trembling as they awaited their transformation.
Tobias leaned against the doorway, his imposing frame silhouetted against the flickering torchlight. His sharp eyes tracked Seraphine’s every move, his tone laced with suspicion. “You’re playing with forces you barely understand,” he growled. “If this fails—”
“It won’t,” Seraphine interrupted, her voice smooth and unwavering. She met his gaze, her lips curling into a faint smirk. “You wanted a weapon, Tobias. I’m giving you an army.”
The ritual reached its climax as Seraphine slit her palm, letting her blood drip into a smoking cauldron at the circle’s center. Dark tendrils of magic erupted, snaking their way into the wolves. They screamed as their bodies convulsed, their fur darkening to an almost obsidian hue. When the transformation was complete, their eyes glowed with an eerie, malevolent light.
Seraphine approached one of the newly created shadow wolves, her voice low and commanding. “Kneel.”
The wolf obeyed instantly, its growl low and reverent. Seraphine’s smile widened, her satisfaction clear. Tobias stepped closer, his unease poorly hidden. “They’re strong,” he admitted, his tone begrudging. “But they’re unstable.”
“That’s what makes them perfect,” Seraphine replied, her voice dripping with confidence. “They don’t think. They act. They obey.”
***
Meanwhile, back at Crimson Fang, Isla sat in meditation beneath the full moon. Her silver hair glowed faintly as she sought solace in her connection to the Moon Goddess. But peace eluded her. Instead, she was struck by a vision—one that sent her reeling.
Flashes of Seraphine conducting her dark rituals burned behind her closed eyes, followed by images of shadow wolves turning on their creator, tearing through packs with unchecked ferocity. In the final moments of the vision, Seraphine stood triumphant, a crown of blood resting atop her head, her crescent mark glowing brighter than ever.
Isla gasped, snapping out of the vision. Her breathing was ragged, her hands trembling as she pressed them against the cool ground. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to find Draven.
She found him in the war room, his amber eyes scanning reports of rogue movements. “Draven,” she said urgently, gripping his arm.
He turned to her, his expression softening briefly before concern took over. “What’s wrong?”
“She’ll betray Tobias,” Isla said, her voice trembling but resolute. “She’s planning to take control. We need to prepare for her.”
Draven shook his head, his expression grim. “Tobias is too powerful for her to manipulate like that. Whatever you saw, it’s not something she can pull off.”
Isla stepped closer, her silver eyes locking onto his. “You underestimate her,” she whispered, her voice a warning. “That will be your mistake, not mine.”
