Chapter 3: The Last Stand Begins
Suddenly, shouts and chaos erupted outside, followed by the wolves’ cries of alarm.
The peace shattered.
Replaced by panic and fear. I heard paws scrabbling on stone, the sharp bark of orders, the distant clang of weapons.
The silver-furred wolf who brought me here rushed in, panicked.
He skidded to a halt, eyes wide, chest heaving. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know.
"It’s bad! The night sentinels are here! Leading them is… it’s Nash, the Third Prince!"
His voice cracked, the name sending a ripple of fear through the room. The others exchanged worried glances.
The old wounds of battle reopening.
The old wolves immediately fell into panic.
They scrambled for weapons, for cover, for each other. The den was a flurry of movement, fear thick in the air.
Old Gray struggled to stand. "Alpha, you must go! Your memory isn’t fully restored—you can’t beat them now!"
His voice was urgent, desperate. He reached for me, his grip trembling. I shook my head, resolve hardening in my chest.
I steadied his frail body.
Three thousand years of fury blazing in my chest.
"No. This time, I won’t run."
The words were a promise—to my pack, to myself, to the world that had suffered too long. I felt the old power settle around me, a mantle I was finally ready to wear again.
I donned the Crown of Silver Feathers, the Crescent Rod in my hand lengthening instantly. "I’ll show them—the Alpha of the Night is back."
I was home.
And I was ready to fight.













