When the Council adjourned, the echoes of their voices still clung to the walls - soft, decaying, like the last notes of a requiem.
Dew lingered until the chamber was empty.
Silence had always been his true ally. In it, he didn't need to pretend.
He walked toward the dais where the Council seal shimmered faintly - the sigil of unity. With one bare fingertip, he traced it, and the gold light beneath his skin pulsed faintly red.
The pulse of something tut not entirely his own.
He closed his eyes.
The chamber darkened. Shadows began to crawl from the corners - thick, oily tendrils that shimmered with heat though no fire burned. They slithered across the floor, drawn to him, hungry.
"You feed on chaos," Dew murmured, voice barely audible. "And I feed on the ruin of love."
The shadows answered in whispers - not words, but sensations. Like breath against the back of the neck. Like the shiver before a scream.
He extended his hand, and the air split - a small rift bleeding black smoke.
Within it, a faint figure stirred. The Summoner. A cloaked acolyte bound by invisible chains, body thin and shaking, veins pulsing with molten red. The Mara's voice had hollowed him out long ago.
"My lord..." The summoner's voice was a rasp, his eyes fever-bright. "It grows restless. The creature hungers for form."
"And it shall have it," Dew said softly, descending the dais. "Soon. The blood is close."
He reached the kneeling figure, touching the man's chin - tender, almost gentle - before pressing his thumb to the summoner's lips. The flesh burned at the contact, smoke rising where skin met skin.
"One drop," Dew whispered. "That's all the Mara needs. The Guardian's blood - pure light, untainted. The final key."
The summoner trembled.
"And when it awakens...?"
Dew's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Then the world will remember what the House of Hirunkit tried to bury. Then he will remember what it means to bleed."
The shadows thickened, circling him like smoke given thought.
For a moment, the veneer of elegance fell away - and what stood there was not merely a man. Beneath his skin, something ancient stirred - veins glowing faintly crimson, eyes rimmed with molten gold.
A whisper - Mara - slithered through the chamber, low and almost reverent.
The summoner bowed lower, forehead to the ground.
"The heart of the beast awaits your command, my lord."
Dew's laughter - soft, silken, and wrong - echoed against the stone.
"Let it wait. The blood will come to us soon enough. The Guardian cannot resist the Supreme's call... and the Supreme cannot resist the curse that binds them."
He lifted his hand, and the shadows obeyed, swallowing the chamber whole.
When they receded, Dew was gone - leaving behind only the faint scent of ash and roses, and the lingering echo of something awakening beneath the earth.
---
The first light of dawn bled through the trees, pale and cold against the scar-stained clearing that now served as their fragile base. Smoke still curled from the blackened edges of the forest.
PP's lair sat in the center like a heartbeat of flickering wardlight - a shimmering dome of protection humming in the morning air. Around it, the wolves kept a wide perimeter, silent and watchful, while the vampires stood opposite, dark silhouettes against the light.
The scent of iron and ash lingered between them.
William stood in the open, Gawin and Joss flanking him like sentinels.
Across from him, Alpha Kazen and Alpha Juno waited, both scarred and exhausted, their betas crouched low, teeth half-bared.
Billkin was the only bridge between them - a wolf under the Supreme's command. He paced near the edge of the ward, close enough to sense Sky's fading energy from inside the lair, but far enough to keep the peace.
The atmosphere trembled on a blade's edge.
---
William: "We all want the same thing - to keep the Guardian alive."
Kazen: "Alive, yes. But whose protection is that, vampire? Yours... or the Supreme's?"
A faint, almost weary smile touched William's lips. "Both. They are one and the same."
Juno's voice cut in, sharp as winter. "Forgive us if centuries of war make your words sound like a threat."
Gawin shifted subtly beside William, a ripple of restrained power. Joss's eyes followed every movement from the wolves, muscles coiled.
"Enough posturing," William said softly, but there was steel in his tone. "You know the truth - none of us can move him now. The Guardian's power is unstable. If we travel, we risk drawing every creature within a hundred miles. So we hold here. Until the Supreme recover."
Silence stretched. Only the distant howl of a lone wolf broke it.
Finally, Kazen spoke, his voice lower.
"You're right about one thing, vampire. We stand on the edge of something greater than either of our clans. The Guardian has returned - and with him, the curse."
He took a slow breath, eyes flicking toward the faint glow of the ward.
"But mark my words: if any harm comes to him from your kind, not even the Supreme's name will save you."
William inclined his head, not as submission but as acknowledgment.
"Understood. And if any wolf crosses that ward without permission, I'll consider it an act of war."
The air crackled - a growl answered by a hiss - and for a moment the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then PP's door creaked open, and Felix stepped halfway out, yawning, holding a cup of coffee.
"Would everyone please stop threatening each other before breakfast? I'm trying to keep the curse from killing your bosses."
The tension cracked, if only slightly.
Kazen gave a short, rough laugh. "Witch has courage."
Felix shrugged. "Or no survival instinct. Depends on who you ask."
William's mouth twitched. "He's useful. Don't kill him."
Felix ducked back inside, muttering, "Nice to know where I stand."
---
As dawn climbed higher, they began to form uneasy order: wolves patrolling the outer edge, vampires maintaining the inner ring, PP's wards humming like a heartbeat between. For now, this place - scarred earth and ash-filled air - was their sanctuary.
Then a shadow flickered through the trees.
A cloaked figure slipped silently toward William, landing in a crouch before him. One of his informants - pale skin, red eyes, the faint scent of travel and fear.
He bowed low, voice breathless.
"My lord, I bring word from the Council."
William's eyes narrowed. "Speak."
"They know, my lord. The Council knows the Guardian lives. They're... moving."
Kazen's ears pricked, his wolves growling softly.
"Moving where?" William demanded.
"To the Supreme's territory," the spy whispered. "Dew leads them."
The forest went dead still. Even the birds stopped.
Juno cursed under his breath. Kazen's hands clenched into fists.
William turned slowly toward the rising sun, its light cutting gold through the mist.
"So," he said quietly, "the war begins at dawn."
----
The air inside PP's lair was thick with tension — too many scents and powers crammed under the same ancient roof. Burnt air, old blood, and magic. Outside, the horizon blushed pale with the first light of dawn, washing over the ruins of what used to be forest.
William stood over the long, uneven table that PP had cleared for their planning. His jaw was set, eyes flicking between the wolves and his own men. Kazen and Juno stood across from him — both alphas battered but unbowed, their auras rippling faintly in the tight air. Gawin and Joss flanked William, silent sentinels.
"We can't move them," William said finally. His voice carried the weight of command and fatigue. "The moment we try, the wards will break — and every creature for miles will know where to strike. We hold here."
Kazen's growl rolled low in his throat. "Hold? Half my pack is wounded. The rest can barely shift without bleeding. You want us to die in a house?"
"Better in a house," William countered, eyes narrowing, "than torn apart in the open."
Silence pulsed, heavy and brittle.
Juno exhaled, shoulders taut. "Then we fight here. But not blindly. I'll send runners to my pack — they'll call for reinforcements. It will take time."
"Time," William muttered, "is the one thing we don't have."
Felix entered then, pale from exhaustion, carrying a handful of glowing runes that shimmered faintly blue. "PP's doubling the wards," he announced. "He said the magic's stretching thin — but he'll manage. Sky and the Supreme are safe for now."
He hesitated, voice lowering. "He's still searching... anything to break the curse. Or at least, to buy them more time."
No one answered. They all knew how little "time" meant now.
William's gaze swept over the room — wolves and vampires staring each other down, bound together by a fragile thread called survival. "Most of the vampire clans will side with the Council," he said at last. "They'll follow power — not loyalty."
"So we have none," Kazen said grimly.
William nodded once. "Then we make our stand here."
The wind outside shifted — a cold breath that slid through the cracks of the lair, carrying with it the faintest echo of something vast and wrong, moving closer through the woods.
Everyone went still.
Felix looked toward the darkened horizon. "They're coming."
William's hand drifted to his weapon, the faint pulse of his aura flaring like a heartbeat.
"Then we make sure," he said quietly, "they regret finding us."
The first rays of morning broke across their faces — not warm, but sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade.
And beneath the fragile calm, every soul in the lair knew: dawn would not bring peace.