ECLIPSE
The screams never stopped for once. Even when the night grew quiet; even when the scent of smoke and silver-burned flesh faded; even when she closed her eyes.
The noise still managed to claw through her skull. Rapping and reminding her of her pack, her home, and her blood.
All of it, reduced to ashes and bones.
So she followed the Bloodhound, not because she trusted him, far be it. But because revenge was the only thing left that still felt alive inside her.
He wanted to use her. Even more so the organization he claimed he was from; the Hollow.
She knew it that she should not dare dabble with such people.
They way he had found her…
The way he had known about the wolf that awakened inside her…
The way he spoke Malric NorthSteed's name like a promise rather than a curse…
It all reeked of a conspiracy.
But the thing about vendettas was that it had a way of clouding the most logical part of the mind and replacing it with a senseless, mindless, drive to bring nothing but ruin.
She had already lost everything that made caution meaningful.
If this path led to Malric's throat, she would walk it. Even if it led to her grace.
Ronan walked beside her, weakened, half-poisoned, fury simmering beneath his skin. Neither of them spoke. They were no words left that could touch the ruin in their chests. And when their company finally stopped, announcing that they had arrived, Eclipse frowned.
This… was the Hollow?
The infamous organization—responsible for the deaths of powerful Alphas and figures alike—residence was in fact a fence of bamboo and palm fronds and a gate that looked ready to collapse under a firm shove.
It looked like a place that was lost in time.
The Bloodhound closed his umbrella, baring and exposing the scars that carved into his face. For the first time, she saw him fully—raw, worn, dangerous.
He knocked.
Three slow raps that felt measured and intentional. An old man cracked the gate open, squinting like they had offended his sleep.
"Who are you?" the man snapped.
"The Hollow," the Bloodhound replied.
"I don't know that name," the old man muttered, pushing the gate shut.
"What is Hollow can never break."
The words landed like a key turning in a lock for the old man drew the gates open suddenly, even though he continued grumbling that they were disturbing his sleep.
They stepped inside.
The yard looked ordinary. Dead leaves. Cracked wood. Quiet rot. But the silence felt wrong. Like a mouth forced shut. Not even the birds of the night dared make a sound. And even the crickets seemed to be extinct.
The Bloodhound led them into a basement in the worn out hut. Then deeper, down a winding underground passage lit by a trembling torchlight.
It was minutes of descent.
Thirty minutes of Eclipse fighting the rising nausea in her throat—not from fear, but from the copper-sweet stench that thickened with every step.
Blood.
So much blood.
She couldn't tell which she was perceiving the most; the blood from her family and pack, or the blood that seemed to be etched at every crevice of the path they walked.
When they emerged, it was not into a single building—but a hidden settlement. Narrow alleyways like a pack settlement. Closely packed structures. Windows that reflected torchlight like watching eyes.
The architecture screamed hide and seek, yet it was obvious that the place had been built with delicate care. A stranger infiltrating the place for the first time would lose their way. And their life as well if care was not taken.
At the entrance sat a middle-aged woman in rags, rocking lazily in a chair beside an empty beggar's plate.
Her eyes remained closed.
Yet she spoke the moment they approached.
"Three residents," she murmured. "Two visitors."
Eclipse stiffened at the accuracy. The Bloodhound did not react.
"They will become part of us." He simply grunted in that non-voice of his.
The woman smiled faintly. "Being in the company of a Sage and two Bajs… how tragic their fate must be."
The Bloodhound tossed three black coins into the beggar's plate. The two women with them followed it with two more coins.
The woman nodded, still without opening her eyes.
"You may pass."
As Eclipse walked by, the woman's humming brushed against her mind—pressing against her in a manner that was soft and haunting.
Almost wrong.
It sounded like a child's lullaby on one part. On a second listen it sounded a funeral chant. On a third, it sounded like a warning.
Something in Eclipse's chest twisted. Prompted by forces she herself could not make any real sense of, she glanced back.
The woman's eyes were now open, and she was staring right at her meaningfully with eyes that were the brightest silver Eclipse had ever seen.
The stare was measured. Knowing even. And they met Eclipse's gaze like a blade.
Eclipse turned forward at once, highly unnerved. This place was clearly no sanctuary but a nest of predators.
They crossed twisting alleys, descending and rising through hidden corridors until they reached a long bridge that sloped downward into darkness.
By the time they reached the end, Eclipse's head throbbed. An iron gate loomed before them, ringed by ironclad fencing.
The Bloodhound lifted a tag before it.
"The Sage, Bloodhound," he announced calmly, "returning with the Ashen Wolf."
The gate opened without being touched.
They entered.
Another descent.
Another corridor soaked in copper-stench.
Then—
An underground mansion unfolded before them.
No., this was a fortress.
Towers. Arches. High stone. Flickering red light that made the walls look like they were breathing.
The smell of blood struck Eclipse full-force. Her stomach lurched.
She tasted iron.
The Bloodhound watched her carefully.
"The Ashen Wolf is sensitive to blood," he muttered. "Train long enough, and you'll learn to silence it."
She swallowed hard, fury coiling tight in her chest.
"How long does this training take?" she snapped. "Because the only life I want is Malric NorthSteed's—and I refuse to wait forever."
There was a brief silence. Then….
"You're far from ready," he said flatly.
"So when will I be?" she demanded.
"Ten years, if you grow quickly. Twenty, if his wolf continues evolving stronger than it already is."
Rage flared.
"Then you don't want him dead," she spat. "You're wasting my time."
A faint chuckle left him.
He gestured sharply at the women still following them like they had a vow with silence. "Escort the boy to the Shadow Guards."
Ronan was seized, and then dragged away.
Their eyes locked—his burning with helpless fury, hers aching with the knowledge that she couldn't save anyone anymore.
Not him.
Not her pack.
Not herself.
But Ronan was the only family she had. And she was not going to let him vanish as their families did. She would fight for this much at the very least.
The Bloodhound led her through silent corridors where no one spoke, yet she felt watched from every corner.
"Do you know how many times Malric NorthSteed has been targeted?" he asked quietly as they entered a dark, empty room
Eclipse clenched her fists at the mention of the man who was now her ruin.
"A hundred and three assassination attempts," he continued. "When he was still only an Alpha Prince."
Her breath hitched.
"And out of those assassins," he said softly, lifting a candle to his scarred face, "only one survived."
The flame carved his expression into something legendary.
"I was that one."
The words landed not at all like boasting, but like a challenge.
For the first time since her pack died, something colder than grief settled into Eclipse's bones.
Not just rage, but resolve.
The Bloodhound never felt like a man of little strength, but in that minute, he came to represent the key to her freedom.
He and this damned place known as the Hollow.
If this place meant power…
If this place meant proximity to Malric…
If this place meant becoming something sharp enough to end him…
Then she would let herself burn.
Gladly let herself break.
Let herself become a weapon.
Whatever it took.
Because Eclipse Stones had already died with her pack. And what remained of her was just a hollow.