-MAGNUS-
The rogue camp was alive with the murmur of wolves preparing for war. Fires crackled in makeshift pits, casting flickering light across rows of warriors sharpening weapons and testing their gear. In the centre of it all, Magnus sat on a worn but commanding chair, his sharp eyes scanning the chaos like a predator assessing its prey. His jaw was tight, his fingers drumming rhythmically against the armrest.
Rowen stood a few paces away, barking orders to his warriors, his voice booming with an arrogance that grated against Magnus’s every nerve. The Shadowclaw Alpha strutted like a king in his own mind, his broad shoulders thrown back and his chest puffed out as if the mere presence of his pack and the rogues cemented his superiority.
Magnus leaned back, his expression carefully neutral, but his mind churned with contempt. This fool actually believes he’s leading this rebellion. He doesn’t see it—the strings I’m pulling, the chessboard I’ve arranged around him.
“Magnus,” Rowen called out, his tone imperious as he turned to face him. “Tell your rogues to fall in line. They’re too scattered. If this attack is to work, I need them in formation, not skulking about like rats.”
Magnus’s lips twitched into a cold smile. “My rogues are fine where they are,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but with an edge that could cut steel. “They know how to move in shadows. That’s why you wanted them, isn’t it?”
Rowen frowned, clearly displeased. “Don’t push me, rogue. You may be useful now, but don’t forget whose packlands you’re standing on.”
Magnus’s wolf growled beneath the surface, his patience wearing thin. You idiot. You have no idea who you’re talking to. But outwardly, his expression remained unreadable, his sharp eyes gleaming with restrained malice. “Of course,” he said lightly, inclining his head. “Your pack, your rules.”
Rowen smirked, clearly taking Magnus’s deference as submission. He turned back to his warriors, barking more orders, his voice carrying over the din of preparation. Magnus watched him with a predator’s intensity, his fingers curling into fists.
Let him think he’s in charge. Let him have his moment. It won’t last.
Magnus’s mind drifted to the greater plan. Rowen’s arrogance was his greatest weakness, and Magnus had every intention of exploiting it. The attack on the King’s loyal pack was a necessary move, one that would fracture the King’s forces and shift the tide in their favour. But Magnus wasn’t here for Rowen’s war. He was here for the throne.
The prophecy burned in his mind like a brand. Two white wolves. One dark. Together, they would reshape the future. But only if they’re alive. And I don’t intend to let them see that future.
Magnus’s lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. Rowen’s end was as inevitable as the sunrise. He had served his purpose, rallying the other Alphas and providing a platform for rebellion. But his usefulness was waning, and Magnus’s wolf was growing tired of being treated like a second-class ally.
A younger rogue approached Magnus, interrupting his thoughts. “The warriors are ready,” the rogue said, his voice trembling slightly under Magnus’s sharp gaze.
“Good,” Magnus said, standing. He adjusted his jacket, his movements deliberate, every inch the composed leader. “Let Rowen think this is his moment of glory.”
The rogue hesitated, as if sensing the undercurrent in Magnus’s tone. “And when the attack is done?”
Magnus’s eyes gleamed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “When it’s done, the real game begins.”
As the rogue scurried away, Magnus cast one last glance at Rowen. The Shadowclaw Alpha stood at the head of his warriors, laughing with them, his confidence unshaken. Magnus’s smile turned colder. Enjoy your reign while it lasts, Rowen. You’re nothing more than a pawn in my game—and pawns are always the first to fall.
-FINN-
At the palace, a scout burst into the meeting room, breathless and urgent.
“Sire!” he exclaimed, bowing deeply to the King. “Magnus and Rowen have attacked Silverpines. Their forces outnumber the defenders three to one.”
The King’s expression darkened, his piercing gaze flicking to Freya and Tobias. “They’re forcing us to split our forces,” he said, his voice heavy with frustration. “If we leave the palace undefended, we risk losing everything.”
Daemon clenched his fists, his wolf growling beneath the surface. “Then let us go,” he said. “The team can lead a force to defend Silverpines. The King must stay here to guard the palace.”
The King hesitated, his gaze lingering on Freya and Daemon. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, his tone serious.
Freya’s voice was steady, her determination unwavering. “We are. This is why we’re here.”
With a curt nod, the King gave the order. “Take only what you need. Leave within the hour.”
– TOBIAS-
The team assembled quickly in the main courtyard under Tobias’s command. Freya stood beside him, her presence calming to the group despite the chaos around them. Tobias’s sharp blue eyes scanned the warriors gathered, assessing their readiness. His wolf was restless, pushing for action, and his voice carried the weight of leadership.
“We’re heading out in ten,” Tobias barked, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The pack under attack is loyal to the King. We don’t just defend them—we show them why they can count on us. Every wolf here is family.”
Freya stepped forward, her voice softer but just as resolute. “We’ve trained for this. We’re stronger together than any force they can throw at us. Stay focused and protect each other.”
The group nodded, a mixture of determination and nerves flickering across their faces. Sean and Kian stood near the front, their youthful confidence masking the unease that only Finn, standing nearby, seemed to pick up on. He nudged Kian with a grin. “Don’t look so serious. We’ve got this.”
Kian smirked but didn’t reply, his eyes on Tobias as he gave final orders.
Daemon stood slightly apart, his gaze fixed on Freya. “Stay close to her,” he told Tobias quietly, his voice low enough that only Tobias could hear. “If anything happens…”
“I know,” Tobias interrupted, his expression hard. “But nothing will.”
Helena hovered near the group, watching as Daemon shouldered his pack and checked his weapons. He caught her eye and walked over, lowering his voice. “You stay here. With the twins coming, I can’t risk—”
“I’m not staying behind,” Helena interrupted, her jaw set stubbornly. “I can still fight.”
Daemon’s gaze softened for a moment, but he shook his head. “You’re not just fighting for yourself anymore. Stay. Please.”
Helena hesitated, her heart warring with her instincts, but finally, she nodded. “Be careful.”
As the group moved out, the air was thick with tension. Freya walked beside Tobias, her wolf stirring uneasily at the thought of the battle ahead. “Do you think we’re ready?” she asked quietly.
Tobias glanced at her, his expression softening for a moment. “We’ve trained hard. But ready or not, we’ll make it through. Together.”
The journey to the besieged pack’s territory was quick but tense. As they approached the border, Finn couldn’t resist breaking the silence. “You know,” he said lightly, “if we pull this off, I think we deserve a feast. I’m talking mountains of food.”
Bren rolled his eyes. “Focus, Finn.”
“I am focused,” Finn shot back, grinning. “Focused on the post-battle celebration.”
Tobias let the banter continue for a moment before raising his hand to signal silence. His voice was low but firm. “We’re close. Stay sharp. Freya, with me.”
The pack they were defending was under heavy attack, smoke rising in the distance as they approached. Rogues circled the pack’s perimeter like predators, their howls cutting through the air. Tobias shifted, his dark wolf standing tall and commanding, while the rest of the team followed suit.
Daemon, his white wolf almost as imposing as Tobias’s, growled low, his sleek form moving with deadly intent. Freya’s wolf, glowing faintly in the moonlight, stepped forward, her lilac eyes scanning the battlefield. The team spread out, their strategy seamless from weeks of training.
As the first rogue lunged toward them, Tobias’s voice rang out through their mental link. “Remember what we’ve learned. No hesitation. Protect each other.”
The battle began in earnest, chaos erupting as the team engaged the attackers. Freya moved with grace, her wolf’s power not in brute force but in her ability to sense and manipulate emotions. She calmed an overwhelmed defender, sending him back to the safety of his packhouse, and instilled fear in a rogue lunging for Daemon, causing him to falter.
The battle’s chaos had reached its peak, with the rogues seemingly endless in their assault. Freya’s wolf moved through the fray with purpose, her abilities quietly turning the tide where brute strength couldn’t. Tobias, however, was a storm of power, his wolf a blur of dark brown as he tore through enemy after enemy. Daemon flanked him, his speed and precision unmatched, but even he struggled to keep pace with Tobias’s growing ferocity.
Daemon’s voice echoed through their mental link, steady and grounding. “Tobias, remember your training. Don’t let it take over.”
The skirmish was chaotic, the sound of snarling wolves and clashing claws echoing through the dense forest. Tobias led his group into the fray with precision, cutting through the enemy ranks with his usual efficiency.
But then something changed.
Pinned down by a larger rogue wolf, Tobias’s rage surged uncontrollably. A dark glow began to envelop him, faint at first, like an ominous shadow flickering across his body. His team hesitated, the sight of their leader transforming into something almost unrecognisable freezing them in place.
When Tobias fought back, it wasn’t just with skill—it was with a savage, unrelenting force. He tore through the rogues with a ferocity that sent even his own warriors stumbling back in fear. His strikes weren’t just to incapacitate; they were meant to destroy. Blood spattered across his darkened form as he moved, the glow intensifying, his wolf’s growl deep and guttural.
Nathan gasped, his wide eyes fixed on Tobias. “What is that… around him?” he whispered to Sean, who couldn’t answer, frozen in place.
Freya’s team arrived just as Tobias ripped through the last of the rogues in his path. The sight of him standing there, bloodied, the glow pulsating like a living entity around him, sent a chill through Freya’s heart.
“Tobias!” Freya’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, but there was no immediate response. His blue eyes, now laced with a dark, fiery hue, flicked to her. For a moment, it seemed as if he didn’t recognise her.
Daemon stepped forward cautiously, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Brother, you need to stand down,” he said firmly.
Tobias’s wolf growled, the sound vibrating through the air. But then Freya stepped closer, her voice softer, her hand outstretched. “Tobias, it’s me. Come back to me.”
The glow flickered, and Tobias staggered slightly, his breaths heaving. His wolf receded, and the glow dissipated as quickly as it had come. He wiped his mouth and then looked down at his bloodied hands, horror creeping into his expression.
“What… what did I just do?” he whispered, his voice trembling.
Daemon shifted back into his human form, his voice low but firm. “What the hell was that?”
“I… I don’t know,” Tobias admitted, his voice raw. He glanced at Freya, guilt flickering in his eyes. “It was like I couldn’t stop.”
Freya stepped closer, placing a calming hand on his arm. “We’ll figure it out,” she said softly, her hazel eyes steady.
Daemon’s expression was grim. “We held the line, but Magnus got what he wanted. He’s taken hostages.”
Liam wiped blood from his brow, his eyes dark with fury. “Four warriors are missing. They ambushed us with ropes coated in silver. It wasn’t about killing—it was about capturing.”
Freya’s breath hitched. “Who?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Not Zara,” Finn said quickly, limping over, his shield flickering faintly around him. He grinned despite his injuries. “She crushed two rogues trying to rope her. It was terrifying. Remind me never to get on her bad side.”
Zara approached them, blood streaked across her arms but otherwise unscathed. “They underestimated me,” she said simply. “But others… they weren’t so lucky.”
“They took warriors from the pack we came to defend,” George added. “Magnus wanted to send a message to the King, and he used their pack to do it.”
Freya’s fists clenched, a mix of anger and guilt swirling in her chest. “We came to protect them. And now…”
“We’ll get them back,” Daemon said firmly, his grey eyes glinting with determination. “This isn’t over.”
The Alpha of the pack they had defended approached, his face etched with gratitude despite the losses. He placed a hand on George’s shoulder, his voice heavy with emotion. “We owe you a debt we can’t repay,” he said, his tone raw. “You fought for us when you didn’t have to. Whatever happens, my pack stands with you.”
George nodded, his expression serious. “We’re all in this together. If Magnus takes one pack, he takes us all.”
The Alpha’s eyes flickered to Freya and Daemon, his gaze lingering. “The stories are true,” he murmured. “White wolves. Prophecies. Maybe the Goddess hasn’t abandoned us after all.”
Freya dipped her head, her voice quiet. “We fight for all of us.”
A soft groan caught their attention, and Freya’s head whipped around. Her eyes landed on Bren, lying on the ground, blood pooling from a deep gash in his side. Kian knelt beside him, pressing a makeshift bandage against the wound, his face pale but determined.
“He saved me,” Kian said hoarsely, his voice shaking. “A rogue went for me, and Bren… he just—he just threw himself in the way.”
Freya dropped to her knees beside them, her hands trembling as she reached for Bren. “Bren,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Stay with us.”
Bren’s eyes fluttered open, and he managed a weak smile. “I’m not going anywhere,” he rasped. “Just… need a minute.”
Zara knelt on his other side, her usually stoic expression softening. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” she said, her voice wavering. “But a brave one.”
Freya looked up at Tobias, her hazel eyes filled with desperation. “We need to get him back. Now.”
Tobias nodded sharply, his wolf still pacing beneath the surface. “Nathan, Finn, you’re carrying him. Kian, stay close. We’re moving out.”
The team regrouped in the aftermath, the battle won but at a cost. The younger warriors avoided Tobias, their gazes wary. Kian whispered something to Nathan, but both quickly fell silent when Tobias looked their way. Even Finn, usually light-hearted, avoided making eye contact.
Freya approached Tobias, her hand resting on his arm. “You were incredible out there,” she said softly, trying to reassure him.
But Tobias pulled away, his voice bitter. “Incredible? Freya, I was a monster. I lost control.” His jaw tightened as he turned to look at the others. “They’re afraid of me. And they should be.”
Freya’s heart ached at his words, but before she could respond, Daemon’s voice cut through. “We all lose control sometimes, Tobias. What matters is how we come back from it.”
Tobias didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the ground. He did not speak to anyone on the way back to the royal pack.
Inside the palace, the King was already preparing for the next steps. The council waited, the air thick with tension as the team stepped into the war room. They weren’t just warriors anymore—they were the line between hope and ruin.
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