Eleanor's hand lit up, glowing blue. Stormbite sparked to life, humming with energy.
Beside her, Aedric crouched slightly. One hand flickered with flame, the other raised as if ready to shield her. His eyes scanned the trees. The sound of footsteps snapped through the woods like breaking twigs.
Something was coming.
But then—a familiar voice.
"There you are, sir Aedric!"
The tense air cracked like glass under a stone.
It was Gabel, the captain of the warriors. He stepped out from the trees with a few guards behind him, their armor lightly clinking, spears resting at their sides. Gabel's sharp gaze bounced between them, then drifted to the campfire flickering beside the two.
Before Gabel could notice anything strange, Eleanor quickly let Stormbite vanish from her hand, the blue light dissolving into the air. Aedric did the same, snuffing out the fire dancing in his palm with a swift flick.
"We weren't hiding," Aedric muttered low enough for only Eleanor to hear. "But damn, that was close."
Gabel grinned, folding his arms. "Are you two on a date or something?" His tone was teasing, but his eyebrows lifted in surprise when he saw Eleanor and Aedric sitting so close.
Eleanor gave him a crooked smile. "Yes, we are," she replied smoothly, her voice light but steady.
Gabel blinked. "Seriously? During an active investigation? There's a curfew, you know—because of the wild beast."
Aedric waved it off. "Relax. I already told you, we're also out here investigating."
But Gabel suddenly sniffed the air. His face tightened. "Wait… do you smell that?"
Aedric stiffened. "Smell what?"
Gabel turned in place, his nose twitching. "Blood. Or death… something foul."
Eleanor's fingers curled tightly in her lap. "Must be from the two warriors that died earlier," she said quickly. "Maybe the smell's still hanging in the air."
She tried to sound casual, but her chest felt tight. Beneath the earth, just a few feet away, lay the burned and buried bodies of the two red-haired twins.
Aedric cleared his throat, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Did that old five-decade wolf-man find anything? You know, the one that claimed he could track anything?"
Gabel frowned. "Nothing. No scent. No prints. It's like the wild beast is clever—smarter than any regular predator."
He looked frustrated, and then added, "Anyway, the Alpha has summoned everyone to the pack house. He wants to address the people."
Gabel gave them both a final look, then nodded and turned away. The other warriors followed him back toward the village.
Once they were gone, Eleanor exhaled, letting her shoulders fall.
"You're terrible at lying," she whispered.
Aedric smirked. "But we didn't get caught, did we?"
They both chuckled softly and stood up, brushing leaves and dirt from their clothes before following the path back into Hermose.
The village buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Villagers gathered outside the pack house, voices rising with questions and rumors. Some clutched their children. Others looked around nervously, eyes scanning every shadow like it could sprout claws.
Elders stood at the front, forming a stiff line of grey hair and stern expressions. Beside them stood the pack's Beta Feliz Quad, Symone Orrin—father to both Daria and Elyndra. He looked tired, like he'd carried too many secrets for too long.
Eleanor's gaze drifted over the crowd, searching for one person.
Brina.
But she wasn't there.
Sarak—Elyndra's personal slave—was standing nearby. Eleanor approached her, heart quietly thudding in her chest.
"Where's Brina?" she asked.
Sarak gave a stiff bow before answering. "She's at home. She said she wasn't feeling well… something about needing rest."
Eleanor frowned, worry twisting inside her. She turned slightly, considering leaving the gathering to go check on Brina, but Aedric gently grabbed her wrist.
"Let's hear what the Big Alpha has to say first," he murmured.
Eleanor hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."
The crowd continued to mutter. Everyone was restless—scared, angry, uncertain.
Then Tyrone stepped forward.
The former omega now stood like a prince, his back straight, golden eyes sharp like cut gems. His voice cut clean through the noise.
"Silence!" he commanded.
The crowd went still.
Tyrone's expression held pride—like he was wearing new skin that finally fit. His yellow eyes shimmered under the firelight, deeper than Theron's had ever been.
Then Alpha Koran emerged.
He looked powerful, but different than before. His jaw was tense, his hand held tight onto the arm of the woman beside him—Elyndra.
Elyndra stood like a queen. Her silver and gold gown shimmered under the torches. She looked at the crowd with a soft, mysterious smile. But her eyes—they were watching. Measuring.
Tyrone stepped aside, bowing.
Koran spoke.
"I know many of you have heard the rumors," he began. His voice was low, steady. "About the wild beast in Hermose."
Murmurs flared again.
He raised a hand, and they stopped.
"Our warriors are investigating. We will find the beast. We will kill it. And we will hang its head on a spike here, in this square—to avenge the deaths of the Theron Quad and others who've fallen."
A few villagers cheered, but the sound was half-hearted.
Then someone shouted from the crowd, "How are we supposed to believe we're safe when no one is protecting us?"
Another voice: "I saw fire lighting up the woods! Maybe it's a warning from the Moon Goddess!"
A third: "Maybe the Lycan Queen has returned… to burn us all!"
Panic started to ripple again.
Then Elyndra stepped forward, her voice rising over the crowd like a blade.
"Silence."
Her face was calm. Her lips were soft. But her presence silenced everyone.
"We are doing everything in our power to protect you," she said. "And we will find this beast."
Then, unexpectedly, she added, "In fact… we are looking for volunteers."
A beat of stunned silence passed.
"Anyone who is brave enough to face the unknown… will be rewarded when the beast is found."
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
Koran looked sideways at her, visibly confused. Even the elders glanced at each other. This wasn't part of the plan.
"Volunteers?" one elder whispered. "Now?"
Elyndra's eyes scanned the faces. "Who will step forward?" she asked. "Who among you is brave enough to risk it all?"
No one moved.
People looked at their feet. Some looked at their children. No one dared.
Then—slowly, steadily—one hand rose.
Eleanor.
She stepped forward, hand in the air, her back straight. Her face calm, but her eyes burned like cold fire.
"I volunteer."
Gasps flew through the crowd like startled birds. Koran's mouth fell open. Tyrone's golden eyes flicked with disbelief. Even Elyndra seemed to blink for a heartbeat too long.
Beside Eleanor, Aedric reached up and tried to pull her hand down. "What are you doing, girl?" he hissed. "Have you lost it?"
Eleanor smiled sideways at him. "I'm volunteering."
Elyndra's lips curled at the corners. A small, knowing smile—like a queen who had just moved her favorite piece on the board exactly where she wanted it.
She had expected this.
And she was pleased.