Night hung over the Emberfang Vale like a predator, silent and watching. The moon had slipped behind a veil of clouds, and a cold mist coiled between the huts of the Wolfbrood tribe. The village fires had dimmed to embers. Only the watchmen on the palisades kept vigil, their eyes darting through the gloom.
Jackie crouched beside the granary, listening. Every part of him, from the pulse in his fingertips to the burning weight of the Heartstone at his belt, was alert. A chill passed through him—but it wasn't just the wind.
The air had changed.
A shadow flickered beyond the outer posts.
Then the scream.
A guttural cry tore the silence. One of the scouts fell with a wet thud from the wooden wall. An arrow whistled past Jackie's ear.
He moved.
"Up! To arms!" he bellowed, already sprinting toward the gate.
Horns blared—a high, trembling sound from carved elkbone trumpets. Villagers poured from their lodges, some clutching spears, others half-dressed, gripping knives and clubs.
Karus raiders surged from the dark. Clad in boiled leather, their skin painted in oily glyphs, they howled like beasts. Flaming pitch arced through the air. The first hut caught fire, and thick smoke billowed upward.
Jackie reached the gate where Bren, blood running from a cut on his scalp, struggled to rally the defenders.
"They've broken the south flank!" Bren shouted. "The granary's exposed!"
"I'll hold it," Jackie said without hesitation.
He darted back the way he'd come, ducking through smoke and chaos. A group of hunters, still unsure, looked to him.
"With me! To the granary!"
He had no time for speeches. His voice was fire, his presence a torch in the dark. The Heartstone pulsed, resonating with the blood in his veins.
Inside him, the Wolfflame stirred.
They reached the granary just as three Karus raiders smashed through the storage doors. Jackie threw his spear, nailing the first to a wooden post. The second came at him with a jagged sword, but Jackie spun low, flames licking from his hand. He struck with an open palm to the chest—
—Wolfflame Burst.
The Karus warrior screamed as fire exploded across his ribcage, launching him backward into a pile of grain sacks. The third turned to flee, but was met by Kaela, blade in hand, her eyes wild.
"Back to the pits, dog," she snarled, cutting him down.
She turned to Jackie, blood-smeared and breathless. "We can't hold like this."
Jackie nodded. "We don't. We take the fight to them."
Across the village, the battle raged. The Wolfbrood fought tooth and claw, but the Karus were relentless. They moved like a swarm, coordinated, fueled by bloodlust and dark sorcery. In the center of the village, a hulking Karus champion carved a path through defenders.
Jackie saw him from across the flames. The man was massive, wielding a cleaver and marked by crimson tattoos that pulsed with power.
Jackie's warriors faltered. Fear was rising. The Wolfbrood would break unless something changed now.
He stepped into the square, torchlight dancing across his wolf-tattooed chest. He could feel the Heartstone heating, the ancient relic feeding on the danger, on him.
He drew in a deep breath, planting his feet.
Then, from the deepest part of his soul, he howled.
The sound cracked the air. It wasn't human. It was primal, feral—an echo of the ancestral beast whose blood he carried. The Heartstone blazed in response, casting red-gold light across the battlefield.
The Karus froze.
The Wolfbrood looked up.
"For the tribe!" Jackie roared.
He charged the Karus champion.
They met in a thunderclap of steel. The cleaver struck—but Jackie moved with wolf-speed, ducking and countering with a sweep of his blade. Fire traced his edge. He kicked the champion's knee, driving him to stagger, then unleashed a burning palm to the chest.
Flame engulfed the raider's upper body. The man screamed, flailing, before Jackie ended him with a clean slash to the neck.
The tide turned.
Behind him, Kaela lifted her sword high. "Strike together!"
The defenders surged. Spears thrust. Arrows flew. The Karus broke ranks, panicking under the renewed assault.
One of Jackie's men—young Tadric—fell with an arrow in the leg, and Jackie scooped him up without slowing.
"We hold!" he shouted. "For the ancestors!"
The Wolfbrood answered with war cries and drumbeats from the ritual circle. The warriors pressed forward, herding the Karus back toward the gate.
By dawn, the raiders were gone—some dead, others fleeing into the wilds. Smoke curled from ruined huts. Blood soaked the soil.
But the tribe still stood.
Later
The fires had been doused. The injured tended. Jackie stood near the scorched remains of the outer fence, watching the sky lighten behind the mountain ridge.
Kaela approached quietly, her arm bandaged, her eyes weary.
"You saved us," she said.
"No," Jackie replied. "We saved us."
He looked out at the land. Beyond the mist, danger still loomed. The Karus would come again. Stronger, crueler. Tonight had only been the beginning.
Kaela rested a hand on his arm. "There's talk in the longhouse. The elders are… rethinking things. About you."
Jackie gave a small, humorless smile. "Took a war for them to see me."
"They see you now."
She stepped back, hesitated, then turned away. A flutter of something passed between them—half-formed, not yet spoken.
Jackie turned toward the center of the village.
There, the Heartstone still glowed faintly at his side. It felt… different now. Not just a relic. A conduit. An inheritance.
In the ashes of battle, something inside him had shifted.
He had led. He had become.
A movement caught his eye. An elder—a seer named Maelin—stood at the edge of the ritual circle, wind chimes clinking softly behind her. She raised her hand.
"Jackie," she said, voice thin as birdsong. "The spirits spoke tonight."
He bowed slightly. "What did they say?"
Her eyes gleamed with old wisdom. "Your howl was heard beyond the veil. The Wolf of Flame wakes within you. And the path ahead… is steeped in shadow."
She stepped closer, pressing a small totem into his palm—a carved wolf curled around a burning sun.
"When the stars fall thrice," she whispered, "you must not be alone."
Jackie stared at her, confused, but she turned and was gone.
Behind him, clouds stirred over the ridge—and somewhere deep in the forest, a low howl answered.
End of Chapter 23