The bloodmoon had vanished from the sky by the time Zephyr and Rennan slipped through the Silverfang Hold's shipping-container gates. Dawn's first light revealed the docks' forlorn sprawl—rusted cranes, silent warehouses, and scattered shipping pallets carpeting the cracked pavement. The air tasted of salt, oil, and diesel fumes, mixing in a heady reminder of the world they would save or lose today.
Zephyr adjusted the primer scroll inside his pack, feeling the weight of every rune and promise within. His HP and MG gauges held at 90/100 and 100%, courtesy of last night's Covenant infusion and Gray Court's moonlight ritual. Every heartbeat pulsed with purpose: find Rook, expose the traitor, and restore the Silverfang's honor.
They moved swiftly toward Pier Twenty-Two, where three Silverfang lieutenants—Jora, Malik, and Elda—awaited with their detachments. Each bore the wolf's crest etched on leather armor, eyes hardened by a week's worth of tension.
Jora, quartermaster turned loyal ally, stood with rifle slung across her back. Her steel-gray hair was braided tight—no-nonsense style for a no-nonsense warrior.Malik, reconnaissance captain, lean and hawk-eyed, scrolled through a holo-map displayed on his forearm.Elda, the hold's medic and rune-keeper, cradled a satchel of healing herbs and vials, ready for any casualties.
Zephyr paused before them, lifting a hand in greeting. "Thank you for answering the call," he said quietly. His voice carried the residual power of the Bloodwolf—steady and resonant.
Jora inclined her head. "Traitor hunts are dangerous. We follow your lead."
Malik tapped his holo-map. "The warehouse has two entry points: the south gate and the second-floor catwalk. I recommend a two-pronged approach."
Elda closed her packs. "I'll set healing wards at the staging area."
Zephyr nodded, heart warming at their unity. "We move at first light's full glow. Rennan, you flank Malik's team. I'll lead Jora through the south gate. Elda, monitor our comms."
They bowed in unison—a ritual bond of Pack and Bloodwolf—before dispersing into the shifting dawn mist.
Zephyr and Jora crept along the west side of the warehouse, boots silent on corrugated steel sheets. The south gate was a rusted chain-link door, secured by a heavy padlock stamped with the Covenant's insignia. Zephyr pressed a fingertip to the rune beneath his wrist and murmured the unlocking chant:
"Hemaleth key, whisper free;Grant us passage, silently."
The padlock clicked. Jora smirked. "Neat trick."
Zephyr nodded, dropping to one knee to ease the gate open. The warehouse interior lay shrouded in gloom—rows of stacked crates, narrow aisles, and the distant hum of refrigerator units still running.
He pressed a palm outward. "Stay low. No sudden moves."
Jora slipped inside, rifle at the ready, and Zephyr followed, the primer scroll pressed close. Shadows seemed to pulse against the crates, and even the air felt thick with expectation. He blinked, scanning for runic traps or Covenant wards. They'd learned from past slips; the building would be sealed by dark sigils if they were careless.
He lifted his hand to the small vial of runic powder Jora had supplied. With a shake, he scattered a fine circle at the entrance. The glyph glowed faintly, warding off enchantments. Then he raised his free hand and gestured forward. They melted into the darkness.
Below, Malik and Rennan scaled the warehouse wall via an overhead ladder to the second-floor catwalk—a grated platform that overlooked the south loading area. Bloodwolf instincts sharpened Zephyr's ears; he heard their hushed voices and the distant scrabble of leather boots.
Malik peered through the grating's slats. "I see two guards patrolling. They rotate every three minutes."
Rennan flexed his fists. "I'll draw them to the east corner; you move in when they're distracted."
Malik nodded and slipped from the catwalk, footsteps ghost-soft. Rennan followed. Moments later, muffled snarls and clattering boots echoed—Rennan's shadow meeting the guards in a brief, brutal scuffle.
Zephyr watched the shadows dance below, counting the guard's heels. Three… two… one… Then he and Jora slipped from the south aisle into a wider corridor, each step a promise of confrontation.
Zephyr and Jora crept between rows of haphazardly stacked crates. The scent of aged wood and mildew clung to his nostrils. Far ahead, a low, gravelly voice echoed.
"Deliver on time, Rook," it said."Failure is… unacceptable."
Zephyr's heart throbbed. They'd found the traitor. He tapped Jora's shoulder; they advanced on tiptoe. Rook's muffled response came from behind a stack: a low laugh.
"Don't test me, littersmith. You weren't here at Willow's Hollow."
Zephyr froze—Willow's Hollow was his mother's birthplace, long believed lost to history. The traitor knew more than he should.
"Show yourself!" Zephyr called, stepping into the aisle's dim glow.
A slender figure detached from the shadows: a woman in a Covenant-grey coat, hood up. Her voice was smooth as oil. "So, the Bloodwolf and his Pack arrive at last." She lowered her hood, revealing a pale face framed by silver-streaked black hair. Amber eyes glinted with cruel intelligence. "I am Rook."
Before Zephyr could react, she lunged, blade flashing—a short curved dagger glinting red at its edge. Zephyr raised his arm, the talisman's rune pulsing. He sidestepped, planting his foot, then drove a palm into her side… only to find herself lighter than expected, like a wraith.
She twisted free, blade swinging in an arc. Zephyr barely blocked with his forearm, pain lancing. He stumbled back, heart racing.
Jora fired a stun round from her sidearm. The bolt struck Rook's shoulder. She recoiled—hiss of pain—then vanished into darkness with inhuman speed.
Zephyr growled, pressing forward. He traced the novices' duel rune in the air and whispered:
"Veil's breath, slow her step;Bind the scarf of moonlit debt."
A ring of shadow curled around Rook's feet, slowing her retreat. Zephyr seized the moment—he dashed forward, knuckles clenched, and delivered a Night's Razor strike (20 HP). A burst of hematoglyph energy cleaved the air, catching Rook's arm and sending her reeling, dagger clattering.
System Notification: "Night's Razor recorded (2/5). HP: 70/100."
Rook spat blood and smiled, eyes fierce. "You learn quickly, Bloodwolf. But not quickly enough." She pulled a second dagger and sprang upward, scaling a stack of crates with uncanny agility.
Zephyr barely caught her foot with his chain-turned-whip, yanking her down. She slammed into a wooden crate, splinters flying. He scrambled atop the crates, blade raised.
From above, Rennan's howl of warning cut through the dimness—two Covenant enforcers had descended the catwalk. They aimed rifles at Zephyr's back.
He lifted his palms. "Over there!" he shouted, then unleashed Howl of Dominion (30 MG), voice echoing between metal towers. A tremor of fear rippled through the enforcers; they staggered, dropping their rifles as they clutched their ears.
System Notification: "Howl of Dominion recorded (2/3). MG: 70%."
Jora darted forward, kicking one rifle from a guard's hands. The other enforcer lunged at Zephyr. He ducked under the swing and countered with a Savage Claw triple-strike (20 MG), ripping through the enforcer's armor and sending him sprawling.
System Notification: "Savage Claw recorded (2/3). MG: 50%."
Zephyr turned to Rook, who stood atop a teetering stack of crates, tense and wounded. She raised her blades in admission. "You win—for now," she said, then vanished through a smashed window overhead.
Zephyr exhaled, adrenaline and relief mingling. Jora wiped sweat from her brow. Rennan dropped from the catwalk, landing beside them. "She's gone—but not far."
They regrouped at the Moonfall Fountain replica—an old decorative pond in the warehouse's center, repurposed as a rendezvous point. Moon-crystal shards still glimmered against water's surface under the faint glow of dawn lights.
Zephyr knelt by the pool's edge, rubbing bruised ribs. "She knew about Willow's Hollow. How? And why?"
Rennan crouched opposite a captured enforcer, gag removed but hands bound. Jora stood guard. "He may know something."
Zephyr faced the enforcer: a pale man in maroon armor, sweat and dust streaking his face. "You saw Rook leave. Tell me what you know."
The enforcer swallowed. "She's an exiled sentinel—once a pack scout who betrayed her own for Covenant science experiments. They enhanced her speed and reflexes with Sanguis Prototype fragments—made her… less human."
Zephyr's blood chilled at the truth: the Covenant had weaponized a rogue Pack member, creating a living nightmare. "Her target wasn't the Silverfang," Zephyr realized. "It was me."
The man nodded. "She was to capture the Bloodwolf—deliver you to Covenant labs for analysis. They believe your hybrid physiology holds the key to ultimate weaponization."
Zephyr's fists clenched. "They want to clone the Midnight System."
He stood, eyes blazing. "We have to stop her—for good."
The first rays of sunrise pierced the warehouse's broken windows. Zephyr felt the rune's warmth steady his pulse. He released the enforcer—knocking him unconscious with a firm thunk—and handed his knives to Jora.
"We can't kill her," Zephyr said softly. "She's a victim as much as aggressor. But I'll find her before she finds another lord of blood."
Rennan nodded. "The docks have dozens of abandoned ships. She'll head for deeper water."
Zephyr offered a grim smile. "Then we'll take to the water—reclaim our legacy on sea and shore."
Jora secured the primer scroll to Zephyr's pack. "And I'll requisition fisherman's boats."
Zephyr took a final look around the warehouse—broken crates, the shimmering pool, the dawn-lit cranes—etched into his mind as the cradle of his victory and the forge of his resolve.
System Prompt: "New Quest: Chase Rook to Ravenwing Ferry. Prepare for pursuit by water."
He turned to his strike team, heart racing with purpose. "Let's move out. The Bloodwolf's hunt continues."
Below, the harbor stirred to life, unaware of the war waged in its shadows—led by a teenager bound by blood and moon, determined to unite Pack and Covenant before the world bled at their feet.