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Dark fairies were no ordinary foes. They were said to be sinister and brutal; those entities were known for making intruders vanish without a trace… or worse.
Zion and Maxwell intensified their attacks, turning the battlefield into a scene of carnage. But the enemy wolves kept coming, like an endless swarm of ants. No matter how strong Zion and Maxwell were, they couldn’t keep up with the relentless surge of rogues crashing toward them.
“Zion! Maxwell! Lance! They’re trying to force us toward the middle road; they’re herding us! Push back, now!” Addison screamed at the top of her lungs, urgency lacing every word.
Addison’s heart pounded as a terrifying possibility formed in her mind: What if the goal wasn’t just to trap them, but to let the dark fairies to deal with her people? If the dark witches really had a way to control or bargain with those brutal, elusive creatures, then sparing Addison, the target, might be part of the deal.
And Addison knew–she couldn’t let that happen.
She didn’t know what this mysterious wolf within her was thinking. Its silence was maddening. But one thing was certain: Addison couldn’t shift into her wolf form, not right now.
A borrowed knife to eliminate their enemies.
Their caravan had just entered the middle route, and as if on cue, the rogues who had been relentlessly attacking them began to retreat. Zion, blood–soaked from the dozens of rogues he had taken down, noticed the sudden withdrawal.
Terrified, they galloped at full speed, no longer responding to the coachman’s
commands. Despite his desperate attempts to rein them in, the horses charged ahead, and the only open path in their view? The middle route.
The coachman’s grip tightened on the reins as anxiety flooded his chest, but the horses wouldn’t stop. Even if he managed to halt them, the carts behind would crash into one another due to the sudden stop, likely causing more casualties. It was a lose–lose situation; take the middle route, or risk a pile–up that could injure or kill everyone on board.
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Addison glared outside the cart, but the animal hide covering the roof and some part of the rear of the cart blocked most of her view; all she could see was the horse–drawn cart trailing behind theirs.
It was clear now: their goal wasn’t to capture Addison themselves, but to force the caravan into a trap, where the dark fairies would be waiting to deal with her and her
group.
The werewolves attacking them weren’t just reckless, they were fearless, charging in like moths to a flame, utterly unafraid of death. That could only mean one thing these were death warriors, ready to die for their mission.
Their escape route had been scaled.
The guards, now fully shifted into their wolf forms, fought fiercely alongside the mages. Even Lance had shifted, using his wolf form to clear a path for the caravan as it surged forward at full speed. But when he heard Addison’s warning, he nearly stumbled, realizing too late that she was right.
–
So, she started to think of everything that infuriated her the way these rogues were herding them toward certain death, the overwhelming numbers that made resistance feel futile, and most of all, the crushing helplessness she felt while everyone else risked their lives around her. The anger boiled in her chest, and then–she felt it. A spark.
It flickered in her core like flint against steel, bright for a heartbeat… then gone. Again and again, it ignited, only to die out moments later.
“Princess, we can’t break through!” one of the guards shouted, slashing down another rogue without pause. The attackers didn’t even try to fight back; they were simply throwing themselves in the way, acting as living barricades to force the caravan toward the dangerous middle route.
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‘It’s not enough?‘ Addison/gritted her teeth. ‘What am I missing?”
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Enemy werewolves were racing alongside the caravan on both sides, forcing them onto the middle road, just as Addison had predicted. They weren’t just being attacked; they were being herded.
Luckily, they had Elric on their side. As soon as Lance shouted that they were under attack, the mages immediately began chanting their incantations. Surrounded by forest, they had to avoid using fire–based spells to prevent igniting the entire area, so they resorted to other elemental attacks, lightning, wind, and ice, to support the guards.
With no other choice and a heart heavy with dread, the coachman clenched his jaw and surrendered to fate, as the caravan barreled into the middle road.
‘Come on… come out!‘ Addison urged silently, trying to coax her wolf into emerging. But no matter how hard she focused, there was no response; the beast within remained dormant, unbothered by her call. Frustrated, she changed tactics and turned to her theory: the obsidian–black wolf had responded to rage before, hadn’t it?
Addison was starting to feel truly helpless. No matter how hard she tried, she had no way of awakening her wolf; it was as if it had gone back into deep slumber. ‘Was it too drained after emerging last time?‘ she wondered. ‘Or maybe it’s still digesting the vitality it absorbed from my mates… or worse, does it simply not want to come out?‘
She felt like she was standing on the edge of understanding something critical, but just couldn’t grasp
what more was needed to fully awaken the power inside her.
The three men froze for a split second as the implications hit them. Then their expressions darkened, murderous, even.
Zion’s heart sank. No matter how fiercely they fought, they would only wear themselves down. The enemy was well–prepared, and this was only the beginning.
No one spoke, but everyone remained on high alert, eyes scanning their surroundings. The thick fog and eerie silence weighed heavily on them, and none dared to separate from the group. For now, their only safety lay in staying together until they made it out of the forest.
Then Zion’s sharp gaze locked onto a dark gray wolf standing motionless on a slope in the forest, just watching. Its eyes gleamed with vicious intent. With Zion’s experience, he immediately recognized the signs; this wolf was the one commanding the assault.
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‘This can’t go on. She clenched her fists, frustration bubbling inside her. Then, she closed her eyes and trie
to recall the feeling she had when she shifted into her wolf form the day before. They couldn’t afford to keep playing into the rogues‘ hands, she had to join the fight.
Then, with a subtle motion, Lance raised his head and signaled for the entire caravan to slow down. Gradually, the thundering hooves and creaking wheels began to ease, until finally, the entire group came to a cautious halt in the middle of the fog–shrouded road.
His sharp eyes locked onto the dark grey wolf still watching them from a distance- calm, unmoving, and eerily silent.
One after another, the rogues‘ lifeless bodies piled across the ground, turning the forest path into a blood–soaked battlefield. The scent of death and violence panicked the horses, sending them into a full–blown frenzy.
The attackers knew they couldn’t go head–to–head with Addison’s two Alpha mates or overcome Lance’s formidable combat skills. So, instead of trying to break through the line of guards to reach Addison directly, they began flanking the caravan from both sides, herding them toward the middle route.
Hearing this, a cold sweat broke out on Addison’s back. These rogues had to know what lay ahead. Either they were aware of the dark legends surrounding that path… or, as Zion speculated before, they were working for the dark witches and are aware of the dark fairies. If that was the case, then the stories about dark fairies residing there must
also be true.
If her suspicion was correct, these attackers were the same group that had assaulted Zion’s Midnight River Pack in their attempt to abduct Claire. Whether they were working with the dark witches or were remnants of their faction, one thing was clear: they were herding them into the middle route on purpose.
After all, fighting two powerful/Alphas at her side would be a costly battle. It would be easier to let someone, or something, else do the killing, then collect the spoils when it
was over.
Zion, sensing the danger, became even more ferocious. He tore into their enemies with savage precision, instantly/ripping the head off one rogue with his razor–sharp teeth, then cleanly severing another’s neck with a brutal slash of his claws.
17:13 @
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Maxwell, too, was running alongside the caravan, his once majestic grey wolf now drenched in blood. But neither he nor Zion slowed down. Instead, they grew even more alert, their eyes scanning every shadow for danger. At the front, Lance led the caravan with tense vigilance, his cars perked and gaze sharp as he surveyed the eerie forest cloaked in thick fog.
“They’re trying to trap us there… or worse.‘
Just then, she heard the coachman shout in frustration. “Damn it!”
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