The sun beat down on the training field, but it wasn’t nearly as hot as the determination radiating off the Guardians. Dust kicked up beneath their boots as they sparred, shifting between forms and strikes, sweat clinging to skin and scales alike.
No rest for the weary. Not even for legends.
Cheyenne ducked under a high punch from Tora and flipped her onto the mat with a grin.
“Nice try, Flame Breath,” she teased, panting.Tora groaned and muttered something draconic under her breath as she rolled onto her back.From the sidelines, Isolde helped Chelsea up from her latest round of sparring, both of them soaked in effort and glory. Nalia stood off to the side with Tyler, stretching out her sore limbs, a quiet smirk on her lips. There was a calm to her now. Centered. Steady. But not idle.
Gunner tossed a towel to Cheyenne, who caught it one-handed and wiped her brow.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” she m
The morning sun filtered through the open windows of the conference room at the packhouse, casting golden lines across the floor. A large map of the region was stretched across the table in front of them, but the group wasn’t focused on territory or battle formations this time. Today was about something just as crucial—finding Ben’s next Beta.Cheyenne had her feet kicked up on the corner of the table, arms crossed as she listened to the conversation with a thoughtful frown. Gunner leaned forward, elbows on the table, absently spinning a pen between his fingers. Tyler sat opposite Ben, still looking a little guilty despite everyone’s support. Ben, meanwhile, looked downright annoyed.“I swear,” Ben muttered, rubbing his hands down his face, “I think the Beta title is cursed.”Cheyenne arched an eyebrow. “Cursed?”Ben threw his hands out. “Look at the record. Gunner was supposed to be Beta.
The sun beat down on the training field, but it wasn’t nearly as hot as the determination radiating off the Guardians. Dust kicked up beneath their boots as they sparred, shifting between forms and strikes, sweat clinging to skin and scales alike.No rest for the weary. Not even for legends.Cheyenne ducked under a high punch from Tora and flipped her onto the mat with a grin.“Nice try, Flame Breath,” she teased, panting.Tora groaned and muttered something draconic under her breath as she rolled onto her back.From the sidelines, Isolde helped Chelsea up from her latest round of sparring, both of them soaked in effort and glory. Nalia stood off to the side with Tyler, stretching out her sore limbs, a quiet smirk on her lips. There was a calm to her now. Centered. Steady. But not idle.Gunner tossed a towel to Cheyenne, who caught it one-handed and wiped her brow.“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” she m
The battlefield was quiet now. Not silent—never silent—but the storm had passed. Smoke curled in lazy trails above scorched earth. Ash clung to the survivors like second skin. And at the center of it all, crumpled on the blood-streaked ground, was Jax.Tora stumbled through the wreckage, her wings dragging behind her. The moment her eyes locked on his unmoving form, her heart shattered.“No—” Her voice cracked as she dropped to her knees beside him. “No, no, Jax… please…”His chest rose in shallow, ragged breaths. Blood soaked through his shirt, his side, everything. It was bad. Too bad.Chelsea crouched beside her. “We need to get him back. Now. I can stabilize him but I don’t know if—”“No.” Tora didn’t look up. Her hand pressed against the wound, her other shaking as it brushed the sweat from Jax’s brow. “Please don’t leave me. Ple
The earth groaned beneath their feet.Cracks webbed across the temple floor, glowing faintly with the sickly violet hue of Umbraeth’s essence pressing against the last fragments of the seal. The air shimmered unnaturally, heavy with heat and pressure, making it difficult to breathe. Power coiled in the space like a beast in wait, pulsing in time with something ancient and angry.Nalia stood in the center, her phoenix spirit flickering and pulsing just beneath her skin. Flames licked her palms, her eyes already glowing like molten gold as Saelari surged to the surface, lending her strength. She tried not to shake. This was it. The moment they’d all been preparing for.To her left, Isolde paced in slow, deliberate arcs, Zethra’s shadow magic pooling around her like ink in water. Every step she took layered a protective ward in the air, glyphs in the language of old gods burning black and deep purple. Chelsea followed closely behind her, weaving s
The moon was still high when the Guardians assembled at the pack border, the firelight of the dwindling party still flickering in the distance. Their celebration had ended in a flurry of urgency—Cheyenne’s cell phone still buzzed with Kensavion’s last words echoing through her mind: "…Or Umbraeth will rise before the sun does."There was no time for drawn-out goodbyes.Gunner stood with Cheyenne, his jaw tight as he tried to mask his worry. Tyler had his arm wrapped around Nalia protectively, though the phoenix’s golden eyes burned with fierce determination. Tegan’s and Tora’s dragon energy radiated from beneath their skin, and beside Tora, Jax stood ready, muscles tense. Isolde and Collin were the most composed, but the tension in their posture spoke volumes. Chelsea held Ben’s hand tightly, looking back at the packhouse thinking about Darian and what would happen to him if they didn’t return.&ldq
Far beneath the Phoenix sanctum...The world above still slumbered in fragile peace. But deep below—beneath roots, stone, and flame—something vast and ancient stirred.The prison, once thought impenetrable, now groaned under pressure. Threads of old magic, etched into the obsidian rock like veins, flickered with dying light. A shudder rippled through the cavern walls as a hairline fracture cracked open across the blackened surface of the chamber floor.Thick, tar-like mist hissed out from the breach, curling through the air like sentient smoke, searching.Feeding.The temperature dropped, not with cold, but with absence—a void so complete it devoured heat, sound, even time. The darkness took on weight, pressing against the barrier, flexing fingers no longer fully bound.Then… a sound. Not a growl. Not a roar. A whisper. Low, ancient, and seething with hunger.“They forget what I am… but t