The Scent of Despair

The golden crystal lay cold and mocking in my hand, a brutal counterpoint to the raging inferno of panic and fury that consumed me.

"Darren!" I roared, the sound torn from my throat, raw and desperate. My wolf, unleashed and unchained, howled within my mind, a frantic, grief-stricken sound that echoed my own. The festival, moments ago a vibrant tapestry of light and joy, was now a suffocating shroud of noise and distraction.

I dropped to a crouch, the cobbled stones digging into my knees, ignoring the sting. My nose flared, desperate to capture the faintest trace of him beyond the lingering metallic tang. The whispers, no longer triumphant, had receded, replaced by a chilling silence that magnified my terror. No. They were still there, just deeper, colder, like venom seeping into the earth.

Gone...

No! My Alpha roared back, a primal, defiant challenge. He was not gone. I would find him.

My pack. I needed my pack.

My hand still clutched the crystal as I launched myself forward, tearing