Chapter twenty-six: Jerik’s return

The warning came at midnight.

A scream tore through the mountain wind, followed by the sharp howl of a scout. Alex and Brian rushed out of their tent, weapons drawn, senses alert. Fires lit up across the hills. Warriors scrambled from their shelters, already forming defensive lines. But the smell that clung to the air wasn’t just smoke.

It was darkness.

“He’s here,” Rachel said grimly, appearing beside them with her staff in hand. “Jerik has returned—and he’s not alone.”

From the northern ridge, they saw them: dozens of rogue wolves, all bearing Jerik’s sigil—a twisted moon clawed by a fang. But what truly froze the blood in Alex’s veins was the massive beast walking at Jerik’s side.

It was not a wolf.

It was something ancient.

Cloaked in shifting black mist, it had horns like a stag and fangs like daggers. Its eyes were white voids, glowing with a cursed light. It didn’t howl. It simply moved—and the land around it withered.

“That’s not possible,” Rachel whispered. “That’s a