Chapter 20: Howls Without Form

POV: GUINE

The woods were full of howling, yet every living wolf had already fled.

The unnatural cries echoed down from the northern ridge in jagged, overlapping waves—a sound so warped and hollow it made the horses rear against their bits in the icy courtyard. It was not the familiar, vibrant call of pack wolves signaling a hunt. It was a chorus of broken, guttural shrieks that sounded as though the air itself were weeping.

"My Lady, you cannot ride out into that dark," Captain Steve pleaded, catching the leather reins of my mare as I mounted. "The perimeter watch reports movements along the treeline, but no scent of living skin."

"If I stay behind these stone walls while the northern boundary rots, the walls will only become our tomb," I replied, my voice steady against the bitter wind. "Bring your broadsword, Vance. Bring Thomas. We will inspect the boundary now."

We rode out beneath the pale, swollen moon, three shadows cutting through the frost-crusted valley. As we crossed the stone archway into the deep pine woods, the forest fell unnaturally quiet. The wild mountain game, the stags, the foxes, the ravens, had vanished entirely. The only sound was the crunch of horse hooves on frozen needles and the wet, heavy breathing of our mounts.

The howls continued to roll through the high canopy, yet whenever we pressed toward the sound, the woods stood empty.

We dismounted near the northern ravine where the stone boundary marker stood. Down in the shadows of an ancient oak, the earth had been torn to shreds. Deep, jagged claw marks were gouged three inches into the frozen soil, as if massive beasts had been thrashing in agony. And coating the edges of every trench was that same foul, metallic silver residue, gleaming under the moonlight like spilled quicksilver.

The air felt suffocatingly heavy, cold, and almost watchful, pressing against my skin like damp wool.

Driven by instinct, I narrowed my focus, extending my mind-hearing gift beyond the trees, searching for the surface thoughts of whatever was lurking in the dark.

Usually, my mind caught the sharp, structured thoughts of humans or the raw, instinctual drives of wolves. This time, I hit something entirely horrifying. It was neither man nor beast. It was a vast, chaotic resonance, a distant, wordless hunger vibrating through the soil itself, pulsing in exact, terrifying harmony with the dark crescent mark burning on my wrist.

It is seeking the key, the dark hum echoed silently against my skull. It is hungry for blood.

"Close the northern paths," I ordered, turning back toward the horses, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Erect heavy iron spikes across the ravine trail. No one enters these woods…"

"My Lady!" Captain Steve shouted.

I whipped around just as Thomas, our young estate guard, stumbled backward with a choked, agonizing gasp. He dropped to his knees in the snow, clutching his throat as his body racked with violent, unnatural spasms.

Before Steve could reach him, Thomas snapped his head up.

His eyes were completely gone, overwritten by a thick, metallic silver film that glowed with a sickening light. His jaws parted with a wet, crunching sound, spittle and silver ash dripping down his chin, and with a guttural, feral snarl, he lunged upward, tearing his hunting knife from his belt and leaping straight at Captain Steve’s throat.

"Thomas, stop!" Steve roared, raising his leather-wrapped forearm to block the blade. The sudden, demonic strength behind the young guard's strike shattered Steve’s balance, sending the heavy captain crashing hard into the snow.

Thomas raised the iron blade, his silver eyes fixed on Steve’s exposed chest.

There was no time to draw a sword. There was no time to reason with a mind that had already been devoured.

I raised my right hand, pulling back my leather glove. On pure instinct, I tapped into the dark, throbbed mark on my wrist, calling upon the volatile inheritance of the Eclipse bloodline.

Obey, I commanded in the silence of my soul.

A sharp wave of pitch-black, shadowy light erupted from my palm. The dark energy lashed across the clearing like a whip of liquid night, wrapping tightly around Thomas's chest and slamming him violently back onto the frozen earth.

The dark power held him pinned against the snow, crackling around his limbs like cold lightning. He thrashed, snarling in a voice that was no longer human, but the black energy held him completely immobile.

I stood in the center of the clearing, my chest heaving, staring down at my outstretched hand. My mind reeled, not from exhaustion, but from horror at how effortlessly the power had answered my call. In my first life, I had been weak, helpless, and completely reliant on the protection of others. Now, this ancient, terrifying shadow obeyed my very thought. The ease with which it answered me was almost as frightening as the attack itself.

"Steve," I rasped out, my breath pluming in the frost. "Bind his hands with heavy iron chains. Wrap his head in leather. We are taking him to Physician Harrow's isolation ward."

Steve scrambled up from the snow, his face ghastly pale as he looked between the squirming, silver-eyed guard and me. "Yes... yes, My Lady."

Together, we dragged the bound, thrashing body of the infected guard back toward the horses. Thomas's physical strength was terrifying, but the shadowy power pulsing from my wrist kept his fevered limbs dormant as we hoisted him over Steve’s saddle.

As we reached the edge of the woods and the dark stone spires of Eclipse Hollow rose up before us in the moonlight, the young guard stopped thrashing.

His head rolled back, his metallic silver eyes staring blankly up into the night sky. The frantic snarls faded, replaced by a low, hollow rasp that vibrated out of his throat, a voice that was layered, ancient, and undeniably not his own.

The infected guard opened his jaws, and a dark, multi-tonal whisper echoed into the freezing air:

“She has returned… the Eclipse must be claimed.”