THE DYING GROUNDS

Chapter Two

Six Moons Earlier

The body of the pup was still warm when they found it.

Marina knelt in the frost covered grass, her hand hovering over the small form but not quite touching. The wolf could not have been more than four moons old, still learning to hold his shift, still clumsy in both human and wolf forms. Now he would never grow skilled at either.

"That makes seventeen." Elder Moonseer's voice was heavy with grief. The ancient she wolf stood at the edge of the clearing, her white fur gleaming in the pre dawn light. In human form, she appeared as a woman of indeterminate age, her silver hair braided with moonstone beads that clicked softly as she moved. "Seventeen dead in three moons. At this rate, we will have no young ones left by winter's end."

Marina forced herself to examine the pup's body with clinical detachment, though her heart ached. The symptoms were consistent with all the others: foam at the mouth, eyes clouded white, limbs rigid in final convulsions. The scent of poison clung to the small corpse, mixed with something else, something that made her shadow magic recoil instinctively.

"Dark magic," she murmured, pulling her hand back. "Woven into the poison itself. This was not just a toxin. This was murder by design."

"We know." Moonseer's voice cracked. "The question is: who designs such horror? Who would target pups?"

Marina stood, brushing frost from her knees. Around them, the Silvermoon territory stretched in shades of grey and white, birch trees with pale bark, snow dusted meadows, the distant peaks of the northern mountains where the pack made their dens. It should have been beautiful. Instead, it felt like a graveyard waiting to be filled.

Three more Silvermoon wolves approached through the morning mist, carrying a stretcher woven from willow branches. They moved with the careful reverence reserved for the dead, their faces etched with the particular pain that came from losing children. The pup's mother would be in her den, howling her grief to the uncaring sky. Marina had heard that sound too many times in recent weeks.

"Take him to the Mourning Stones," Moonseer instructed softly. "His mother will want to prepare him for the pyre."

As the wolves bore the small body away, Marina turned to study the elder more closely. Moonseer was the oldest living member of the Silvermoon Pack, old enough to remember the last great war between the clans. Her prophetic visions had guided their pack for over a century. If anyone could see a path through this nightmare, it would be her.

But the elder's milky eyes held only shadows.

"You have seen something," Marina said. It was not a question.

Moonseer's jaw tightened. "Come. The Council waits."

They walked in silence through the waking territory. Silvermoon wolves emerged from their dens to begin the day's duties, but there was no joy in their movements. Every face was marked by loss, a mother who had buried a child, a father whose mate had succumbed to the poison, siblings whose entire litters had been wiped out overnight.

The plague had many names. Shadow Death, some called it, for the darkness that clouded victims' eyes. The Silent Killer, because it struck without warning. Moon's Curse, whispered by those who believed they were being punished for some ancient transgression.

Marina called it what it was: genocide.

The Council Den sat at the heart of Silvermoon territory, carved into the side of a massive granite cliff. Ancient runes marked the entrance, protections laid down by the founding wolves centuries ago. As Marina and Moonseer approached, two guards pulled open the heavy wooden doors.

Inside, five figures waited around a circular stone table.

Alpha Thornwhisper sat at the head, her silver fur streaked with black that marked her mixed heritage. She was a distant cousin to Marina. Both carried the rare blend of Silvermoon and Shadowpaw blood that allowed them to manipulate shadow magic. Unlike Marina, Thornwhisper had been born into the Silvermoon Pack and accepted from birth. Marina had been an outsider, brought in as a child after her Shadowpaw father was killed in a border dispute.

She had spent her entire life proving she belonged.

"Sit, Marina," Thornwhisper commanded, gesturing to an empty seat. Her voice carried the weight of Alpha authority, but also exhaustion. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. "Moonseer, share your vision."

Marina sat between two other Council members: Brightpaw, the pack's master healer, and Shadowstrike, their lead warrior. Across from her sat Frostclaw and Nightrunner, representatives of the elder wolves and the hunting parties respectively. All watched her with expressions she could not quite read.

Moonseer moved to the center of the circle. From her robes, she withdrew a piece of polished obsidian, a scrying stone used for visions. She placed it on the table, and immediately shadows began to swirl within its dark surface.

"I saw this three nights ago," the elder began. "I have meditated on it, sought clarity, but the vision remains unchanged."

The shadows in the stone coalesced into an image: a massive red wolf standing on the shore of a poisoned stream. The water ran black, and dead fish floated belly up along its banks. As they watched, the red wolf bent to drink from the corrupted water, then raised its head and howled, a sound of triumph, not pain.

"The Red Wolf of Bloodfang," Frostclaw growled. "I knew it. They are behind this."

"It could be symbolic," Brightpaw protested. "Visions are not always literal."

"The Bloodfang Pack has the most to gain from our destruction," Shadowstrike interrupted. His scarred face twisted with anger. "They have always resented our healing magic, our connection to the moon goddess. They are warriors and hunters, brutes who solve problems with teeth and claws."

"That is prejudice, not evidence," Marina heard herself say. All eyes turned to her, and she felt her hybrid nature keenly, neither fully trusted nor fully rejected. "The Bloodfang Pack has lost wolves too. I have heard reports."

"Reports can be falsified," Thornwhisper said quietly. "Wolves can be sacrificed to deflect suspicion." She leaned forward, her gaze intense. "Marina, how well do you know the Bloodfang territory?"

A cold feeling settled in Marina's stomach. "I have never been there. The border between our territories is heavily guarded. Why?"

Moonseer spoke again, her voice taking on the hollow quality that meant she was channeling something beyond herself. "The red wolf in my vision had amber eyes that burned like fire. He stood Alpha tall, with silver streaking his dark fur. He radiated power and rage in equal measure."

Marina's breath caught. That description could only mean one wolf.

"Alpha Silvain Redthorn," she whispered.

"Yes." Thornwhisper stood, beginning to pace around the table. "Silvain Redthorn, who became Alpha five years ago after his father died in the last plague outbreak. Silvain, whose territory borders three of the four major packs. Silvain, who has been consolidating power and expanding his warriors' training." She stopped directly across from Marina. "Silvain, who would benefit most from weakening his neighbors before attempting conquest."

"This is speculation," Marina protested, but her voice sounded weak even to her own ears. "One vision of a red wolf near poisoned water does not prove anything."

"There is more." Brightpaw slid a leather folder across the table. "These are reports from our border scouts. Bloodfang hunting parties have been seen near our water sources. Always at night, always in small groups. When challenged, they claim to be tracking prey that crossed into our territory."

Marina opened the folder with trembling fingers. Page after page of witness testimony, sketched maps showing patrol routes, dates and times. The evidence was circumstantial but damning in its accumulation.

"They are scouting," Shadowstrike said grimly. "Learning our patterns, identifying our water supplies, noting our weak points. Classic preparation for either invasion or sabotage."

"Or both," Frostclaw added.

Marina's mind raced. The Bloodfang Pack was the largest and most aggressive of the four major clans. Their territory covered the richest hunting grounds, and their warriors were legendary. If they decided to expand through conquest, starting with weakened neighbors made strategic sense.

But something felt wrong. She could not articulate what, exactly, just a nagging sense that the pieces did not quite fit together.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. Already felt the trap closing around her.

Alpha Thornwhisper resumed her seat. When she spoke, her words carried the full weight of command. "The Council has deliberated. We cannot go to war based on visions alone, we would need proof of Bloodfang's guilt. But we also cannot sit idle while our pups die." She paused, her silver eyes boring into Marina's. "We need someone to infiltrate the Bloodfang Pack. Someone who can get close to Alpha Silvain himself and discover the truth."

"You want a spy," Marina said flatly.

"We want you."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Marina looked around the table, seeing determination in every face. They had already decided. This meeting was merely a formality.

"Why me?" she asked, though she knew this answer too.

"Your hybrid nature makes you unique," Moonseer explained. "You carry both Silvermoon and Shadowpaw blood. You can manipulate shadows in ways pure Silvermoon wolves cannot. And..." She hesitated.

"And I am expendable," Marina finished bitterly. "If I fail, if I am caught, the pack loses nothing important. A hybrid who never quite belonged anyway."

"That is not..." Brightpaw began, but Thornwhisper cut her off.

"That is partially true," the Alpha admitted. "But it is also true that you are our best chance. You are beautiful, Marina. You know you are. Your unusual coloring, your hybrid magic, your voice..." She meant Marina's strange ability to make her words persuasive, almost hypnotic when she chose. "You have gifts that could catch an Alpha's attention."

"You want me to seduce him." Marina's voice was hollow. "Get him to trust me, share his secrets, welcome me into his den and his bed. Then betray him."

"We want you to save your pack," Thornwhisper corrected. "If Silvain is behind the poisonings, he must be stopped. If he is not..." She spread her hands. "Then you can return home, and we will look elsewhere for answers."

"And if he discovers what I am? If he realizes I am a spy?"

Silence fell over the Council. They all knew the answer. Bloodfang justice was swift and brutal. She would die screaming.

"There is one more thing," Moonseer said quietly. She reached into her robes again and withdrew a small vial of silver liquid. "You are mated to Ragnar Strikefast of the Shadowpaw Pack."

Marina's hand instinctively went to her shoulder, where Ragnar's mate mark burned beneath her clothing. "Yes. For two years now."

"You will need to sever that bond." Moonseer set the vial on the table. "Silvain will sense another wolf's claim on you immediately. This potion will break the mate bond. It will be..." She searched for words. "Unpleasant."

Unpleasant. Marina almost laughed at the understatement. Breaking a mate bond was like tearing out a piece of your soul. The pain was said to be worse than silver burns, worse than a forced shift, worse than anything except death itself.

And Ragnar. Gods, Ragnar. He would be furious. Their mating had not been a love match, more a political alliance between two outcasts, two hybrids who found comfort in each other's similar positions. But he was possessive of what he considered his. He would never let her go willingly.

"How long do I have to decide?" Marina asked.

"The Blood Moon Hunt is in three days," Thornwhisper said. "It is the sacred ceremony where unmated Bloodfang wolves seek their partners. You will need to be there, unmated and available, if this is to work." She leaned forward. "I am sorry, Marina. I know this is asking for more than anyone should have to give. But we are desperate. Our pups are dying. Will you do this?"

Marina looked at each Council member in turn. She saw fear in their eyes, and hope, and that particular ruthlessness that came from protecting one's own. They would send her into danger without hesitation if it meant saving Silvermoon pups.

She thought of the small body in the clearing, cooling in the frost. She thought of the mother's howls of anguish. She thought of seventeen dead children and the promise of more to come.

"I will do it," she heard herself say. "I will spy on Alpha Silvain. I will get close to him, learn his secrets, and discover if he is behind the plague." She picked up the vial of silver liquid, feeling its weight in her palm. "And if he is, I will find a way to stop him."

Relief washed across the Council's faces. Thornwhisper actually smiled.

"Thank you, Marina. The pack is in your debt."

But as Marina left the Council Den, clutching the mate bond breaking potion in her hand, she felt no pride. Only a creeping sense of dread that whispered she had just agreed to her own destruction.

She did not know how right she was.

In the shadows at the edge of the clearing, a pair of cold, calculating eyes watched her leave. Obsidian Nightprowl, Alpha of the Shadowpaw Pack, had heard every word through his spy on the Council. He smiled slowly, his mind already working through the implications.

If Marina succeeded in seducing Silvain Redthorn, it would destabilize the Bloodfang Pack from within. If she failed and was killed, it would give him justification to move against Bloodfang for executing a Shadowpaw blooded wolf. Either way, the larger packs would be weakened.

And weakness was opportunity.

He faded back into the darkness, already planning his next move in a game far more complex than the Silvermoon Council could imagine.

The plague had been his creation, after all. And it was working even better than he had hoped.