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หน้าหลัก / Werewolf / THE LAST SHIFT: A Werewolf without a Wolf / CHAPTER 113: The Breaking Boughs

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CHAPTER 113: The Breaking Boughs

ผู้เขียน: Myra TUC
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2025-09-17 15:42:15

The hollow walls glowed faint with the last shivers of flame, veins of gold threading through cracks like fragile lifelines. Smoke curled along the ridge mouth, clinging to the stone, a bitter veil that stung my throat. Outside, the forest shifted with the weight of something vast, something ancient. It had not fled. It was gathering.

I felt it in my marrow, the hush before a storm, the heaviness of air pressed down by the promise of ruin. The roots had retreated, but not in surrender. In strategy.

Kieran slumped in my arms, his forehead damp against my cheek. His ember still pulsed, faint and uneven, but alive. That was enough to anchor me, even as my own arms shook beneath his weight.

The girl crouched by the wall, her blood-slick hands pressed hard to her side. She was pale, trembling, but her eyes did not leave the glow in Kieran’s chest. “It’s not finished,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “It never stops with roots. When the fire cuts them back, the forest sends the boughs.”

I turn
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  • THE LAST SHIFT: A Werewolf without a Wolf    CHAPTER 121: What Survives

    The silence after fire was not empty.It was full.The hollow no longer groaned with rot, no longer pressed with suffocation, no longer carried the Root-Heart’s voice gnawing against marrow. Instead, it pulsed with something quieter, steadier, the hush of a forest remembering how to breathe.Ash drifted like slow snow. Each flake shimmered, caught in the rising light, before it sank into soil and vanished. Where it landed, moss stirred, vines reached, saplings unfurled tiny fingers of green. Life was not waiting, it was already coming back, cautious but insistent, the way wounds stitch themselves closed when the bleeding finally stops.The air still smelled of smoke, sharp and bitter, but underneath it something else stirred; rain, earth, resin, the scent of things mending.But the forest was not the only thing changed.Kieran stood before me, still wreathed in white fire. Yet the longer I looked, the less it looked like fire at all. It no longer flared or consumed, it drifted, soften

  • THE LAST SHIFT: A Werewolf without a Wolf    CHAPTER 120: The Breath of the Forest

    The dawn did not wait for us.It poured through the ruptured ceiling in rivers of light, striking the hollow’s ash until every grain shimmered like embers cooling on a hearth. The air smelled of both smoke and rain, scorched ruin and newborn earth. It was dissonant, fragile as though the world itself wasn’t sure yet whether it had died or been reborn.The forest exhaled.Branches high above cracked like bones being set right, groaning as they bent toward the sun. Leaves quivered, brittle at first, then softened with green as sap surged back into them. The ground heaved beneath us, roots loosening their grip, no longer strangling stone but releasing it.Kieran’s fire flared in response. Not as an attack, or as destruction, but as a language. The white blaze around us thinned, stretched, poured itself like threads of light into the cracks of bark, into the marrow of roots that had been blackened with the Root-Heart’s poison. Where it touched, rot receded. Where it lingered, life returne

  • THE LAST SHIFT: A Werewolf without a Wolf    CHAPTER 119: Ash and Dawn

    The hollow broke in its very breath. The cavern’s ceiling cracked open as if the earth itself had grown weary of harboring rot. Splinters of light spilled through fissures above, pale and trembling, like dawn remembered after endless night.The Root-Heart thrashed. What was left of its body convulsed, roots clawing into its own walls for purchase. Its once-immortal voice fractured, collapsing in on itself, a thousand syllables slurring into nothing more than a gasp.No… I am the first seed… the marrow of earth…The white fire did not answer. It consumed as answer. Each thread of flame unwound the Root-Heart’s claim, stripped it of its false eternity, until what remained wasn’t enemy, terror, or god… just a hollow knot of wood and sap, ancient but mortal at last.And still Kieran’s grip did not falter. His fire was not wild anymore; it was certain. His wings… our wings… beat slowly, steady, and relentlessly. They did not rage.The Root-Heart collapsed inward. Its sphere cracked in hal

  • THE LAST SHIFT: A Werewolf without a Wolf    CHAPTER 118: The Fire-Born

    The world did not end.It remade itself around us.The light that poured from the shattered ember was not fire as I had ever known it. It wasn’t heat or hunger, it was creation unchained. White flame flooded the hollow, each thread singing like a thousand voices braided into one, each flare carrying memory older than stone. It raced through me, through Kieran, through every crack the Root-Heart had driven into us, until I no longer knew where my body ended and the fire began.The forest screamed.Roots writhed against the blaze, their sap boiling black, their armor splintering to ash. The Root-Heart recoiled, its vast sphere quivering, veins bursting in sprays of steaming ichor. Shadows scattered like insects in a flood.And in the center of it all, Kieran’s hand gripped mine, no longer weak. His skin burned like molten gold beneath my palm, his breath no longer ragged but thunderous. His eyes snapped open, and the gold inside them was gone, replaced by fire so pure it made me flinch.

  • THE LAST SHIFT: A Werewolf without a Wolf    CHAPTER 117: The Ember’s Shatter

    The hollow shook as though the earth itself recoiled from the Root-Heart’s fury. Its sphere throbbed, vast and merciless, every pulse a hammer driving into my chest. Roots writhed in endless cascades, walls of living wood clawing toward us, their tips splitting into jagged teeth slick with sap. Each breath carried the stench of rot so thick it coated my tongue.The ember inside Kieran blazed in answer, but it wavered. The firestorm that had roared only moments before now guttered, sparks instead of flame, a shield too thin to keep back the tide. Sweat burned down my face, though I knew it wasn’t mine alone, the heat pouring from us had fused our pain into one.“Kieran… ” My voice broke against the roar of splitting stone. I pressed harder to his chest, feeling the ember shiver like a trapped heart. “It’s too much. It’s breaking us.”His breath was shallow and thin, but his hand, gods, his hand still found mine; weak fingers, but steady in intent. His lashes lifted, and through the haz

  • THE LAST SHIFT: A Werewolf without a Wolf    CHAPTER 116: The Root-Heart’s Wrath

    It rose like a world being born.The sphere of roots swelled from the abyss, twisting and writhing, its every pulse cracking stone, bending the very air as though reality strained to contain it. Veins of green and black sap pulsed across its tangled surface, thick as rivers, glowing faint like veins lit from within. It was not just a body, it was a heartbeat made flesh, a soul given form. At its center, a hollow knot yawned open, an eye without sight, a mouth without lips, a wound that seemed to breathe.The Root-Heart’s voice scraped through marrow and thought alike, reverberating inside me until my knees buckled and the breath left my lungs.Fire-thieves. Ash-bringers. Return what you stole… or be devoured.The words weren’t sound. They were law, carved into the bones of the world. My body quaked against their weight.The girl sobbed against the wall, her prayers breaking into screams. “It’s awake… it’s awake… we’re dead… we’re all dead… ”Her panic faded into a distant hum. I could

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