Chapter 18

"Wolves just go pale when they die; I haven't heard of them burning before." The air of dangerous uncertainty that had come with the appearance of charred bodies had Carlyle uneasy.

Lucian sat with his attention transfixed on the long arrows on his table, which had been retrieved from the bodies of his fallen men. The arrowheads were silver but absurdly conical, with a few unintelligible inscriptions on them.

"What could those possibly mean?" Carlyle stood behind Lucian, asking about the inscriptions.

"Enchanted silver." That was the only possibility there could be. "I never knew they existed in reality." He held up the arrow in his left hand and tried feeling the arrowhead with his right hand. The arrowhead sizzled his flesh instantaneously. He slowly withdrew his right hand, still holding the arrow's wooden body with his left.

"Who could possibly be behind this?"

Lucian was silent. He couldn't seem to have an answer to that. As the Alpha and leader, he had to shoulder the responsibi