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The Edge of the Void
Last Updated:
2025-08-05 03:31:53
Latest chapter
The White Wolf Luna Where Wolves Do Not Walk
There was no impact.Fenric did not hit the ground. He did not crash through air. There was no sense of descent, no fall, no motion at all. One breath followed the next, but the rhythm felt wrong, as though his lungs were responding to a sky that no longer followed the same rules as the world above. He did not float, he did not drop, he simply moved through something that felt like air without memory.Then came the sound.It was not wind, nor breath, nor the quiet churn of time within stone. It was a heartbeat, slow and massive, not in his chest but in the space around him, pulsing through what seemed to be walls yet felt more like ribs, as though the very place he had entered had once been a body, long dead, long buried, and only now remembering that it had once been alive.Light arrived next.Not a firelight. Not moonlight. A pale golden wash that crept in from nowhere and illuminated everything with a kind of clarity that had no warmth. There was no clear source, only brightness th
The White Wolf Luna The Hall of the Forgotten
The stairs spiraled downward, far deeper than any foundation stone of the Den should have allowed. Each step echoed dully, not against stone, but against something far denser walls that absorbed sound as though they were built not to guide wolves, but to keep them from hearing what waited below.There was no light beyond what Sira conjured, and even that seemed hesitant, casting more shadow than clarity. Her silverlight flickered against the narrow walls, revealing old carvings, but these were not glyphs. They were symbols, layered, overlapping, some scratched out violently and others etched with a reverence that defied time. And between them all, over and over, a single repeating mark: a broken crescent, fractured through the middle.Fenric recognized it instantly. It was the mark Syra had once traced in the air with her fingertip, the one she claimed to have been born beneath, the one the Elders never spoke of.The Mark of the Moon Before.They reached the bottom at last.The air wa
The White Wolf Luna The Door Beneath the Bone
The night that followed the Reclaiming was not one of rest or celebration, but of unease so deep it seemed to reach beneath the soil itself. There was no wind, no movement of clouds, no rustle of leaves or branches, as though the entire land was holding its breath, waiting for the consequences of truth to unfold. The moon, which should have cast silver over the stones outside the Den, did not rise. Hidden behind a dense veil of smoke and distant mountain fire, it offered no blessing, no light, no omen. And that silence, that stillness, that lack of anything to guide or answer, became the omen itself.Fenric did not sleep.Long after the circle disbanded and the last of the blood had been absorbed into the centerstone, he remained in the chamber, seated with his back straight and eyes fixed on the cold embers of the extinguished fire. His hands rested quietly on his knees, palms up, as if still bearing the weight of the names he had spoken. There was no strength left in his shoulders,
The White Wolf Luna The Blood That Answers
The snowline had not yet receded, and the high passes remained jagged with ice, but still the old ones came.They moved without ceremony, without escort, without allegiance. Some came in fives, others alone. Scarred jaws, white-rimmed eyes, hides mottled with the pigment of generations lost—these were not Alphas nor emissaries, not declared leaders of any Pack. They were older than those titles. They were wolves who had never answered to the Cycle, and whose bloodlines were unrecorded in any archive the Elders had permitted to survive.They came because the mark had returned.They came because something ancient was stirring again.And because the line had finally been drawn in truth, not in metaphor.Fenric stood at the mouth of the gathering den, his shoulders taut and bare, breath steaming in the mountain air, as the final of the old ones approached. Her fur was the color of peatstone, her eyes the same green as thawed lakewater, and when she spoke, her voice carried not through vol
The White Wolf Luna The First Reclaiming
The first challenge came before the sun rose.The wolves from Ashfen Hollow arrived in silence, their presence announced not by howls or calls but by the sudden disappearance of birdsong, the vanishing of small forest things, and the unmistakable shift in the wind that always came before confrontation. They wore no banners, bore no signal of alliance, and yet the way they moved tight, coordinated, eyes always scanning for the slightest wrongness marked them as soldiers of an old order that had not yet accepted its death.Fenric stood at the edge of the Den, the last of the ash still clinging to his boots from the chamber below, his body stilled not by hesitation but by calculation, because even without speaking to them he could see that they had not come to listen. They had come to weigh.And wolves who weigh before they speak are rarely here for peace.Sira was the first to step beside him, her silverlight restrained, her expression unreadable, her voice quiet enough to be private bu
The White Wolf Luna Names in the Ash
The wall groaned open.Dust rolled out first, dry and bitter, carrying the scent of old bone and long-dead fire. Then Fenric emerged. His boots were coated in ash, his shoulders squared. He didn’t speak right away. He didn’t have to.They knew.Kaela moved to him first, her eyes on his face, not his hands. “What did you find?”Fenric looked past her, toward the Elders who had not moved from their seats.Then he turned toward the wolves gathered at the Den’s entrance. Dozens now. More arriving. Some with markings of far-off territories. Some, unaligned. All watching.He held out a single strip of bark, dried and dark, its surface carved with deep, deliberate symbols.“The names,” he said. “The ones they erased.”Raelin stepped forward. “How many?”Fenric didn’t blink. “Three hundred and twelve. From the First Cycle alone.”Silence broke across the Den like a cracked bone.Sira stepped to his side, reading the list with him. Her silverlight flickered, steady now, not for defense, but il
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