Novel & Cerita Fernsong Warriors

I heard the sound of the horn, signifying the commencement of the festival, I took my clothes heading out. I got to the meeting ground, the Alphas were present, and my eyes settled on Nova who was a bit away from everyone. She wasn't looking my way. Elena arrived with her attendants, they were dressed in purple, indicating a glowing splint. "We shall head to the sacred site now," Elena said. "Blow the final horn before we leave," She told her attendant who blew it instantly. We were about to leave when Fenrir came in exchanging glances with everyone.

“If you stray, I’ll drag you back myself.” Before she could respond, a horn split the air, sharp, urgent. Every warrior stiffened. The rogues had arrived. From the treeline, shadows spilled forth. Dozens of them, wild-eyed and snarling, their forms half-shifted, claws gleaming in the moonlight. Unlike Theron’s warriors, they bore no order, no discipline. They were chaos wrapped in flesh, driven by Evander’s iron grip. Theron’s warriors shifted in unison, bones cracking, fur bursting forth in waves of grey, black, and tawny gold. The sound filled the air, primal and raw.

“Scholars who ask the wrong questions get locked out. Or worse.” Isabelle opened the folio slowly. Inside: faded illustrations of rituals, firelit gatherings, a sigil that matched the locket’s flame-and-thorn motif. She looked up. “The Keeper of Ashes is a society of women… but this—this is something older.” He nodded. “The Keepers weren’t just guardians. They were conduits. Protectors of something ancient. Something the city tried to erase.” She stared at the last page. A prophecy. “When the embers stir in a daughter’s veins,

Jade blurted out before she could stop herself. Jin seemed surprised for a moment, but then, burst out in laughter. He winked at Jade and whispered, “Old enough.” Embarrassed, Jade tried to find something to distract herself. And to avoid looking at Jin. “What do you think?” Jin said, breaking the silence. Finally getting over her shame, Jade cleared her throat and tried to look serious. “How?” “There is a legend around here… About the four Holy Beasts responsible for protecting the four kingdoms—”

I turned toward the sound, my instincts kicking in. There, at the edge of the clearing, stood Fenriz, battered but defiantly alive. He was a vision of rage and power, his eyes glinting with malevolence. “You think you can rid the world of me so easily?” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. Panic surged through me. “He’s alive!” I shouted, my heart pounding. “Everyone, to me!” The warriors quickly regrouped, forming a protective circle around me as they readied their weapons. Fenriz’s presence was like a dark cloud descending upon us, his power undeniable even in his weakened state.

Below us, the valleys were choked with the grey-white fog of a winter that refused to end, and through that fog, I could hear the rhythmic, terrifying thunder of Ten Thousand Paws. The High Council hadn't sent soldiers in suits. They had unleashed the Feral-Sins—the wolves who had been stripped of their humanity centuries ago, kept in the dark of the West’s dungeons, fed only on the blood of their own kin. I stood at the edge of the precipice, my Sunset-Gold Fire rolling off my skin in waves of heat that melted the permafrost beneath my feet. My claws, elongated and obsidian-sharp, twitched with a hunger I hadn't felt since the first night I shifted in the Square.

Vampires can move swiftly and nimbly. Another problem was that a quarter of the warriors participating in the war today were young warriors with no experience in war. But Dafa couldn't show his anxiety in front of the warriors; he would ensure everything went according to their wishes. Ferin and his subordinates were standing ten meters away from them. Ferin smiled crookedly with eyes that looked around. A flash of memory came to mind when his father ordered him to kill humans who crossed the border between the Appalachia Forest and human settlements.

Unlike the regular warriors, visual illusions didn't fool the Ferals; they relied on scent and sound, following my commands perfectly. We pushed deeper into the camp, searching for any sign of Kael or Tobias. The sounds of battle surrounded us: metal clashing against metal, howls of pain and rage, the thud of bodies falling. Then, through a gap in the fighting, I spotted him, Kael, surrounded by what appeared to be his own warriors, yet something was wrong. They weren't protecting him but herding him toward a central tent where a tall figure stood watching. Finn. I changed course immediately, leading my Ferals toward the trap closing around Kael. As we drew closer, I began to sing, not the g

Arth said as he observed the men in the training field. “The Snowsong Alliance is originally composed of four sectors,” Edric began, then he jerked his head towards the men circling the fire from afar, “those warriors we passed by earlier belonged to the Mountain Fangs. They’re Viking warriors who lived in the far northern mountains of Glacia. A great friend to your father. They owe the late king for helping them reclaim their lands from the foreign settlers during his early reign.” “So I guess Ruby’s one of them?” “Ruby’s their representative as their chieftain’s daughter,” Edric sighed, “Sadly, they came with us to the Underworld with over thirty in numbers … but now cut down to twelve.”

The transformation heals some damage but not all—my leg is still fractured, my face still bleeding, my side torn open from claw wounds. “Jesus,” Fenris breathes, dropping to his knees beside me. “Arthur, your leg—” “I’ll heal. Give me a minute.” I lie there, breathing through the pain. Around us, five dead rogues litter the forest floor. “What the hell were those? I’ve never seen rogues that strong.” “I’ve heard stories of multiple alphas who went feral during the Southern wars. This might be some of them.” Fenris presses his hand to his bleeding shoulder. “They usually avoid people. Something must have driven them here.”