Chapter 67: The Return of the True King
The dust in the cavern settled as the moonlight fading from Elara's skin left a ghostly glow in the air. Valerius stood amidst the unconscious Enforcers, his crimson eyes fixed on the entrance. He could smell the forest again—the scent of pine, wet earth, and the unmistakable musk of a thousand wolves waiting in the dark.
"It's time," Valerius said, his voice no longer a rasp but a command that resonated with the very earth. "The world thinks I am a ghost. It's time to show them that ghosts can bleed... and they can kill."
Elara felt a wave of exhaustion hit her, but she refused to stumble. Kael caught her arm, his face pale with shock. "What you just did... the Council will call it heresy. They'll hunt us to the ends of the world."
"Let them try," Elara replied, her eyes flashing with a remnant of silver light. "We are finished with running."
As the three of them stepped out of the Forbidden Woods, they found themselves on a ridge overlooking the Silver Moon valley. Below them, torches flickered like angry fireflies. The pack was mobilized. At the center of the army stood Silas, his golden eyes searching the treeline with a mixture of agony and determination.
Valerius stepped onto the edge of the cliff and let out a howl. It wasn't the howl of a rogue or a common Alpha. It was the ancestral cry of the First-Born, a sound that hadn't been heard for five hundred years.
Down in the valley, every wolf froze. Silas's heart nearly stopped. The bond he shared with the pack felt a sudden, violent shift—as if the throne he sat upon was suddenly being claimed by its rightful owner.
"The war of lies ends tonight," Valerius declared, his voice carrying over the wind to every ear in the pack. "Silas! Your Luna has found the truth. Will you stand with the liars, or will you kneel before your blood?"