Chapter 119: The Race Against Betrayal
The news hit Silas like a physical blow. The Council of Elders—the very men who were supposed to be the keepers of their laws—had turned their backs on the Dawn when it was most vulnerable. Silas didn't waste a second. He let out a roar that echoed through the thawing valleys of the North, a call not just to his warriors, but to the land itself.
"We don't rest!" Silas commanded, his golden aura pulsing with a jagged, urgent light. "The Council thinks the distance is their shield. They think we are too exhausted to fight. Let's show them how wrong they are."
They ran as they had never run before. Elara felt the Moon-Oak's distress through her silver pulse; it was like a faint, rhythmic weeping in her mind. The tree was being choked, not by frost this time, but by ancient, dark rituals the Council was using to 'purify' the valley.
"They are trying to sever the connection, Silas," Elara gasped as they crossed the southern border. "If they cut the bond between the Bridge and the Tree, the Silver Covenant will shatter forever."
Fenris ran at their side, his face a mask of grim fury. "I spent years serving a Council that used fear as a weapon. I won't let them take the only home I have left."
As they reached the ridge overlooking their valley, the sight made them stop in horror. The Moon-Oak was surrounded by a ring of fire, and the Elders were chanting in the center, their staves glowing with a sickly, stagnant grey light. The pack members who remained loyal were being held at bay by the Council's elite guards.
"Enough!" Silas's voice thunderous as he leaped from the ridge, descending like a golden comet toward the center of the ritual.
The traitors looked up, their eyes widening in disbelief. They had expected a defeated Alpha, but what they saw was a King returning with the power of the North at his back.