Chapter 142: Sovereigns of the Peak
The relief that followed the Harbinger's defeat was short-lived. As the Alpha and Omega stood in the quiet of the pack house, a new sound began to vibrate through the valley—a heavy, rhythmic thrumming that felt like the heartbeat of the mountains themselves. It wasn't the sound of feet on the ground, but of massive wings beating against the thin cold air of the high peaks.
The Alpha stepped onto the balcony, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward the jagged silhouettes of the northern mountains. "They didn't just send a messenger," he muttered, his hand tightening on the stone railing. "They sent the Sovereigns."
High above the clouds, three massive shapes circled the moon. They weren't just wolves; they were the Ancient Sovereigns of the Old Blood, creatures who had ruled the peaks before the first pack was even formed. They were the ones who had remained in the shadows for centuries, waiting for a moment of weakness to reclaim their throne.
"They aren't here to fight us," the Omega said, her voice filled with a sudden, chilling realization. She could feel the connection through the earth—a pull that felt like iron chains. "They are here for the source. They think the light we showed tonight belongs to them."
One of the shapes dived, a streak of obsidian feathers and silver fur that tore through the sky with a deafening shriek. It didn't land in the courtyard; it landed on the highest tower of the pack house, its weight causing the stone to crack and groan. Its eyes weren't amber like the Harbinger's—they were a piercing, crystalline blue that seemed to freeze everything they touched.
"Alpha of the New Blood," the Sovereign's voice rang out, sounding like a thousand glaciers shifting at once. "You have awakened a fire you cannot control. The Omega carries the spark of the First Dawn, a power that was stolen from the peaks eons ago. We have come to take back what is ours. Hand her over, and we shall spare the rest of your hollow kin."
The warriors in the courtyard raised their weapons, but the Alpha stepped forward, his own power flaring to match the Sovereign's cold aura. "You speak of theft," he countered, his voice a low, dangerous snarl. "But she is not an object to be claimed. She is the heart of this pack. If you want the spark, you'll have to go through the fire."
The sky turned a deep, bruised purple as the other two Sovereigns began their descent. The battle for the pack house was over, but the war for the soul of the world had just arrived at their doorstep.