The silence inside the chamber was absolute.
Ares stood at the threshold, his breath shallow, heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum. The air was stale but breathable—filtered through ancient systems still faintly humming beneath the stone. Kael stepped beside him, eyes scanning the darkness ahead.
"Move slow," Kael murmured. "We don't know what we're walking into."
The rest of the pack followed cautiously, torches casting long shadows across the curved walls. The architecture was unlike anything Ares had ever seen—smooth, seamless surfaces that seemed grown rather than built. Strange symbols pulsed along the walls in rhythmic patterns, as if responding to their presence.
"This isn't just a ruin," one of the younger wolves whispered. "It's alive."
Ares nodded. He could feel it too—a resonance in his chest, a pull deep within his mind. The deeper they went, the stronger it became.
They passed through a series of narrow corridors before emerging into a vast chamber. At its center stood an enormous monolith—tall, obsidian-black, etched with glowing runes. Suspended above it was a sphere of shifting light, rotating slowly, casting soft illumination across the room.
Ares stepped forward instinctively.
Kael grabbed his arm. "Wait."
But it was too late.
The moment Ares crossed the threshold of the chamber, the sphere flared with blinding intensity. A pulse of energy surged outward, knocking several wolves off their feet. The symbols on the walls ignited, forming intricate patterns that danced like fireflies in the dark.
Then came the voice.
Not spoken aloud—but echoing directly into their minds.
"You are the Echo. You have returned."
Ares staggered back, clutching his head. The others dropped to their knees, overwhelmed by the sheer force of the presence pressing into them.
"What the hell was that?" Renn growled, rising unsteadily.
"I don't know," Ares admitted, panting. "But it knows me."
The monolith shimmered, and suddenly, images began to unfold in the air—visions of a world long gone. Towering cities carved into red cliffs. Beings with elongated limbs and luminous eyes, moving with grace and power. And then… conflict.
The vision shifted.
Werewolves.
No—not just any werewolves. Their ancestors.
Clad in armor forged from Martian stone, standing alongside the Martians themselves.
And then came the fall.
A great war. Explosions tearing through the sky. The Martians fleeing—or vanishing entirely. The last image lingered: a single figure, half-human, half-beast, standing alone amidst the ruins of a dying world.
Then the light faded.
Silence returned.
Ares turned to Kael, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were created to survive this place. We weren't born here—we were made for it."
Kael's expression was unreadable. "Made by who?"
Ares looked back at the monolith. "By them."
---
Elsewhere – Human Settlement Alpha-7
Dr. Sophia Patel sat in the dim glow of her lab's secure terminal, fingers flying over the keyboard. She had decrypted part of the alien text using cross-referenced linguistic algorithms and found something chilling:
"The First Ones seeded life upon Mars. When the stars fell, only the Guardians remained."
She stared at the screen, heart pounding.
Guardians.
That was what the Martians called them.
Werewolves.
Not monsters. Not beasts.
Protectors.
She leaned back, rubbing her temples. If this was true, then everything humanity believed about werewolves was wrong. They weren't anomalies or threats—they were the key to Mars itself.
A notification chimed on her console.
Incoming message.
FROM: Earth Federation Intelligence Division
SUBJECT: Immediate Recall
MESSAGE: Cease all unauthorized research. Return to Earth for debriefing. Further interference will be considered treason.
Sophia exhaled sharply.
They knew.
And they were afraid.
She closed the message and opened a new file labeled Project Lycan: Phase II.
There was no turning back now.
---
Meanwhile – Human Council Chamber
Inside the domed council hall of Alpha-7, tensions were reaching a boiling point.
Representatives from the major human settlements gathered around a circular table, faces tense, voices raised.
"We cannot allow this to continue," one official declared. "Rogue werewolves attacked our outpost near Noctis Labyrinthus. Casualties were high."
"They claim it wasn't their people," another countered. "Only rogue factions."
"That doesn't matter!" the first snapped. "If they can't control their own kind, then we must take action."
Council Leader Elias Voss, a tall man with silver hair and piercing eyes, raised a hand for silence.
"The Federation has issued martial law protocols," he said calmly. "We have authorization to deploy orbital strike teams if necessary."
Gasps filled the chamber.
"You mean war?" someone asked.
Voss's gaze was cold. "I mean order."
Outside, the wind howled again.
Another storm was coming.
This time, not of dust—but of blood.
---
Back Beneath Olympus Mons
Ares and the pack emerged from the ruins hours later, shaken but determined.
Kael led them out into the open, where the crimson moon bathed the landscape in eerie light.
"What do we do now?" one of the elders asked.
Kael looked at Ares. "What does the Echo say?"
Ares hesitated. The knowledge burned within him—the truth of their origins, the purpose they had forgotten. But speaking it aloud meant changing everything.
He took a breath.
"We unite," he said. "Before they come for us."
Kael nodded once. Then turned to the others.
"All loyal packs must gather. We must prepare for what's coming."
Renn stepped forward. "And if they come before we're ready?"
Ares met his gaze.
"Then we fight."