The war had begun, but the first light of dawn did little to warm the land. Mist curled through the trees like restless spirits, and the air trembled with the anticipation of violence. Lorenzo's pack fanned out, muscles coiled, claws scraping against stone and earth, teeth bared in readiness. Every wolf felt the pulse of Elena's power through the bond, and even the youngest recruits could sense the shift in the world itself.
Elena stood at the center, her silver light steady despite the tension, a beacon against the encroaching darkness. Her eyes scanned the horizon, where shadows stretched unnaturally long, creeping with intent. The undead wolves moved like a tide, silent, relentless, their icy blue eyes burning with a hatred that belonged to neither life nor death.
Lorenzo's voice carried across the clearing, low, commanding. "Positions. Shields forward. No one leaves the line!" Every pack member stiffened at the order, instinct and loyalty warring with fear.
Marcus and Kieran flanked him, blood still drying on their fur, eyes sharp and scanning, weapons at the ready. "They're testing us," Marcus growled. "Every step they take… they want us divided. Don't give them that."
Elena lifted her hands slightly, letting the silver glow ripple outward like water, brushing against the edge of each wolf in the line, bolstering courage and clarity. "Hold your ground," she whispered, voice carrying even to the wolves too young to understand the bond. "Trust in each other. Trust in us. Trust in the Moon."
The undead wolves surged forward at that instant, a wave of decay and malice. Their jaws snapped, claws tore, and the earth shook beneath the assault. Yet every step met resistance. Every attack was countered. Steel clashed against unnatural flesh, wolf against horror, and still the living fought with a ferocity born of fear, loyalty, and love.
Lorenzo moved through them like a shadow of death, fangs bared, claws slicing with precision. He was not just Alpha,he was the storm incarnate, fueled by rage and devotion. Each undead wolf that dared to approach Elena was torn apart before it could even reach the line. His golden eyes burned like molten fire, scanning, calculating, protecting.
But the witch was not idle. Her laughter, bitter and sharp, drifted over the battlefield like smoke. "You cannot hold them forever," she hissed, her voice carried through the bond like a needle in the mind. "The White Wolf will fall. The Alpha will bleed. And I… will have my revenge."
Elena's silver light flared brighter, responding to the threat, threading into every wolf's essence. "She will not win," she said again, louder, stronger this time. The White Wolf within her was awake, fierce, and merciless, yet tempered by the bond she shared with Lorenzo. Every pulse of her power strengthened the line, every heartbeat linked the pack into one unbroken force.
The first undead wolf fell under her light, dissolving into ash mid-step. Another, and another. Their advance faltered, hesitation spreading like wildfire through their ranks. The witch's fury cracked like thunder across the mountains, her magic weaving, twisting, threatening to consume everything.
But the living were united. Packs who had once been rivals, enemies even, now fought as one under the pull of the White Wolf. Their howls echoed across valleys, their teeth and claws striking with precision and power, a symphony of living vengeance against death itself.
Lorenzo drew Elena close in the midst of the chaos, his hand brushing her hair back, golden eyes burning with pride and desire. "We'll face her together," he said, voice rough with emotion. "No matter what she brings."
She nodded, silver light pooling around her like armor, unwavering. "Together," she whispered. "Always."
And somewhere, beyond the horizon, the witch screamed again.
This was no ordinary battle.
This was a war that would shake the very foundations of the world.
And the Moon watched, patient, merciless, and eternal.