The storm had not eased when Morven finally arrived at the northern palace, drenched and exhausted from the ride through the winding forest paths. Lightning lit the sky in jagged flashes, illuminating the palace spires and the anxious faces of the guards who met him at the gate.
"Morven," King Kaelen greeted him as he entered the grand hall, his voice tight with worry. "What news do you bring?"
The shaman's gnarled hands gripped his staff, rain dripping from the carved wood. His eyes, sharp and piercing despite his age, flicked around the hall. Even the youngest members of the clan—sons and daughters of hunters and warriors—stood rigid, sensing the storm's strange energy.
"The land trembles," Morven said, his voice low, carrying over the roar of the storm. "The air is thick with unrest. Animals flee their paths, rivers swell beyond reason, and the winds carry a pulse… an old pulse. Something moves that should not move."
Kaelen's fists clenched at his sides. "Something moves? What do you mean? What is it?"
Morven shook his head slowly. "I cannot name it. The threads are tangled and dark, but I sense the balance is breaking. It is subtle, but it is growing. Something… dangerous approaches, though I cannot yet see its face."
Queen Lyra stepped forward, her youthful yet centuries-old face pale under the candlelight. "How can we prepare if we do not know what it is?"
Morven's gaze met hers. "Preparation alone may not be enough. We must watch, we must feel, and we must act with caution. The storm is a warning. The forest whispers of it, but even the strongest senses cannot see the full truth."
Kaelen ran a hand through his wet hair. "Then we watch everything—the borders, the forests, the rivers. Send scouts, alert the hunters. We cannot ignore this. Not now."
Morven nodded. "I will stay, and I will advise. But know this—the unrest is not limited to our lands. It moves across the realms. The fae will feel it. The vampires will feel it. And soon, all will know the shadow that stirs."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "Then we cannot falter. If something is coming… we will meet it prepared."
Outside, the storm raged on, relentless. The howl of the wind mixed with the roar of thunder, and the forests quaked under its fury. Even the palace walls seemed to shiver with the unnatural energy that spread through the lands.
The shaman's eyes darkened. "This is only the beginning. The thread of danger is already loose, and it will reach us in ways none can anticipate. Watch closely, alpha… and pray it spares us long enough to respond."
Kaelen swallowed hard, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He glanced at Lyra, whose hand rested lightly on his arm. Neither of them could shake the sense of impending disaster.
And far below the roots of Thalorien, unseen by all, something that had been sealed for centuries flexed its long-dormant limbs. A predator awake. Patient. Hidden.
The storm raged on, connecting the lands in a thread of restless, unspoken fear.