The night air was cold and sharp, carrying the scent of distant forests. Shadowfang scouts had returned hours ago, their reports grim.
"Three packs," the lead scout reported. "Northern packs united under one council… approaching from the west ridge. They've been watching us for days."
Nyra's silver eyes narrowed. "Numbers?"
"Approximately two hundred warriors combined," the scout replied. "Weapons and Blood Moon lineage markings. They're organized, disciplined."
Kael's golden aura flared subtly as he crossed his arms. "Good. Let them see what Shadowfang is capable of."
Nyra placed a hand on his shoulder. "We strike smart, not recklessly. Their council may underestimate us if they think the Hollow King's defeat weakened us. They'll learn otherwise."
The western ridge was shrouded in mist as Nyra and Kael led a select unit of Shadowfang warriors to set traps, scout enemy movement, and prepare defensive positions.
Nyra whispered strategies under her breath:
Use high ground and terrain advantage.
Utilize stealth attacks with the young warriors for flanking.
Combine Kael's Alpha power with her Blood Moon magic for maximum disruption.
Protect the pack's heart — the elders, healers, and younglings — at all costs.
By the time the northern scouts emerged from the mist, Shadowfang was already in position. Silver runes glimmered faintly along the ridge edges, traps hidden in shadow, and warriors crouched silently, eyes locked on the approaching threat.
The first northern scouts appeared — tall, imposing wolves with ash-black fur and red Blood Moon lineage markings, weapons gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
Kael stepped forward, growling low. "This is your warning," he said. "Turn back now… or face Shadowfang."
The lead scout, a wolf with jagged scars across his face, hissed. "You are strong… but pride blinds you. Our council expects no mercy. Retreat, or be destroyed."
Nyra stepped beside Kael, silver aura flaring. "We will not retreat," she said firmly. "Shadowfang does not bow. Strike if you dare, and you will regret it."
A tense silence held for a heartbeat before the northern pack charged.
Kael erupted forward, Alpha flames streaking from his fur as he met the first wave head-on. Nyra raised her hands, casting silver lunar chains that bound and redirected enemy warriors, disrupting their advance.
The clash of claw, tooth, and magical energy ignited the ridge. Shadowfang warriors moved in perfect coordination, striking with precision trained over the past days.
Nyra's Blood Moon aura pulsed, ancestral spirits flickering behind her. Each attack was amplified, her enemies stumbling before her, disoriented by bursts of lunar energy.
Kael roared, leaping into the enemy's front lines with explosive power, scattering scouts and breaking formation. "No mercy for those who threaten our pack!" he shouted, golden flames colliding with enemy shadowed claws.
The battle intensified as northern leaders appeared, attempting to regroup their forces. Fenrir, arriving from his territory, joined Nyra and Kael's side with his own pack warriors, creating a pincer of surprise attacks.
"Keep the flanks covered!" Nyra commanded. "Do not let them reach the heart of our territory!"
The Blood Moon energy in her veins flared brighter, illuminating the ridge with silver light. The northern packs faltered under the sudden intensity — packs trained for open combat, not for a coordinated blend of Alpha power, lunar magic, and Spirit-guided precision.
Kael's claws ripped through enemy lines, while Nyra's chains immobilized key leaders. The ridge trembled with the ferocity of battle, wolves leaping, striking, and retreating in deadly fluid motion.
By dawn, the northern packs were in full retreat, their remaining warriors scattered and demoralized.
Kael landed heavily beside Nyra, panting but alive. "We sent a message," he said with a fierce grin.
Nyra nodded, silver aura dimming slightly as she caught her breath. "We are Shadowfang. We survive. We protect. And we are ready for anything that comes next."
The Blood Moon above rose to its zenith, casting silver light across the battlefield — a silent witness to Shadowfang's strength and the unbreakable bond of its leaders.