The next morning at the Guardian Pack, the air was thick with smoke and iron, the scent of old blood and new fear coating every breath.
The Khronwolf cult was no longer hiding in the shadows; they were building their shrine openly, their black banners with red claw marks fluttering in the cold dawn breeze.
It was a slap across the face of every pack elder who had once boasted of the Guardian Pack’s independence, their “strength.” Now they were nothing but spineless worms under the cult’s boots, kissing the ground for scraps.
Anyone who joined the cult found their day-to-day life ripped from them, replaced by strict schedules, sacrifices at dawn, chants at dusk, forced blood oaths that turned them into hollow-eyed puppets.
Their children learned the cult’s chants before they learned t
