Chapter 1 — Whispers in Fangshade Forest

Scarlett Everine

The damp chill of Fangshade Forest clung to Scarlett’s skin like an unwelcome second layer, each breath tasting of moss and decay. The thick canopy above twisted and knotted itself into a barrier against the moonlight, allowing only faint, silvery beams to pierce the shadows. Even those fractured glimpses of light felt unnatural, distorted by the residual magic seeping from the forest floor and twisting the world into something alien. Scarlett’s boots struck uneven ground—not the soft loam she remembered from before the balance broke, but now a patchwork of gnarled roots and blood-red fungi, pulsating faintly as if alive.

She didn’t dare slow.

The rhythmic thud of her boots against the earth was accompanied by the whirring hum of technology closing in behind her—the telltale sound of the mage-hunters’ drones. Scarlett kept her breathing steady, forcing herself to focus on the terrain ahead rather than the tightening knot of fear in her chest. Her muscles burned from hours of running, each step demanding more from her body than it seemed willing to give. Yet she pushed on, weaving between the skeletal trees as their bark, marked by faintly glowing runes, seemed to watch her.

Ahead, the forest shifted; a pale mist curled across the ground, obscuring her path. Scarlett skidded to a halt, amber eyes scanning the area for danger. The mist exuded a faint luminescence, swirling unnaturally around her legs. Her hand instinctively brushed the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh, its worn leather grip grounding her momentarily.

A flicker at the edge of her vision made her heart lurch. She spun, but there was nothing—just the forest, dark and still. Then it came, faintly, the howl.

It wasn’t real.

She knew that as surely as she knew her name. Scarlett’s pack had been dead for years. Yet the sound—the deep, mournful call of a wolf in pain—sent shivers down her spine. It was too vivid, too raw, to dismiss as imagination. Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms as she fought the rising panic.

“Not now,” she muttered under her breath, her voice sharp, defiant. “I don’t have time for this.” The sarcasm tasted bitter on her tongue, but it steadied her.

Scarlett pressed forward, determined to outrun both her hunters and the ghosts that haunted her. But the forest had other plans. The runes on the trees began to pulse in rhythm with her racing heartbeat, their soft light sharpening into a harsh glow. Her blood reacted to the magic in the air—she could feel it, a hot, tingling sensation coursing through her veins. It was the same feeling she’d been running from for years, the same power that had turned her into a target.

Her blood wasn’t just magic-tinged—it was something worse, something unnatural. And now, it was betraying her.

A sharp crack sounded behind her, followed by the unmistakable hiss of a drone. Scarlett cursed under her breath and darted to the left, slipping between two massive tree trunks just as a bolt of energy scorched the air where she’d stood moments before. The smell of burnt wood and metal filled her nostrils, but she didn’t stop.

The drones weren’t the only problem. The hunters themselves couldn’t be far now. Their machines were precise, but their determination to capture her—to use her blood for their experiments—was what truly made them dangerous. She’d seen it in their eyes before: the cold, calculating hunger for power that erased conscience.

Scarlett’s mind flickered to the rumors she’d heard. Captured werewolves drained of blood, their magic siphoned to fuel weapons and experiments. The thought turned her stomach, igniting a spark of renewed energy in her faltering steps. She would die before she let them have her blood.

The ground beneath her feet sloped suddenly downward, and Scarlett stumbled, catching herself on an outstretched branch. The mist thickened, and her vision blurred, whether from exhaustion or something more sinister, she couldn’t tell. She paused for a fraction of a second, leaning against a tree as her chest heaved.

That’s when she saw it: the flash of movement through the fog. A figure, limping and shadowed by the forest’s gloom. For a heartbeat, she thought it was one of her packmates—her mind cruelly conjuring the image of a familiar face. But as the figure turned and melted into the mist, she knew it was nothing more than another illusion.

Her throat tightened, the grief she’d buried so deeply clawing its way to the surface. They’re gone. They’re not coming back. She bit the inside of her cheek until the pain chased away the thoughts. There was no time to grieve. Not now.

Scarlett pushed herself upright and stumbled forward. Her legs screamed in protest, but she ignored them, focusing on the sound of rushing water in the distance. A ravine—she remembered it from her last pass through this cursed forest. It would be dangerous, but it was her only chance to lose the hunters.

The hum of a drone grew louder, and Scarlett ducked instinctively, just as a second bolt of energy seared over her head. She could feel the heat of it against her skin, the acrid scent of scorched air filling her lungs. Her hand went to her dagger, fingers tightening around the hilt. If they caught her, she wouldn’t make it easy for them.

The ground shifted again, the incline becoming steeper as the ravine’s edge loomed ahead. Scarlett’s vision sharpened as adrenaline surged through her, the faintly glowing runes on the trees now pulsing in time with a quiet hum she couldn’t block out. Her blood responded, the tingling heat intensifying until it felt like fire coursing through her veins.

Ahead, the tree line broke, revealing the jagged edge of the ravine. Scarlett hesitated for a split second, calculating the distance to the other side. It was far—too far—but there was no turning back now.

Behind her, the sound of footsteps broke through the hum of the drones. The hunters were close, their shouts muffled by the mist.

Scarlett took a deep breath, her muscles coiling as she prepared to jump. The ground beneath her feet trembled, the runes on the trees flaring brightly one last time. Her blood pulsed violently, stoking an unbidden surge of energy that she couldn’t fully control.

Then she leapt.

For a terrifying moment, she was weightless, the void beneath her yawning wide. She could hear the rush of the river far below, its roar a reminder of what waited if she failed. Her fingers stretched out, desperate for purchase, and she barely managed to catch the crumbling edge of the opposite side.

Her body slammed against the rocky outcrop, the impact jarring her bones. Gritting her teeth, Scarlett hauled herself up, her arms trembling with the effort. Behind her, she heard the sound of rock crumbling—one of the hunters had attempted to follow, but the unstable ground gave way beneath him. His scream echoed briefly before the river below silenced it.

Scarlett didn’t look back.

She dragged herself into the cover of the trees, her limbs shaking and lungs burning. The drones had lost sight of her for now, but it wouldn’t be long before the hunters found another way across. She needed to keep moving.

The forest seemed to shift around her, the runes on the trees fading back into their dormant state. Scarlett stumbled into a small clearing, her legs giving out as she collapsed against the base of a stone altar covered in ancient markings.

The symbols carved into the altar glowed faintly, their patterns mesmerizing in the dim light. Scarlett’s blood reacted instantly—she could feel the heat rising in her veins again, could hear the faint whisper of voices she couldn’t understand. Before she could stop herself, her fingers brushed the surface of the altar.

A vision overtook her.

She saw flashes of a world she didn’t recognize—a world where mages, werewolves, and humans stood together in unity. She saw the creation of an artifact, glowing with a power that seemed at once soothing and terrifying. She saw the hands of its creators—joined in a ritual that pulsed with life and balance, and then... she saw its destruction. The balance it had maintained unraveled into chaos, the world fracturing as greed and distrust poisoned the alliance.

The vision ended as abruptly as it began, leaving Scarlett gasping for air. Her head throbbed, and her pulse raced, but one thing was clear: the artifact, the Aegis Core, was tied to her blood—and to the answers she so desperately sought.

She glanced up, squinting through the trees at the distant silhouette of the Ironfang Mountains. Somewhere within those peaks lay the ruins of Eldwynd Temple, the place the vision had shown her.

Scarlett forced herself to her feet, gripping the hilt of her dagger for support. She couldn’t stop now.

Behind her, the faint hum of drones began to rise again, accompanied by the sound of distant shouts. The hunters were regrouping.

Scarlett set her jaw, her amber eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. She had a destination now. A purpose.

Let them come.