Nightfall had settled like a suffocating blanket, and I stood atop the overpass, gripping a pair of binoculars with a tightness that matched the tension in my chest. Stoneclaw, a hulking presence beside me, was scanning the eastern horizon through his own pair. The night was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt alive, pregnant with the promise of violence. Even the usual nocturnal creatures had gone silent, as if they too sensed the danger lurking in the dark.
“Icetail, report. Anything on US-138?” Stoneclaw’s voice was a low growl over the com unit, every word laced with the readiness to pounce.
“No movement, sir. All clear for now,” came Icetail’s reply, crackling through the speaker, though it did little to soothe the knot in my gut.
“Stay sharp and alert me at the first sign of anything. No delays,” Stoneclaw ordered, his voice as hard as the steel of his binoculars.
I turned to look at him, noting the way his eyes had shifted to a glowing amber, cutting through the darkness like a predator’s gaze. The thick clouds overhead blotted out the moon, leaving us in a world of pitch black, where even shadows dared not move. It was unsettling, as if the night itself was holding its breath, waiting.
“Do you think they’ll come this far to attack?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might draw them in.
“With a night like this? Absolutely. We’re sitting on a goldmine of supplies and equipment. If I were them, I wouldn’t let this opportunity pass,” Stoneclaw responded, his tone matching the darkness around us—cold, calculating.
“Then why haven’t they attacked already?” I mused, more to myself than to him.
“They needed time. Time to regroup, assess. Two convoys in their territory within 24 hours? That’s unusual. They’ve been watching, waiting, and now they’re ready,” he explained, his eyes never leaving the horizon.
I brought my binoculars up again, trying to pierce the blackness ahead. Even with night vision, everything was a blur of shadows. I let out a frustrated huff and began to lower them when Stoneclaw tapped a button on my binoculars. Suddenly, the world was bathed in a green glow, and the once obscure landscape sharpened into focus.
“Whoa,” I breathed, a little too loudly, “I didn’t know these had night vision.”
“One of the perks of special forces. We get the best toys,” Stoneclaw replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“No kidding. This is a game changer,” I said, the unease in my chest shifting to a grim determination.
“Is everyone in position?” Stoneclaw’s voice dropped, taking on a more urgent edge.
“Yeah, they are. Why?” I asked, suddenly on high alert.
“Because I see dust trails,” he answered, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
I froze. “How far out?”
“Can’t tell yet. Get down there and get ready. This might be it,” he instructed, his voice as calm as a still pond, but I could hear the undercurrent of tension.
Without a second thought, I turned and sprinted down the side of the overpass, my feet barely touching the ground as I used my agility to keep from tumbling. I hit the bottom of the incline and bolted towards where Steve, Mac, and Pixiewolf were waiting. They were on their feet the second they saw me approaching.
“Is everything okay?” Steve asked, his voice tight with concern. “Stoneclaw just sent Raptor east.”
“The Hell Hounds are coming,” I said, the words feeling like stones in my mouth. “Get ready.”
Pixiewolf immediately relayed the information to Captain Bresden over the coms link Stoneclaw had provided. The camp stirred to life, the sound of bodies and gear shifting into place carried on the still air. I caught Steve’s eye and gave him a sharp nod, signaling him to shift. I turned away, letting the power of my magic surge through me, the transformation more a release than an effort. Silver fur erupted from my skin, muscles bulging and bones snapping into place as I grew into my wolf form. The loose sweats I’d donned earlier stretched to accommodate the change, hugging my newly expanded frame.
Glancing back at Mac, I motioned with my nose for her to climb on. She might have been a phoenix, but her transformation wasn’t built for stealth. With a rifle slung over her back, she scrambled onto me. Pixiewolf followed suit with Steve, and with a flick of my tail, we took off, the night air whistling past as we raced towards the fight.
We moved like shadows through the trees, the cover of night our ally as we kept just within the embrace of the forest. The old Golden State Wildlife Management Area loomed ahead, our intended ambush site where we would wait like predators in the dark. The Hell Hounds wouldn’t know what hit them. Above, the swoosh of wings signaled Raptor’s return, the sound barely audible over the growing rumble of engines in the distance.
“Positive sighting,” Stoneclaw’s voice crackled over the com link, every word a promise of imminent battle.
“Roger,” Pixiewolf replied, her voice tight with readiness.
I dug in, pushing my legs harder, faster. Mac flattened herself against my back, her grip on my fur tightening just as I vaulted over a fallen tree. I landed smoothly, the impact absorbed by years of practice, Star’s old training runs flashing through my mind. This was nothing new to me, but the stakes had never been higher.
Within moments, we reached the wildlife management area, ducking into the cover of the trees. Mac slid off my back, immediately crouching low as she brought the binoculars to her eyes. The night was alive with tension, the air thick with the scent of rain and the distant roar of engines. The first rumblings of a storm were punctuated by a jagged bolt of lightning that tore the sky apart, illuminating the convoy barreling down the highway. The sight of their vehicles, bristling with spikes, chains, and makeshift armor, was both grotesque and formidable.
The thunder that followed was deafening, a rolling boom that seemed to shake the very ground beneath us. Heavy raindrops began to pelt the earth, first a trickle, then a downpour, soaking us to the bone. But the rain did nothing to wash away the dread that settled in my gut as the Hell Hounds thundered by, oblivious to the hunters lurking in the shadows.
“Twenty vehicles, at least,” Mac whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding rain. “Four to a vehicle, minimum.”
“About a hundred Hell Hounds, maybe more,” I murmured, the realization settling like a stone in my stomach. This was an army, not just a raiding party.
“Major, radio Stoneclaw and Captain Bresden. We’re outnumbered three to one,” I ordered, keeping my voice low but firm.
“Crap…” Mac muttered, the gravity of the situation weighing on her.
“Yeah… Let’s move,” I replied, the urgency prickling at my skin.
Pixiewolf relayed the intel to the camp as we began to follow the convoy, keeping to the shadows. Suddenly, I felt Mac leap off my back. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to witness her transformation. Flames erupted around her, a blinding mix of orange, red, and blue, as her body shifted into a massive phoenix. Two enormous wings, blazing with fire, spread wide as she took to the sky.
The sight was nothing short of breathtaking, a vision of power and fury that sent a thrill down my spine. She shot up into the stormy sky before diving towards the rear of the convoy, her screech splitting the night like a banshee’s wail. A fireball burst forth from her, streaking through the rain-soaked air before slamming into the last vehicle. The explosion was immediate and catastrophic, the vehicle erupting in a shower of metal and fire, debris flying in every direction.
The sight spurred me into action. I threw back my head and let out a howl that ripped through the storm, a call to the Great Luna that echoed across the landscape. Steve joined me, our voices merging into a haunting chorus. From the direction of the camp, howls answered us, one after another, the sound swelling as the pack responded. Power surged through me, a tidal wave of raw, primal energy as my wolves sensed my command. They were ready, eager, and united in the battle.
As we closed the distance with the convoy, Mac unleashed another fireball, the burst of flame cutting through the darkness like a beacon of destruction. The first shots rang out as Pixiewolf fired her M4, the muzzle flash illuminating the night in stark bursts. Floodlights blazed to life, sweeping the area as the Hell Hounds swung their attention to the rear, their machine guns rattling to life. The earth kicked up where bullets peppered the ground, barely missing Steve and me as we veered off in opposite directions, dodging the deadly hail.
Above, the air crackled with the flap of massive wings. A dragon’s shadow passed over us, followed by a bolt of lightning that lit up the night sky. The gunner barely had time to scream as he was ripped from his mount, his terrified cries echoing as he was flung into the darkness. The sickening thud of his body hitting the pavement cut his screams short, the sound lost in the cacophony of battle.
Ahead, a massive explosion rocked the convoy, tires screeching as vehicles ground to a halt. The cold rain intensified, pinging off the metal and asphalt, creating a symphony of chaos. Machine guns roared to life, their tracers slicing through the night as the Hell Hounds fired blindly into the sky, desperately trying to hit the dragons circling above.
Two thunderous roars split the night, followed by another lightning strike. Off to the left, a ball of blue energy coalesced in the air before streaking towards the convoy. It slammed into a retrofitted semi-truck, sending it flipping onto its side as ice shards exploded in every direction, tearing through metal and flesh alike.
I plunged into the fray, instincts razor-sharp. A man swung his rifle towards Mac, but I was faster. I tackled him to the ground, my jaws closing around his throat. The hot gush of blood filled my mouth as I wrenched his head back, the sickening snap of his neck lost in the storm’s fury. I didn’t hesitate, spinning around to slash my claws across another man’s face, the force of the blow tearing his lower jaw clean off. Flesh and bone flew, blood spraying across the wet pavement as he crumpled.
Another rifle leveled at me, the barrel’s gleam catching my eye. But before the trigger could be pulled, Steve was there, his powerful arms wrapping around the man’s head. With a brutal twist, the man’s neck snapped, his body falling limp to the ground.
Three piercing howls rang out, cutting through the chaos like a clarion call. Cain, Abel, and Azura surged through the convoy, a deadly dance of steel and ferocity. They wielded scimitars with deadly precision, moving with a grace that belied the violence of their actions. Blood sprayed in arcs, bodies dropping as they carved a path through the Hell Hounds. The sight was brutal, a ballet of death played out on a stage of carnage.
The sound of gunfire erupted from the direction of the camp, the sharp retort of rifles echoing through the night. Stoneclaw’s voice boomed through the comms, urgent and commanding.
“Icetail, Raptor, Flamewing, Fang! Help the camp! They sent a second war party from the north!” His roar was nearly drowned out by the storm, but the gravity of his words was clear.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
My blood ran cold at the realization. Cain’s form blurred as he raced to me, his scimitar slicing through another Hell Hound’s neck, sending the head rolling into the rain-soaked gutter.
“Alpha! The camp is under attack!” he yelled, his voice barely audible over the battle’s fury.
“I know!” I snarled, ripping my claws down another man’s back, feeling the resistance as flesh and muscle parted beneath my talons.
“We can’t take them all on!” Cain’s voice was desperate, his eyes wild with the madness of battle.
“We have no choice!” I shouted back, yanking him down just as a stream of gunfire ripped through the space where we had been standing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steve hurl something white and round at the gunner who had nearly killed us. The object uncurled midair into a miniature white wolf that latched onto the man’s face. What followed was a horrifying spectacle—Pixiewolf, in her feral form, tearing into the man’s flesh like a living buzz saw. Blood sprayed in all directions, the man’s screams muffled as she shredded him without mercy.
The sharp yelp of pain cut through the chaos like a knife. My gaze snapped to Steve just in time to see him crumple to the ground, a dark stain spreading across his grey sweatshirt. My heart clenched, a cold fist of dread wrapping around it as I bolted towards him, my legs churning beneath me. Cain was already moving, a blur of motion as he charged the man who had shot Steve, but my focus was solely on my fallen beta.
Sliding to my knees beside him, I didn't hesitate. I grabbed his shoulders, the blood already seeping into my palms as I dragged him out of the fray and into the relative safety of the ditch at the edge of the interstate. My breath came in ragged gasps as I ripped open his shirt, exposing the gaping wound in his chest. The sight of it, the steady trickle of blood slipping between my fingers, was like a punch to the gut.
"Steve… I’m so sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of my guilt. Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. Not now.
Steve’s eyes fluttered open, hazel and glassy with pain. He tried to speak, but his voice came out in gurgles, blood bubbling up from his mouth as he struggled for breath.
"It’s… okay…" he forced out, his hand gripping my shoulder with what little strength he had left.
Panic clawed at my throat as I scrambled to think of a way to help him, to keep him here with me. "Steve, you need to shift. It's the only way you can heal," I urged, my voice trembling with fear.
"I… can’t… it… hurts… too… much…" His words were broken, each one a struggle against the pain that was dragging him down.
"I can’t force you to shift. You’re not my wolf," I whined, the helplessness in my voice almost choking me. He wasn’t bound to me, and without that bond, I had no power to save him.
Steve’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and I saw the fear in his eyes—fear of death, fear of the unknown, fear of being bound to another pack. He was terrified, caught between two equally horrifying choices. But if he didn’t choose, he would die. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.
"I don’t want to lose you, Steve. You’re important to me, to everyone in our team," I pleaded, tears finally breaking free and streaming down my cheeks.
Suddenly, a streak of red and white barreled down the embankment and skidded to a halt beside us. Catalina shifted into her pixie form in an instant, her eyes wide with fear as she rushed to Steve’s side.
"Stephen! You need to shift!" she screamed, her voice shrill with panic.
"He can't," I said, my voice hollow as the reality of the situation crushed me.
"Then make him shift!" Catalina yelled, her voice desperate, almost hysterical.
"I can’t force the shift on him. He isn’t one of my wolves," I snapped, my panic rising to the surface, spilling over in the form of harsh words.
"But you're an alpha! You can command him to shift!" she continued to yell, her desperation hitting me like a physical blow.
"Catalina! That’s not how our magic works! He has to be part of my pack for me to force a shift!" I finally shouted, my voice breaking as the panic fully set in.
Catalina recoiled, tears filling her eyes as the last of her hope began to crumble. "Lyra… Please…" she begged, her voice small, broken.
"Cat, the only way I can save him is to bond him to me. But I can’t do that without his consent," I said softly, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a mountain.
"Please… he is my life mate…" she cried, her voice barely a whisper now.
Damn it all to the moon… This was the moment Star had warned me about. I looked back at Steve, his eyes half-closed, the pain evident in every line of his face. I just needed his consent, one word to save his life.
"Steve, I can help you. But I need you to consent," I said, my voice gentle yet urgent.
His eyes fluttered open a little more, meeting mine with a mix of fear and resignation.
"Let me bond you to the pack so you can shift and heal. I know it scares you, but I can release you from the bond once you’re healed," I promised, my voice steady, despite the turmoil inside me.
Agonizing seconds ticked by, each one a lifetime. Finally, he gave a barely perceptible nod, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I began the bonding ritual, my voice low and firm. "Stephen Amarok of the Wandering and Brave, I claim you as my wolf. I vow on this day before the Mother Luna to protect, care, guide, and watch over you as one of my own. I vow to never lead you astray or abandon you. You will find sanctuary and peace under me as your Alpha and will always have a home to come back to. I grant you the choice to break this bond, and I will not force you to stay as part of my pack if you so choose. Do you accept my claim, Stephen Amarok of the Wandering and Brave?"
His eyes widened as the weight of my words sank in—the power I was offering him, the freedom to choose.
"I… accept…" he croaked out, his voice barely a whisper.
The bond snapped into place, the connection between us and the pack solidifying in an instant. I summoned all the power I had, drawing from within and from the pack, and laced it into my voice as I gave the command.
"Shift!" I commanded, the power in my words crashing over Steve and Catalina like a wave.
To my surprise, Catalina shifted back into her wolf form alongside Steve, who began to transform, his body mending itself as he did. I stared at Catalina, trying to comprehend how my command had forced her to shift as well.
Deciding that I would figure out how Catalina shifted later, I turned my attention back to Steve. He was midway through his transformation back into his human form, the process agonizingly slow. I watched, almost holding my breath, as the wound on his chest began to mend itself, the lead slug gradually being forced out. The battle raged on around us—the relentless crack of gunfire, the roar of dragons, and the staccato of distant shouts all mingling with the relentless downpour. Every second felt like an eternity, and it took a full five minutes before Steve’s shift was complete.
Then, the radio attached to Steve crackled to life, drawing my attention. Captain Bresden’s voice came through, tense and strained.
“Alpha Acosta, if you can hear me, we’re getting pushed back and running low on ammo,” he reported.
I grabbed the radio, ready to respond, but before I could, a voice rang out that was both familiar and commanding.
“833rd Engineering Company and 781st Transportation Pack, withdraw from combat. The 102nd Airborne Division will take it from here,” Star’s voice ordered, clear and resolute.
The relief that washed over me was almost physical, but there was no time to revel in it. I threw my head back and let out a long, drawn-out howl followed by three sharp barks—our universal signal to fall back and regroup on me. The howls of my wolves echoed back almost immediately, a reassuring chorus in the chaos. Within seconds, Cain, Abel, and Azura appeared out of the darkness, diving into the ditch next to me, Steve, and Catalina. They were drenched in blood, their faces set in grim determination.
“Why did you recall us?” Abel demanded, his tone edged with fury. But before I could respond, the night sky lit up with a sudden, blinding flash of lightning, revealing three massive airships looming overhead.
I pointed up, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight. Abel’s jaw dropped as he followed my gaze. The FSAS Crescent Moon led the formation, her silhouette unmistakable with its unique design—a modern echo of the SAF Autumn, which had been lost during the Second Twilight Winter Battle. To her left, the FSAS Chaos Reckoning hovered, an older Titan Class airship with a storied past. Once the USS Death Reckoning, she and her crew had switched sides after realizing the true nature of the regime they had served. On the Crescent Moon's right was a ship I didn’t recognize, but its presence was just as formidable.
Before I could get a closer look, all three ships began to charge their cannons. The night was bathed in blinding light as their lasers powered up, and I barely had time to grab Abel and Cain, pulling them down with me as the beams struck the Hell Hounds’ convoy. The ground shook with the force of the explosions, and a wave of searing heat washed over us. For a moment, everything went silent, as if the world itself had been stunned into submission.
When I finally lifted my head, I saw a massive crater where the center of the convoy had been. Molten metal pooled at the bottom, glowing with an ominous red hue. The silence was short-lived, however; the crack of gunfire rang out again from the remnants of the Hell Hounds. Bullets ricocheted off the asphalt near me, forcing me to duck back down.
Steve coughed weakly beside me, his voice raspy as he finally spoke. “What the hell was that?”
“Our backup,” I replied, a grim smile tugging at my lips.
“What did they bring? Tanks?” he asked, incredulous.
“Sorta. More like battleships,” I said, my smile widening.
“No joke, Alpha. They sent us three combat airships as backup,” Azura declared, her voice tinged with awe as she gazed up at the behemoths hovering above us.
I nodded, still in disbelief myself, before looking back up at the ships. Figures began to leap from the upper flight deck of the Crescent Moon, their tactical gliders catching the wind as they descended. These weren’t just any gliders—they were upgraded skyboards, sleek and deadly, built for speed and maneuverability. My own skyboard was a stripped-down version, but these… these were built for war.
Night had fully claimed the sky by the time we made our way back to camp, trudging through the muck and remnants of the battlefield. The 588th Night Witches Stealth Wing was airborne, raining down precise and deadly justice on any remaining Hell Hounds foolish enough to continue their assault. Overhead, the ship I didn’t recognize launched several personnel carriers towards the wreckage of the convoy and our camp, their descent almost serene amidst the chaos below.
Standing, I helped Steve to his feet. He was still pale, his breath labored, but the worst had passed. Cain and the others quickly moved to support him, taking turns as we navigated the uneven terrain. Catalina, still in her miniature wolf form, stuck close to Steve, her eyes wide with concern. She hadn’t shifted back, and I could tell from the way she pressed against him that she had no intention of leaving his side.
As we neared the camp, the scene was one of controlled chaos. Soldiers and wolves moved about frantically, trying to make sense of the mess left behind by the battle.
“What’s with the wolf pup?” Cain muttered under his breath, his tone curious.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Catalina, now fully aware of Cain’s observation, shot him a wicked glare that could have sent lesser men running. Without missing a beat, Steve bent down, gently scooping her up into his arms.
“This ‘wolf’ isn’t a pup,” he said with a grin, “just a very protective pixie wolf.”
Cain’s eyes widened as he processed Steve’s words, but before he could respond, the rest of the group turned their puzzled gazes to me. I offered them a mischievous grin and a wink, enjoying their momentary confusion as they tried to piece together the clues.
“Was that—?” Abel began, his voice trailing off.
“No way!” Azura cut in, her disbelief evident.
“Surprisingly, that makes a lot of sense now…” Cain finished, shaking his head in a mix of awe and exasperation.
Before the conversation could continue, a familiar screech echoed behind me. I spun around just in time to be knocked off my feet by a fiery redheaded missile—Mac. Still in my wolf form, I barely had time to register her presence before she had me pinned to the ground in a muddy embrace.
“Hi Mac,” I managed to say, more surprised than anything.
“I couldn’t find you! I thought you were killed! I’ve been searching for you for the last forty minutes!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of relief and frustration.
“We took cover in the ditch near the interstate after Steve got shot,” I explained, trying to calm her down.
“Why didn’t you radio in? We could have sent someone to escort you back,” she huffed, clearly annoyed.
That’s when it hit me—I’d completely forgotten about the radio after the laser strike. For all I knew, it was still lying in the ditch, buried under mud and water. Stoneclaw wasn’t going to be thrilled about that. With a resigned sigh, I finally admitted, “I think we left it in the ditch by accident.”
“Ooh! Stoneclaw’s not gonna be happy about that. And wait, did you say Steve got shot?” she demanded, her voice rising with concern.
“Yeah, but luckily the Hell Hounds weren’t packing silver or anything more toxic,” I replied, trying to downplay the situation.
“They probably didn’t expect to face a pack of werewolves, eight dragons, a platoon of soldiers, and a phoenix,” she reasoned. “They came prepared to take on a few dragons and some humans—nothing like this.”
“How many casualties?” I asked, bracing myself for the worst.
“One of the dragons took a hit from an RPG and is in rough shape, but Stoneclaw thinks he’ll pull through. Kira’s pretty beat up—she went hand-to-hand with one of the Hell Hounds after they shot Jake. We lost four soldiers, and Captain Bresden lost a leg. Sasha, Seth, Tyler, and Charlotte managed to hold off most of the second force with the soldiers’ help, but they’re pretty shaken.”
“Which dragon got hurt?” I asked, concern deepening.
“I think his name is Ironfist,” she replied.
“And Jake? Is he alright?”
“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen right now, bragging about how he took a bullet to the shoulder before Kira went feral. She apparently beat the living hell out of the woman who shot him. Though, knowing Jake, he’s probably embellishing the story a bit,” she added with a grin.
“So, one major casualty on our team… that’s better than I feared,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. Then, with a playful grin, I added, “Mac?”
“Yes?” she answered, still looking concerned.
“Would you please… get off me? I really don’t like being covered in mud,” I huffed, trying to maintain some dignity.
“Oh! Sorry,” she said sheepishly, quickly getting to her feet and helping me up. Mud and water dripped off my fur in thick globs, and I couldn’t resist giving her a devious grin before shaking myself off like the wolf I was. Mud and water flew in all directions, drenching Mac in the process.
“Lyra!” she screeched in dismay, but I just smirked and continued towards the kitchen.
Just as I was about to step into the tent, someone cleared their throat behind me. Both Mac and I spun around, coming face to face with someone I hadn’t expected to see again.
“Cameron?” I asked, shock evident in my voice.
“Hi Lyra, long time no see,” he said, flashing that devastatingly sly smile of his.