CHAPTER 162: THE MONOLITH

Cassius’s voice was ice. "So we dissolve it to make the world more comfortable?"

"No," Athena said sharply. "We protect it. We strengthen it. And we find who would rather see the realms divided than united under something new."

Silence fell.

Then Lysara added, "There’s another angle." She opened a scroll. "This symbol appeared on Kaelen’s blade. It wasn’t his crest."

She unfurled it on the table.

Athena’s breath caught.

Lucas went still. Cassius narrowed his eyes.

Etched into the blade was a serpent coiled around a dying star.

Ancient. Banned. Erased.

"The Cult of the First Fang," Cassius whispered. "They were wiped out a thousand years ago."

"Or so we thought," Lysara said. "But if they’re resurfacing—and backing Kaelen—this challenge wasn’t about you. It was a test."

Athena finally sat, her voice low but unshaking. "Then we passed."

Lucas added, "But they’ll send another."

Cassius tapped the table near the Western edges. "Let’s bait them. Send word of a false weakness. Let them think we’re divided after the challenge. They’ll take the bait."

Athena looked up, fire in her eyes. "Good. Let them come."

Her fingers moved across the carved wolf runes on the table. The map shimmered slightly under her touch, responding to the blood that still lingered beneath her fingernails.

"We don’t wait for war to come to us," she said. "We pull it into the light. And burn it clean."

They moved at dusk, cloaked in shadow and scentless ash, slipping through the tree line with the silence only bonded wolves could manage.

No guards. No war banners. Just three wolves—goddess, alpha, alpha—tracking whispers too dangerous to leave to others.

Athena kept her senses razor-sharp, attuned to the crackle of magic hidden beneath the soil, the way the trees leaned inward like they remembered something bloody.

"They said the ruins were sealed after the last Moonfall," Lucas murmured beside her, crouched low in a patch of dead ferns.

Cassius nodded from behind. "Only fools or fanatics would return here."

Athena didn’t speak. She was already moving forward.

The temple didn’t rise from the earth like most sanctuaries. It descended. A half-buried mouth in the side of a hill, ringed in crumbling stone fangs, the entrance slick with moss and bone dust.

An old place.

A forgotten place.

But not abandoned.

The scent of burned sage and dried blood clung to the entrance.

Athena raised her hand, and the three of them paused before stepping inside. She whispered a warding spell under her breath—not to block magic, but to contain whatever was inside.

They descended.

The corridor was narrow, carved in spirals, each wall etched with images of wolves with too many eyes, moons devouring themselves, claws rising from the earth. As they moved deeper, a humming began in Athena’s chest—not pain. Not warning.

Recognition.

The Cult had been here recently.

Lucas stiffened beside her. "Something moved ahead."

They rounded a corner—and froze.

The chamber was massive, lit by floating flames that didn’t flicker. At the center stood a monolith, shaped like a wolf’s skull, massive and cracked. Blood pooled at its base—still wet.

Cassius’s growl was soft. "They’ve been sacrificing."

Athena stepped closer. The symbols on the walls were carved in deep gouges—not ceremonial. Rushed. Desperate.

But it was the sigil above the altar that made her blood chill.

A star eclipsed in ash.

And below it, scrawled in dried blood:

"She has awakened. The Moon bleeds again. The fracture will soon devour itself."

Lucas spoke, voice strained. "They’re not trying to stop you. They’re trying to use you."

A rustle.

Movement.

All three wolves turned in unison, claws half-shifted, as a cloaked figure stepped from the shadows behind the monolith.

Not a wolf.

Not entirely human.

Its voice was like gravel soaked in honey. "You shouldn’t have come, Moonbearer."

Athena stepped forward. "You’ve been invoking my name in rituals. Explain why."

The figure tilted its head. "You’re the end. The blade. The unmaking. We don’t worship you. We release you."

Cassius lunged—but Athena threw a hand out, stopping him.

"You mean to bind me."

"We mean to unleash what lies beneath your skin," it said, lifting its hood—revealing hollow eyes and branded cheeks. "The part of you that survived the gods. The part that remembers the first howl, the first betrayal."

Athena’s voice turned cold. "You speak of things buried for a reason."

The cultist grinned. "And yet here you are, digging."

The room trembled—just slightly.

And the figure stepped back into the shadows.

"Let him go," Lucas said. "He was meant to be seen."

Cassius stared at the blood. "This was a warning."

"No," Athena said, eyes fixed on the flickering sigil overhead.

"This was a summons."

The messenger came at midnight, wrapped in mud and fear.

He bore no crest. No colors. Just a torn strip of Southern Claw fur stitched to his sleeve. The guards nearly gutted him on sight—until he whispered the name.

"Kaelen."

Athena met him in the shadows of the eastern watchtower, her cloak drawn, Lucas and Cassius flanking her like sentinels carved of flame and fury. She’d thought she would never see Kaelen again after their fight—certainly not like this.

But there he was.

Alone.

Blood crusted at his temple. One arm limp at his side. His wolf form was trying to claw through his skin, eyes glowing with feral panic, as if he wasn’t sure if he was still prey or predator.

"You shouldn’t be here," Cassius growled, already stepping between them.

Kaelen didn’t move. "You think I don’t know that?"

Lucas’s jaw twitched. "Then why come?"

Athena raised a hand and stepped forward. "Let him speak."

Kaelen’s gaze flicked up to her face—no trace of mockery now. No challenge.

Only shame.

"They used me," he rasped. "And now they want me dead."

He looked thinner. Hollowed out.

Lucas crossed his arms. "The Cult?"

Kaelen nodded. "They came months ago. Whispered to my advisors. Promised me a future—said the bond you three share would fracture the packs, lead us to war. I didn’t want war. I wanted order. Power through unity."

Cassius sneered. "You wanted her."

"I wanted answers!" Kaelen snapped, then winced as his ribs flared with pain. "And yes. I wanted her. I thought if I could force the bond apart, the world would follow me instead. I didn’t know what they were."

Athena’s voice was quiet. "And what are they?"

Kaelen’s eyes darkened. "They’re not just a cult. They’re a bloodline. Something older than the packs. Older than the gods. They called themselves The Fang of Origin. And they don’t want the throne. They want to break the world."

A silence fell.

Lucas frowned. "Why come here? Why not run?"

"I did run," Kaelen said bitterly. "I disobeyed them. After the duel, I tried to sever contact. My seers vanished. My mate-bond candidates were slaughtered. My own Beta turned on me three days ago."

Cassius stepped forward. "So you bring your guilt here and expect what—mercy?"

"I bring you information," Kaelen hissed. "And a name."

He reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew a bloodstained sigil—black wax melted over a crest that had been scrubbed clean.

He held it to Athena. "This was sent to the Southern Claw one week ago. Carried by a crow with human teeth. I didn’t recognize the sigil... but your people will."

Athena took it slowly, her eyes narrowing. "You’re being hunted."

"I’ve been marked," Kaelen said. "They called me the first broken link. The first betrayal. Which means there’s going to be a second. And a third. Until the chain snaps."

Lucas muttered, "He’s right."

Cassius still didn’t budge. "And what’s your price for this noble act?"

Kaelen laughed. "I have no price. I just want to live."

Athena finally looked at him, fully. Not as a challenger. Not even as a traitor.

But as a pawn—one who’d seen the board and realized too late he was never the king.

"We can’t protect you," she said, voice sharp. "Not openly."

Kaelen nodded, chest rising and falling with tired relief. "I know. But I can lead you to one of their temples. A real one. One they haven’t burned behind them."

Lucas stepped beside her. "If he’s lying—"

"He’s not," Athena said. "He’s broken. And broken things don’t bluff. They survive."

Kaelen lowered his head.

And for the first time, it wasn’t in submission.

It was in surrender.