CHAPTER 111: ANCIENT ENEMIES UNITE

Elder Iris POV

I slammed my walking stick against the cave wall three times, the old wood ringing like a bell. The sound cut through the chaos, causing everyone to freeze as my omega authority filled the space.

"Enough!" I ordered, my voice carrying power that most had forgotten omegas could wield. "While you argue about vampires and transformations, the real war is starting outside this cave."

Through the dimensional rifts that baby Emma had accidentally opened, I could see things the others missed. My seventy years of life had taught me to look beyond the obvious, and what I saw made my old bones ache with fear.

Three versions of Marcus weren’t the worst thing coming through those tears in reality.

Behind them marched troops I recognized from the oldest stories - creatures that had been banished from our world so long ago that most people thought they were myths. The Shadowkin, who fed on fear itself. The Bone Weavers, who turned the dead into weapons. And worst of all, the Silence Bringers, who could steal words, thoughts, and memories with a touch.

"The ancient enemies return," I whispered, watching the nightmare parade through Emma’s unstable portals.

"What are you talking about?" Aiden demanded.

"Before werewolves and vampires ever feuded, we all had a common enemy," I explained quickly. "Creatures from the places between worlds. They were banished by the first supernatural union three thousand years ago."

Dmitri’s pale face went even whiter. "The First War. I thought those were just stories."

"Everything becomes a story if you wait long enough," I answered grimly. "But Marcus has torn the barriers so badly that the old banishments are breaking. The ancient enemies are back, and they remember every slight."

As if called by my words, something pushed through the largest rift. It looked like a person made of living shadow, but where its face should be was just empty darkness that hurt to look at.

"Shadowkin," I breathed, my hand tightening on my walking stick.

The creature’s attention fixed on me, and I felt its hunger like ice in my blood. It had been so long since it tasted fear from our world. So very long.

"Nobody move," I ordered softly. "Don’t even breathe loud. They hunt by feeling."

But baby Emma’s cries were still echoing through the cave, and her terror was like a beacon to the shadow thing. It moved toward her, moving without making a sound.

That’s when I did something I hadn’t done in fifty years. I let my true power show.

Most people thought omegas were weak because we didn’t fight with teeth and claws like alphas, or gather and plan like betas. But omega power was different. Older. We were the first to learn that some fights weren’t won with violence.

"I see you, shadow-born," I said, my voice carrying harmonies that made the cave walls hum. "I know your true name, your binding words, your ancient shame."

The Shadowkin stopped moving, its empty face turning toward me with something that might have been surprise.

"You remember me, don’t you?" I continued, stepping forward despite my creaky joints. "Or rather, you remember my grandmother, who helped weave the spells that banished your kind."

The creature hissed, a sound like steam coming from a kettle. Around us, the others watched in amazement as I faced down a nightmare from the dawn of time with nothing but words and an old woman’s resolve.

"The binding still holds," I told it firmly. "You cannot take the child. You cannot feed on her fear. The ancient laws ban it."

"Laws... change," the Shadowkin whispered, its voice like moving leaves. "Barriers... weaken. The First Compact... breaks."

My heart sank. The thing was right. The magical deals that had kept the ancient enemies banished were breaking down along with everything else. Soon, they’d be free to hunt again.

"Perhaps," I admitted. "But not yet. Not while I still draw breath."

What happened next surprised everyone, including me. From the other rifts, more creatures began to appear - but not the monsters I expected. Instead, people I recognized from the oldest stories stepped through.

An elf with silver hair and armor that gleamed like stars. A dwarf whose hammer crackled with lightning. A dragon in human form, her eyes holding the knowledge of millennia. And others - members of the Lost Peoples who had vanished from our world ages ago.

"The Compact calls," the elf said, her voice like wind chimes. "The ancient alliance must be renewed."

"Impossible," Dmitri breathed. "The Lost Peoples are stories. They never existed."

"We existed," the dragon-woman answered sadly. "We simply chose to leave when the younger species began their endless feuds. But the Void Walkers risk all realities, not just yours."

I felt tears on my wrinkled face. The First Alliance - the legendary unity between all thinking species - wasn’t just a story. It was real, and it was being offered to us again.

"The terms remain the same," the dwarf rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "All old grudges set aside. All species equal in the fight. All working toward the common good."

"And if we refuse?" Aiden asked.

The elf pointed toward the rifts, where Marcus’s armies and the ancient enemies were gathering. "Then you face them alone, and all realities fall to darkness."

I looked around the cave at the impossible gathering. Werewolves and vampires, humans and magical beings, all brought together by a pregnant omega and a crying baby whose power was tearing holes in the universe.

"I accept," I said formally, using the ancient words my grandma had taught me. "On behalf of all who seek the light, I accept the renewed Compact."

The Lost Peoples nodded seriously, but before anyone could celebrate, the Shadowkin laughed - a sound like breaking glass.

"Too late," it hissed. "The Void King comes. The Eater of Worlds wakes. Your union means nothing against what rises in the Deep Dark."

Ice filled my blood. The Void King was worse than Marcus, worse than the old enemies, worse than anything I’d ever heard of. According to the oldest stories, it was the thing that devoured entire worlds, leaving nothing but empty space behind.

"The Void King is a myth," I said, but my voice shook.

"As were we," the dragon-woman said quietly. "Yet here we stand."

Through the biggest rift, something vast began to stir. Not Marcus with his troops, not the returning ancient enemies, but something so enormous that I could only see tiny pieces of it through the dimensional tear.

An eye the size of a moon opened in the darkness between worlds. When it focused on our little cave, I felt the weight of its attention like a rock crushing down on my soul.

"The Anchor Child calls to me," it spoke, its voice shaking reality itself. "I have been sleeping so long, waiting for a soul strong enough to support my passage between worlds. But now... now I am awake."

Lily’s hand flew to her pregnant belly as she gasped in pain. Whatever was in that enormous eye, it was related to her unborn baby.

"No," she whispered. "Stay away from my child."

The Void King’s laughing made the cave walls crack. "Your child is already mine, little dog. It has been mine since the moment it was created. I have been growing alongside it, feeding on its developing power, planning for my return."

The truth hit me like a physical blow. Lily’s baby wasn’t just powerful - it was the vessel the Void King planned to use to enter our reality forever.

"The pregnancy," I breathed in fear. "It’s not normal. Something’s been controlling it from the beginning."

And as the Void King’s massive form began pushing through the dimensional rift, I understood that everything we’d been through - Marcus’s machines, the Reality Storms, even the ancient enemies returning - had all been distractions.

The real enemy had been growing inside Lily all along.