Shadows Beneath the Moon part 2

The Ambush
We were still talking when the wind shifted. Aedric froze mid-sentence, head tilting slightly. Lira’s hand went to her bow.

Then came the howl. Not a call—but a scream.

Shapes burst from the snowline—half a dozen figures, warped and staggering, fur matted with black ichor. Feral werewolves. Their eyes glowed crimson, jaws frothing.

Aedric roared an order in a tongue I didn’t know. His warriors formed a line, spears ready.

“Demons!” one of the guild knights shouted. “Form ranks!”

Kael drew his axes, jaw clenched. “They’re gone too far—”

“Kael!” Lira shouted, but it was too late. The corrupted ones crashed into our lines.

The air filled with snarls, steel, and screams. I parried one, the impact numbing my arm. Its face was barely human anymore.

Aedric waded into the fray, cutting down one of his own kin with grim finality. “Mercy is for the living!” he barked.

Then I saw Kael fall. A feral creature slammed him into the snow, claws raking across his chest. Blood sprayed—too much.

Lira’s cry cut through the chaos. “Kael!”

He convulsed. For a heartbeat, I thought he was dying. Then the sound came—low, guttural, wrong.

His eyes flashed gold. His muscles twisted, limbs stretching.

The creature above him never had a chance—Kael’s claws tore through it like paper.

Silence rippled outward as even the werewolves stopped fighting.

One of the guild knights stumbled back, sword shaking. “By the Saints—he’s one of them!”

Lira stepped in front of Kael, bow raised. “He’s with us!”

But Kael was half-gone, breathing hard, eyes wild. His voice came through his teeth; more growl than words. “I—I can still fight—!”

“Then fight,” Aedric said calmly, stepping beside him. “For something worth the curse.”

Together, they brought the last of the ferals down. When the final one fell, the snow turned red and still again.

We gathered near the ruined campfire. The guild knights kept their distance, whispering. The scribe had fainted somewhere behind a tree.

Kael knelt in the snow, trembling as the fur receded and his human skin returned. He looked exhausted, ashamed.

Thalen’s second-in-command, Knight Merrow, spat into the snow. “We should bind him. And her, too,” he said, glaring at Lira. “You knew.”

Lira met his gaze, unflinching. “I protected my squadmate. And you’re welcome that he saved your life.”

I stepped between them. “Enough. We all saw who the real monsters were tonight.”
Aedric’s voice came low but firm. “He carries both bloods now — man and moon. The guild must choose whether to see the difference.”

When we returned to Valenhold two days later, Thalen was waiting. He listened to the full report in silence. When it was done, he rubbed his temple.

“Until I can make sense of this,” he said at last, “Kael and Lira stay within the city. No field missions. You—” he looked at me, “—will keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. Understood?”

I nodded. “Understood.”

As I turned to leave, Kael caught my arm. His voice was hoarse. “Thanks… for not looking away.”

I hesitated, then said, “You should’ve told me.”

He gave a tired half-smile. “Would you have believed me?”

I didn’t answer. The truth was — probably not.

Blood and Oaths
There’s a saying in Valenhold: “Nothing stays buried in the north. Not bones. Not truth.” I’d learned that was more warning than proverb.

Three weeks had passed since the attack in Frostpine. Kael and Lira were still grounded, officially under “guild review.” Unofficially, we’d all been given breathing room — time for rumors to spread, for people to stare too long when Kael entered the mess hall, for whispers to travel faster than letters.

So, when Guildmaster Thalen summoned me again, I already knew this wasn’t over.

Orders from Thalen
Thalen leaned over his desk, the light of an oil lamp casting deep shadows across the room. “The corruption you found—it’s spreading. Slowly, but steadily. My scouts traced the trail north, to Blackfen Ravine.”

“Ravine?” I asked. “I thought that place was abandoned after the iron collapse.”

“It was,” Thalen said. “Now something’s moved in.”

He hesitated before continuing. “Aedric Silverfang sent word. The ferals there are… his blood. His son leads them.”

That hit like a thrown hammer.

“He’s asking for help,” Thalen went on. “Not soldiers. You. Your squad. He trusts you more than anyone wearing a crest.”

Kael and Lira were waiting outside when I told them. Kael didn’t say much—just tightened the straps on his axes. Lira’s expression was unreadable. “If we’re doing this,” she said, “we end it cleanly.”

Journey to Blackfen
Blackfen Ravine was three days north of Valenhold, a gash in the land where fog never lifted. The closer we rode, the quieter the world became. Not even the ravens followed.

Aedric met us at the ravine’s edge. His armor was dulled with frost, his face more tired than before.

“My scouts found traces of the corruption,” he said. “Glyphs burned into stone. My son bears the mark now — the demons use his blood to spread their rot.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “We’ll stop him.”

Aedric studied him, then handed me a small flask filled with shimmering liquid. “Moonwater,” he said. “Purified silver blessed under the waning moon. It can cleanse the glyphs before the fight. If you fail, the corruption will linger even after death.”

He paused, eyes hard. “When it comes to my son… if there is no saving him—make it quick.”

Descent into the Ravine
The ravine swallowed sound. Every step echoed like a heartbeat, every breath misted into fog. Crimson tendrils of mist clung to the rocks, and faint runes pulsed beneath the frost — the demonic glyphs Aedric had warned us of.

Kael muttered, “Smells like blood and rust.”

Lira knelt beside one of the glyphs, her hand trembling slightly. “It’s feeding on the ley-lines. We’ll have to break the flow before it spreads further.”

I uncorked the moonwater and poured it over the symbols. The liquid hissed, silver light cutting through the red glow. The corruption recoiled — like it knew it was dying.

We moved from stone to stone, purifying each mark, until the ravine began to tremble faintly. Something was waking.

Then the howl came — deeper, stronger, layered with something wrong.

The Feral Alpha
He emerged from the mist like a nightmare of iron and sinew — towering, fur blackened by smoke, eyes blazing red. Aedric’s son. The last of his line — and the first to fall.

He spoke no words. The corruption had stolen language from him.

The fight was chaos. Kael struck first, his axes flashing in arcs of frost and blood. Lira’s arrows burned with alchemical oil, piercing through hide thick as armor. I kept the glyphs from reigniting, pouring the last of the moonwater into the ground.

But the Alpha was fast — too fast. His claws tore through Kael’s guard, sending him sprawling. I rushed in, blade raised, only to be knocked back by the sheer weight of him.

Then I heard Lira’s gasp. Her bow dropped.

She was shaking, teeth clenched, eyes glowing faint gold. “No—no, not now—”
Her body trembled violently as fur rippled across her skin. Her breathing turned ragged.

“Lira!” I shouted.

She dropped to her knees, fighting it — but the moonlight caught her, half-shifting her form. When she rose, her eyes were no longer human — but neither were they wild.

She loosed an arrow so precise it pierced the Alpha’s shoulder clean through.
Kael was up again by then, his own transformation flickering at the edges. “Now!” he roared.

Together, they tore into the beast — not as monsters, but as kin reclaiming one of their own.

I saw the moment of recognition — a flicker of clarity in the Alpha’s eyes — just before Kael struck the final blow.

When it was over, the crimson mist faded, dissolving into the cold air like ash in water.

We buried the Alpha beneath the frost. Aedric arrived soon after, his face carved from grief and resignation.

“He’s free,” Kael said quietly.

Aedric nodded. “Aye. And now the rest of us must live with what remains.”

He turned to Lira, whose eyes were still faintly gold. “You held the moon at bay. That takes strength — and pain.”

She looked down. “It doesn’t feel like strength.”

“Then call it mercy,” Aedric said.

When we returned to Valenhold, Thalen met us at the gates. He read the report in silence, then sighed.

“So, the corruption’s purged?”
“For now,” I said.
He gave a curt nod. “Then we’ll count that as victory. Don’t expect parades.”

No one did. But when I passed the notice board later that night, I saw a new posting — unsigned, sealed with silver wax. It read:

The Silverfangs have agreed to hunt beyond Imperial lands under guild supervision. Discretion required. Payment in silver, not gold.

Lira stood beside me, reading the words. Her voice was soft. “So this is what peace looks like.”
“Unsteady,” I said. “But it’s a start.”
She smiled faintly. “Then maybe that’s enough.”

Fangs Beneath the Banner
Valenhold smelled of rain that morning — iron rooftops slick with drizzle, the streets quiet except for the sound of boots and distant forges. It felt like any other day. But the guildhall was never this still unless something important was happening.

Inside, banners hung low in the main hall. The Guildmaster’s seal had been placed on the table — a simple iron emblem, worn and scratched. Across from it lay another symbol: a crescent of silver worked into leather. The mark of the Silverfangs.

Aedric Silverfang stood at the far end of the room, a dark figure against the frost-lit window. Kael and Lira waited beside him — no cloaks, no weapons, just quiet resolve.

Guildmaster Thalen motioned for me to stand with them. “You were there for the first howl,” he said. “You’ll witness the last.”

The Accord
Aedric’s voice carried the weight of the north itself. “We don’t seek pardon,” he said, “and we don’t ask for recognition. My pack will hunt the same enemies you do — demons, monsters, corruption. So long as the guild remembers that the moon isn’t your enemy.”

Thalen gave a slow nod. “Then we’re agreed. The Guild of Valenhold will sanction your hunts — discreetly. You’ll have access to our caches and safehouses. In return, you keep the bloodshed outside Imperial settlements.”

The parchment between them bore no signatures, only symbols — a wolf’s mark pressed in wax beside the guild’s iron crest.

No one spoke for a while. Rain tapped softly against the glass.
Then Thalen extended his hand. “May our hunts never cross blades.”
Aedric clasped it. His hand was scarred, clawed — but steady.

After the Accord
Later that night, the guildhall came alive again. No feast, no fanfare — just the low murmur of adventurers sharing drink and rumor. Most of them didn’t even know what had just changed.

Kael leaned against the balcony railing, staring at the city lights below. “So… peace?”
“Something like it,” I said.
He smirked. “Feels strange. Usually, peace is what happens right before another disaster.”

Lira joined us, her expression softer than I’d seen it in months. “Don’t jinx it.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “Aedric’s leaving before dawn. The pack’s heading north, to patrol the timberline. We’ll stay behind — under ‘probation.’”

“Under supervision, you mean,” Kael said. “Apparently I make people nervous when I snore.”
Lira elbowed him. “You howl in your sleep.”
“Only on full moons,” he said with a grin.

Their laughter felt fragile — like something rediscovered after too long.

Night Missions
In the weeks that followed, Valenhold settled into an uneasy calm. Demon sightings dwindled, caravans resumed their routes, and the tavern bards sang about monster hunts again instead of disappearances.

But every now and then, I’d notice Kael and Lira gone from their bunks at night. Their weapons would be missing too. No word left behind, no marks on the board.

They always returned before dawn — silent, tired, but with that look hunters wear when they’ve faced something no one else saw.

Once, I found a trail of faint silver fur caught in the frost outside the guild gate. I didn’t mention it.

The Guild’s Quiet Secret
Thalen called me into his office one evening. He was writing something into a ledger — lines upon lines of coded names, false missions, disguised payments.

Without looking up, he said, “You’ve seen more than most, I think. Enough to know what we protect here.”
“The guild?” I asked.
He shook his head. “The balance. The world doesn’t need to know how close it came to breaking. It only needs to believe it’s safe.”

He finally looked up at me. “Keep their secret. Not because they asked, but because it’s worth keeping.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“Good,” he said. “Then go get some sleep. You’ll need it — new contracts are coming in from the western border.”

The Northern Wind
Weeks later, I rode north on another routine assignment — escort work, nothing special. But at night, when the fire burned low, I heard wolves howling beyond the trees. Not wild, not desperate — but purposeful.

It wasn’t a threat. It was a signal.

A reminder that somewhere out there, the Silverfangs still hunted the dark things so others could sleep easy.

I looked up at the stars, the guild’s crest glinting faintly on my pauldron. “Fangs beneath the banner,” I murmured. “Guess that’s what we’ve become.”

And for the first time in a long while, the world felt balanced — not perfect, not peaceful, but steady.

For now, that would do.