The Alpha’s Shadow

​Roe pressed his back against the cold brick wall. The pack circled slowly. Rot hounds padded across the cobblestones, their antlered skulls low, their hollow eyes fixed on him. The Hollowhart stood behind them like a silent shepherd, waiting.

​Roe’s chest rose and fell unevenly. Blood dripped from his knuckles, from his ribs, and from somewhere behind his ear. The alley felt colder now, his breath fogging in front of him.

​You simply don't belong.

​Roe laughed weakly. “Yeah.”

​The pack tightened the circle. One creature stepped closer. Another followed. Claws scraped across stone, and Roe’s hands trembled. For the first time in years, something ugly crept into his chest: fear. Real fear.

​He looked down at his shaking hands. “Man,” he muttered, “I might actually die.”

​The Hollowhart lowered its head. The pack moved. Roe squeezed his eyes shut.

​And for a moment, the alley disappeared.

​Sunlight. Warm wind. Tall grass moving like waves.

​A younger Roe sat on a fallen log, breathing hard while clutching a wooden practice staff. Across from him stood his grandfather: old, broad-shouldered, arms folded patiently. Arin sat in the grass nearby, chewing on a stick of sugarcane.

​“You’re thinking too much,” Grandpa said.

​Young Roe scowled. “I lost.”

​Grandpa shrugged. “You lost a fight.”

​“That’s the same thing.”

​“No.” The old man walked over and tapped Roe on the forehead. “Losing a fight means you got knocked down.” He tapped Roe’s chest. “Losing means you decide to stay there.”

​Arin snorted from the grass. “Yeah, Rohan. Grandpa just knocked you down like six times.”

​Roe glared at her.

​Grandpa chuckled, his voice growing softer. “Boy, listen to me. Strength is not what you do when you are winning.” He crouched in front of Roe. “Strength is what you do when everything says you should stay on the ground.”

​The old man pointed to the horizon. “Anybody can stand tall when the sun is shining. But a real man stands up when the storm comes.”

​Young Roe looked up. “What if the storm wins?”

​Grandpa smiled. “Then you stand up again.” He placed a large hand on Roe’s shoulder. “And again. And again.”

​Roe opened his eyes slowly. “Yeah. And again.”

​The pack closed in. He pushed himself away from the wall. Pain ripped through his ribs and his legs trembled, but he stayed standing.

​“Alright,” Roe muttered. “I got too much to live for. My daughter. My friends. And honestly…” A weak grin pulled across his face. “…just to spite that loudmouth short bastard.”

​The monsters groaned and hissed at him.

​Oh, you think I'm dying? Nah. We dying. Smoke in my lungs. Ice in my veins. If I'm going to hell tonight, then we all getting slain.

​He slowly raised his arms into a cross in front of himself. Heat. Smoke. The crackling warmth of his grandfather’s campfire. Cold wind. Snow pressing against his fingertips during his first winter in the mountains. The feelings slammed into him all at once: sharp, familiar, real.

​Roe inhaled slowly. “Thanks, Grandad.”

​Something in his chest tightened suddenly, like he was trying to hold water in his hands. The feelings stayed, the lessons stayed, but somewhere deep inside, something felt distant for just a second. Fading. Slipping.

​Roe smiled anyway. “I know who I am. And I do not need some loudmouth, short, no-taste having ass old man's approval.”

​Half his body ignited with fire while frost spread across the other. The alley trembled violently around him. He clapped his hands together.

​“Infernox!”

​The air pressure blew the beast away and melted half its body, creating a giant heat cloud. Roe stepped aside and slammed a palm into the creature’s skull, and the monster exploded into ash.

​Another rushed in. Roe ducked beneath its claws and drove his elbow into its ribs, bursting an air shockwave outward. Two more leapt. Roe spun through them, flames trailing behind his strikes.

​I’m slowing down, but I gotta keep pushing.

​One creature bit into his shoulder. Roe grabbed it by the antlers and drove its head into the cobblestones hard enough to crack the stone.

​The Hollowhart charged. Roe met it halfway. Flames erupted along his arm as he slammed his fist into the creature’s chest, the blast sending fungus spores flying across the alley walls. Roe staggered backward, but he stayed standing.

​“Yeah,” he panted. “That’s more like it.”

​The pack tightened again. Still too many. Still impossible odds. But Roe no longer looked afraid. He planted his feet.

​“Come on then.”

​The pack lunged. The alley exploded into claws and antlers. Roe fought like a cornered animal. Flames burst from his hands as creatures shattered into ash around him, but more kept coming. One slammed into his ribs, another tore across his leg.

​Roe stumbled. The Hollowhart lowered its antlers, and Roe braced himself. The charge came like a falling tree.

​Then, a whip cracked. Fire split the air.

​The Hollowhart’s antlers stopped inches from Roe’s chest. Flames coiled around its neck like a burning serpent as the creature screamed. A shadow stepped into the alley behind it, the firelit coils of a blazing whip wrapped around his arm.

​Captain Femi.

​The Hollowhart thrashed violently. Femi flicked his wrist, and the whip tightened. The creature slammed into the ground hard enough to shake the alley.

​Femi’s voice was calm. Cold. “You’re making a mess in my city.”

​The pack hesitated. Femi stepped forward, and the creatures lunged.

​The whip moved once, twice, three times. Fire cracked through the alley like lightning. Rot hounds burst apart midair, scattering ash across the stone.

​The Hollowhart tried to stand. Femi planted his foot on its skull, flames erupting down the length of the whip. The creature froze, then shattered into burning fragments.

​Silence fell across the alley. Ash drifted slowly through the air. Femi glanced sideways at Roe.

​“You’re still alive.”

​Roe wiped blood from his mouth. “Yeah. Barely.”

​He looked around at the burning remains of the pack. Femi turned toward the alley entrance, his voice remaining flat. “Good. You’re going to need that stubbornness.”

​Roe blinked. “What?”

​Femi glanced back once. “Because if you’re going to run with my pack…” He coiled the whip over his shoulder. “…you’d better learn how to survive.”

​Roe stared at him. The alley smelled of smoke and rot, and for the first time since leaving HearthGate, he wasn’t alone anymore.