Chapter 417: Lucas: Strange Symbols

LUCAS

What the hell is this?

Our fur bristles, but we can't linger on the shock of the moment.

The green circle pulses with an otherworldly glow, yet Aurum's paw passes through it as if it's nothing but air. No scent, no resistance.

Magic. Obviously.

Our attention turns to the bodies. There's something strange about them. Bloated, decaying, but somehow devoid of… bugs.

It's unnatural.

Unnatural, Aurum agrees with a growl. His agitation is high in here. Desecrated.

The stench of death fills my nose, but beneath it... Pack. My pack.

These bodies…

Yes, Aurum confirms. Pack.

Their faces, bloated and discolored though they are, are recognizable. Pack lost at different times in these past few months. The initial attack at Westwood. During the strange invasions. And more.

My feet carry me around the circle. Each step reveals another familiar face. Another pack member I failed to protect.

Five bodies total are pack. All who should have been laid to rest with proper rites, their spirits released to run free with the moon.

Instead, they're here. Defiled. Used for some sick ritual that makes me want to howl with rage.

The green circle pulses again, mocking us. Aurum wants to tear through the walls, hunt down every bloodsucker responsible for this desecration. But I force myself to stay focused, to memorize every detail.

They were preserved somehow. Kept from fully decomposing. We've seen some of our wolves brought back to life in some strange way, used as a zombie army; is this how it begins?

Or have they outlived their usefulness?

Too many questions. Too few answers.

Beneath the bodies we know, partially hidden, lie others. Fresher ones. Maybe humans. Maybe wolves from other packs.

thing remains constant. There's a strange mark on all of them. Strange, interlocked circles. An arm here. A chest there.

semi-preserved in this unnatural

rage simmers, mirroring

second, the air fills with the taste of copper and rot. Then nothing. But the bodies... the bodies are

Son of a bitch.

Track the scent!

whip out through the pack bond, even as I know it's too late. Whatever this is, it won't be that easy to

screams to chase after our pack members, to track down whoever dared desecrate their bodies. But we can't afford to

the green circle pulsed now shows bare ground, as if nothing

decay

existed. Death. Decay. Magic that burns my nose. And underneath

can't catch

won't give up that easily. Keep looking.

Whatever magic

ears itch. We are here. Signs of attack everywhere. A

our chest. Aurum's rage

We can see claw marks, broken buildings. But no bodies, living or dead. The

finally escape the sod house. Jericho would not

Perhaps.

tell Vester, already gathering

* * *

is as empty and ravaged as Vester reported. Unlike the sod house, though, there's a lot of scent to

can find traces of Jericho and his

scents paint a picture of chaos. Blood. Fear. Rage. Death lingers beneath it all, a stench that

to tell if

Found traces of Jericho's scent leading north, but it vanishes at the tree

methodically checking every corner. The vampires have left their stink everywhere.

my skin prickle. I follow it down a

stronger in what used to be a bedroom. A few books litter the floor, pages torn and scattered. A strange thing to find, I'd think. We don't

follows me,

the room, letting Aurum take

there. Ozone and

Magic.

of destroyed books. Beneath the heap, something pulses with energy. Not the sickly green

can't always sense it, but sometimes

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