Chapter 134

-Grayson’s POV-

Alaric’s words hit me like a punch to the gut, the weight of them sinking deep into my chest. The chamber seemed colder now, the glow of the carvings along the walls dimming as if the room itself was reacting to the tension in the air.

“What are you talking about?” My voice was quieter now, though no less sharp. “What does Ava have to do with this?”

Alaric’s ever–present smile remained, his dark eyes glinting with knowing light. “Everything.”

That single word sent a chill down my spine, the kind that no amount of fire or fury could warm away. Whatever calm I had left dissolved in an instant.

“What do you mean, everything?” I snapped. “If you know something, say it. Stop speaking in riddles.”

Alaric tilted his head slightly, an infuriating gesture of patience that only stoked my frustration. Then he took a step closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “Let me show you how it all began. Come.”

I hesitated, glancing at Rickon, who lay unconscious on the cold stone floor. The steady rise and fall of his chest reassured me that he was merely asleep. Somehow, Alaric sensed my hesitation.

“Do not worry,” he said smoothly, gesturing to the shadows. “I will have him moved to a place of comfort and safety. Focus on what you are about to learn. It is the reason you are here.”

The subtle command in his tone made my wolf bristle, but I nodded, following him as he moved deeper into the chamber. The carvings on the walls grew more intricate, glowing faintly in hues of gold and silver. Then we stopped in front of a wall where the carvings formed an enormous mural, etched with stunning precision. Alaric gestured to the first image.

“This is where it begins,” he said, his voice low and reverent.

The mural depicted a lush, sprawling forest under the light of a full moon. Wolves ran freely, their bodies blending seamlessly with the natural world around them.

“Just as my people live now, the realm once existed in peace,” Alaric began, his tone steady and rhythmic, drawing me in. “It was a time before leaders, before titles, before ambition. Werewolves lived as one great pack, bound by the unity of the moon’s blessing. For centuries, perhaps longer, they roamed together without conflict. Every wolf had a place, and no wolf sought more than they needed.”

I could almost see it–the harmony, the ease of a world without struggle for dominance. But I could also feel the faint undercurrent of inevitability in his words, like the calm before a storm.

“What changed?” I asked, my voice quieter now, curiosity overpowering my irritation.

he gestured to the next part of the mural. Here, the wolves seemed smaller,

first division. A single act that sowed the seed of

of a deer. The

The harmony they had known began to crumble, and with it, the sense of unity that had bound them together. They no longer saw themselves

his words settling over me like a heavy cloak. The mural shifted again, showing

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Chapter 134

away from one another, their backs to

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into divisions,” Alaric said, his voice taking on a harder edge. “Wolves began to form smaller groups—what we now call packs. Each pack chose its strongest, its smartest, its most cunning to lead them. And

high, each surrounded by others who knelt in deference. But there was no unity here,

new Alphas. They sought to prove their superiority, to claim territory power, and dominance. Wars broke out, battles that left the land soaked in blood and the air

eye–the chaos, the violence, the endless struggle

a whisper. “Where were they

It was a scene of a wolf larger than any other, its fur as dark as the night sky, standing

“He was not born into ambition, nor did he seek power for its own sake. His name was Caelan. Just Caelan with no name attached. He was a wolf of unparalleled strength,

at the image, the weight of it sinking in.

he do it?”

this time. “Caelan understood that to unite the wolves, he had to rise above them. He had to prove that he was not

combat.”

locked in battle with wolves of all sizes, his

victorious.

battle, he proved himself worthy. The Alphas

air like a weighty truth, and I felt a

name Blackwood,” I pressed, “where

as he moved to the final part of the mural. It showed Caelan standing beneath a massive tree, its branches twisted and blackened, its

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