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Chapter 9
The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the gnarled walls of Fenris’s tree sanctuary as Lyra carefully laid out the ancient grimoire. Its weathered pages crackled softly as she opened it, revealing intricate diagrams and densely packed text in a language long forgotten by most.
Fenris leaned in, his amber eyes scanning the arcane symbols with intense curiosity. “I’ve never seen writing like this before. Can you read it?”
Lyra nodded, her fingers hovering reverently over the delicate parchment. “Most of it, yes. It’s an ancient form of witches’ script, passed down through generations of my coven. But there are portions…” She frowned, pointing to a particularly complex passage. “Here, for example. This seems to be in a different language entirely. Something older, more primal.”
Fenris squinted at the text, a look of recognition dawning on his face. “Wait, I know these symbols. They’re similar to the runes used in werewolf pack lore. I can’t read them fluently, but I might be able to help decipher their meaning.”
Lyra’s emerald eyes lit up with excitement. “You see? This is exactly why the prophecy called for our alliance. Together, we have a chance of unraveling its mysteries.”
Despite her enthusiasm, Fenris’s expression remained guarded. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Even if we can translate the text, interpreting prophecies is notoriously tricky business. One misread word could send us off in entirely the wrong direction.”
“You’re right, of course,” Lyra conceded, trying to temper her eagerness. “We need to approach this methodically. Perhaps we should start with what we know for certain and work our way out from there.”
Fenris nodded, settling himself more comfortably on the root-bench. “Alright, then. What do we know?”
Lyra took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. “The prophecy speaks of three signs that will herald the coming darkness. The first is the blood moon, which we’ve already witnessed. The second…” She paused, her gaze flickering to Fenris. “The second is the howl of the lone wolf.”Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.
A shadow passed over Fenris’s features. “And you believe that’s me.”
“It fits, doesn’t it?” Lyra said gently. “You’re a werewolf who’s separated from his pack, living alone in these woods. And our meeting… it can’t be mere coincidence.”
Fenris was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight. When he spoke, his voice was low and tinged with an emotion Lyra couldn’t quite place. “If you’re right, then my exile might have doomed us all.”
Lyra reached out instinctively, placing her hand on Fenris’s arm. “Or it might have saved us. If you hadn’t been here, in these woods, we might never have found each other. The prophecy brought us together for a reason, Fenris.”
He met her gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his amber eyes before he quickly looked away. “What’s the third sign?”
Lyra withdrew her hand, turning her attention back to the grimoire. “The awakening of the ancient ones. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but given the other signs we’ve seen, I fear it may have already begun.”
Fenris’s brow furrowed. “Those shadow wolves we encountered… could they be connected?”
“It’s possible,” Lyra mused. “They certainly didn’t seem like natural creatures. If the barriers between worlds are weakening, all manner of ancient and forgotten beings might be stirring.”
As if in response to her words, a distant howl echoed through the forest, causing both Lyra and Fenris to tense. It was answered by another, closer this time, and then another.
“That’s not good,” Fenris growled, rising to his feet. He moved to the entrance of their sanctuary, placing his hand on the bark and murmuring a few words. The air around them seemed to thicken, and Lyra felt a surge of protective magic wash over the space.
“Will we be safe here?” she asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. Fenris turned back to her, his expression grim. “For now. But we can’t stay here indefinitely. Those howls… they’re not from any normal wolf pack. Something’s hunting, and I have a feeling it’s hunting us.”