The moment my boots touched the ground, a sliver ran down my spine.
The alt here was different–thick with something old, something bedry. It pressed down on my chest, seeping into my bones like a memory long buried hat never truly forgotten. The ruins around is fetched be the bones of a fallen beast–crumbling walls, shattered pillars, and an eerie silence that settled deep inside me, cold and unshakable.
And yet, despite the decay, despite the passage of time, I knew this ace.
I had never been here before, not truly, but I knew it.
A strange, visceral familiarity crept over me, making the hair on my arms stand an end. My fingers twitched at my sides, itching to reach out and touch the stones, to confirm what my soul already seemed to understand.
“This place…” I whispered, my voice barely above the wind.
Austin stepped forward, his brows furrowed as he surveyed the ruins. “Where are we?”
Isaiah ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the tense set of his shoulders. “We should be at the Sacred Hall. I put in the coordinates exactly.”
Elijah shot him a look. “Are you sure about that?”
Isaiah frowned, checking the enchanted compass in the car. He stared at the numbers, his expression shifting from confusion to something close to disbelief.
. “…I was one digit off,” he admitted. “Just one.”
Alex groaned, rubbing his temples. “Are you serious? One wrong digit and we get sent here instead of the Sacred Hall?”
Isaiah didn’t answer, still staring at the map as if trying to make sense of it. But I barely heard them. My heart pounded as I took a step forward, fingers brushing against the rough, cold stone of a fallen pillar.
I knew this place.
The realization hit me like a physical blow, making my knees weak.
“This is where the massacre happened.” I whispered,
The group fell silent.
Elijah was the first to speak. “What massac
massacre?”
I turned to face them, my fingers tightening against the stone as memories that weren’t mine clawed their way to the surface, forcing their way into my mind like ghosts demanding to be heard.
“The Silvermoon line,” I said, my throat tightening. “This is where they were slaughtered. My ancestors.”
Llooked around again, but this time, I saw more than just ruins. I say what had been–what had been lost.
The air carried whispers of the past, echoes of screams, the crackle of flames.
This had been a grand castle once, standing proud beneath the stars It had been ours.
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Chapter 158
And then they had come.
Shadows had poured over the walls like an unrelenting tide, and everything burned.
My breath came faster, my pulse taring. The visions hit me in flashi
The roar of fire consumming the halls
The screams of the innocent.
The metallic scent of blood thick in the air.
The cold laughter of the ones who had orchestrated it all.
I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself, but the griet, the eng ground beneath my feet.
was all here, Trapped in the stones,
- woven into
the
very
Isaiah stepped closer, concern etched into his features. “Storm17”
I forced myself to look at him.
“This wasn’t a mistake,” I said, my voice shaking. “Coming here. It wasn’t just some wrong turn.”
Isaiah frowned. “But I put in the ΝΤΟΠΕ coordinates.”
“Or maybe,” I whispered, “you put in exactly what was meant to be.
No one spoke for a moment. The wind howled through the ruins, carrying the scent of damp earth and something older, something forgotten
Alex rubbed the
back of his neck. “Alright, so… what now?”
I looked around again, but this time, I wasn’t just seeing ruins. I was seeing a message.
“This is a reminder,” I said. “A reminder of why we’re doing this.”
Isaiah exhaled, nodding slowly. The Silvermoon line. The Shadow Weaver took everything from them.
“From us,” I corrected.
Because this wasn’t just history.
It was my history.
The weight of it settled deep in my bones. I had always known what we were fighting for, but standing here, in the ashes of my ancestors‘ home, it became something more than a mission.
It became personal.
I took another step forward, the wind shifting as if it, too, carried the voices of the past. Beneath my fingertips, the stone was ice- cold, yet the air felt thick with the heat of a fire long extinguished.
I closed my eyes, and for a moment, the ruins around me faded.
I could see it. The castle, proud and untouched, its towers reaching toward the sky. The banners of the Silvermoon crest billowing in
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Chapter 158.
the wind. The people my ancestors–Jaighing, walking these hallengeix Hous
They had arrived in the dead of night. Shadows with eyes that burn like embers: The air had been thick with the scent of magic corrupted, twisted. I heard the clash of steel, the screams of the fallen, the way the walls trembled as fire consumed them.
And I saw it.
My breath hitched as the vision sharpened.
A massive silver volt, its fur gleaming like moonlight, stoud at the part of the battlefield. Its piercing white eyes burned with determination, and its body was covered in intricate armor, etched with symbols that pulsed with an ancient prower.
It fought with a ferocity that sent shadows scattering, its claws raking through the darkness, its fangs snapping shut on an enemy that barely had time to scream. Magic crackled in the air around and untamed, the very ground trembling beneath its might.
But even the strongest warrior couldn’t stand against an army alone.
The shadows overwhelmed it, surging forward like a relentless tide. The wolf snarled, refusing to back down, refusing to surrender, even as tire raged around it, even as the walls of the Silvermnon stronghold collapsed in on themselves.
My pulse pounded in my ears. This wasn’t just a random vision. This was my past. My bloodline.
The wolf had fought for my people, for their survival.
And it had died for them.
My chest tightened as the image flickered, the silver wolf letting out one last, defiant howl before it was swallowed by the darkness. Then, everything shattered–the vision, the battlefield, the past–leaving her breathless in the ruins, my body trembling with the weight of what I had seen.
Isaiah stepped closer, his brows drawn together in concem. “Stormi?!
I barely heard him. My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my falms.
That wolf… It had been the last protector of the Silvermoon line. It was the Silver wolf
And now, I was the only one left. My gaze lifted to the ruins arounds, and for the first time, I didn’t just feel the echoes of the past–I embraced them.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, casting one last glance at the rules.
The
past had led me here for a reason.
And I would not fail.
Because now, I understood..
The past wasn’t just something to be remembered.
It was something to be avenged.
And I would see it done
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The Omene Mated to the Four
