The sun never quite rose over Blackridge the next morning.
It clawed its way through the gray like a wounded thing, casting long shadows that stretched unnaturally far. The woods were quiet. Too quiet. As though everything inside them was holding its breath.
Caleb moved quickly through the Pack House, Bex at his side, the folded note still burning in his pocket. "Blood seals the Hollow. But betrayal breaks it."
And the name: Ronan Hale.
The Beta. The enforcer. The one who'd led in Caleb's absence.
The one who might be tearing the pack apart from within.
They found Ronan training alone in the clearing behind the house, bare-chested, fists bloody from pummeling the old wooden dummies. His breath was steady. Too steady.
"I was wondering when you'd come," he said without turning.
Caleb stepped into the circle. "Found a note in the Hollow journal. Your symbol was on it."
Ronan froze. "It's not mine."
"Then why is it in your handwriting?"
Bex dropped the note between them.
Ronan stared at it, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable. For a moment, Caleb thought he'd lunge.
But instead, Ronan said, "Because I tried to stop it."
"What?"
"I found the sigils months ago. Buried in Elias's vault. Carved into stone with ancient rites. I thought—maybe I could seal the Hollow again before it awakened. But I was wrong. I used one. Just one."
He looked up, and for the first time in years, Caleb saw fear in Ronan's eyes.
"It answered back."
Bex narrowed her gaze. "So you summoned it."
"No," Ronan snapped. "But I called its attention. I was trying to protect the pack—same as I always have. I didn't know it was already inside the walls."
Caleb looked at him, uncertain.
"If you're lying—"
"Then kill me," Ronan said, stepping forward. "But I'd rather die fighting whatever's coming."
Caleb hesitated. Then nodded.
"Then let's hunt together. Like we used to."
⸻
That night, Lena stood at the center of the ruined chapel.
The sigil beneath the altar had begun to glow again, pulsing in time with her heart. She didn't know why she'd come here—only that it felt like home. Like hers.
The wind howled outside. The trees bent and twisted, bowing to something unseen.
And then the shadows moved.
From the forest, figures emerged. Cloaked. Silent. Their faces hidden. Each wore the crescent moon mark upon their robes.
They knelt around her.
The girl said nothing.
She lifted her hand.
The sigil blazed.
And the earth cracked open.
⸻
Back in Blackridge, Caleb shot awake.
He'd fallen asleep in the war room, his head buried in maps and prophecy fragments, but now the Pack Bond pulsed through him like wildfire.
Pain. Terror. Blood.
He bolted upright.
"Something's happening," he breathed.
He didn't have to say it — Bex was already running.
They met Ronan and Marla outside the infirmary.
"Another scout's gone," Marla said, voice tight. "Lucien's out tracking, but—"
The sky split with a roar.
Not thunder.
A scream.
High. Inhuman. And near.
They ran.
⸻
The scout was barely alive when they found him.
His name was Thorne. Young. Strong. Loyal.
Now he lay pinned to the forest floor, chest torn open, his eyes white with shadow. Black ichor bubbled from his mouth as he tried to speak.
Caleb knelt beside him. "Who did this?"
Thorne's lips moved.
But the voice that answered wasn't his.
"The girl carries the Hollow's will. The Alpha must fall."
Then his body arched — and burst into ash.
⸻
Lena stood barefoot in the chapel, her hair whipping in the storm wind that now spiraled above the ruins.
The cloaked figures around her began to chant. Their voices bled into one. A dark, rhythmic hum that shook the air.
Lena raised both hands.
And for the first time… her eyes bled silver.
Not tears.
Light.
A wave of energy burst from her — raw, ancient, and hungry. The cloaked figures bowed lower. Some collapsed. The trees around the chapel snapped and fell, their roots scorched.
And from the cracked altar, a shadow emerged.
Shapeless. Endless.
The Hollow had found its mouthpiece.
And she was ten years old.
⸻
Caleb stared into the trees, wind slashing at his coat. "We don't have days. We don't even have hours."
"She's manifesting," Elias said, having arrived with the others. "Fully. The Hollow's chosen her as its avatar. And unless we break that bond—"
"She'll tear the veil between worlds," Marla whispered. "And everything that sleeps beyond it will come through."
Caleb closed his eyes.
And suddenly—he was there.
Not in the forest. Not in the chapel.
But in a memory.
⸻
FLASHBACK – Six Years Ago
He was on his knees in the snow. Blood soaked the white around him. Three bodies lay nearby. One was a child.
Behind him, a voice whispered: "You can save them. You just have to open the gate."
He turned.
A woman. Pale. Eyes like winter. Cloaked in smoke.
He looked down at the child.
His sister.
Dead.
"Say the words," the woman urged. "Open the Hollow. Bring them back."
He did not speak.
He ran.
⸻
Back to Present
Caleb snapped out of it, gasping.
"The Hollow tempted me once," he said. "I didn't break. But she might."
Ronan grunted. "Then we go now. Before she's too far gone."
"No," Elias said sharply. "We need a tether. Something that can reach the girl's soul before the Hollow seals it off."
Marla looked up. "A blood bond."
Everyone turned to her.
"She's connected to the Hollow," Marla explained. "But she's also connected to him."
She looked at Caleb.
"Because she's your blood."
Silence.
Caleb's voice broke. "What?"
"She's your daughter," Marla said softly. "You never knew. Her mother died during your exile. We kept her hidden. Protected. Until the dreams started. Until it found her."
Caleb staggered back.
"Lena…"