The air was thick with dust and magic—old magic, the kind that seeped into the bones of forgotten ruins. Every step we took sent echoes bouncing off unseen walls, making it impossible to tell how deep we had fallen.
The passage stretched ahead, barely illuminated by the faint blue glow of mana-infused moss clinging to the cracked stone. The deeper we walked, the quieter it became—so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.
Vaelin moved like a shadow beside me, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
I still couldn't get over it.
He could talk.
I had spent a whole month sitting next to him, assuming he was some aloof loner with zero interest in conversation. Now, not only was he talking, but he seemed more knowledgeable than I expected.
"You've been down here before, haven't you?" I asked, glancing at him.
Vaelin shook his head. "No."
"Then how do you know so much about ruins?"
"I read."
I exhaled. Of course. Should've expected that answer.
We pressed on in silence, the only sound the distant drip of water and the occasional shuffle of loose gravel under our boots.
Then—
The air shifted.
A sharp, metallic scent flooded my nostrils, tinged with something… wrong. My grip tightened around the hilt of my sword, instincts screaming at me that something was coming.
Vaelin stopped.
"Do you smell that?" I asked, lowering my voice.
"Yes," he murmured. His eyes scanned the darkness ahead. "Blood."
My stomach twisted.
Then came the howling.
Faint. Distant.
Like voices carried by the wind.
I strained my ears, trying to make out the sounds, but they slipped past my mind, like they weren't meant to be understood. The growls grew louder, the growls overlapping—some howling some snarling, some barking.
Vaelin raised a hand, stopping me. "We're not alone."
The moment he said it, something crawled out of the darkness.
A figure.
At first glance, it looked like a dog.
But the moment it stepped into the dim light, I realized—it wasn't.
It's massive frame dwarfing even the largest of wolves. Its fur, a thick, wild coat of deep charcoal and russet, bristled in the cold night air, each strand seeming to drink in the moonlight rather than reflect it. Muscles coiled beneath its rugged hide, shifting like steel cables as it moved, every step deliberate, every motion a silent promise of raw power.
Its head was broad and formidable, its snout slightly shorter than that of a common wolf but packed with sheer, bone-crushing force. Jagged fangs, too large to be hidden behind its lips, gleamed in the dim glow, while its amber eyes burned like embers in the dark, filled with ancient hunger. Scars marred its muzzle—a testament to countless battles, each one a story of dominance and survival.
As it prowled forward, its massive paws sank into the earth, claws like daggers carving into the frostbitten ground. Unlike the swift and lean wolves of the wild, this beast was built for war—its legs shorter but thick with sinew, a creature of strength rather than speed. And yet, despite its overwhelming size, there was an eerie grace to its movement, a predator's elegance woven into every step.
A gust of wind swept through the clearing, carrying the scent of fresh blood, and the dire wolf's ears flicked forward. Its lips curled into a silent snarl, breath misting in the cold air. It was no mere animal. It was a relic of an older world, a beast forged in an age where only the strongest survived. And in this moment, with the darkness at its back and hunger in its eyes, it was clear—this was no simple predator.
But that was not the worst thing, its eyes—those were the worst part.
They were hollow, filled with darkness. Eyes that could kill anything with In it's sight.
Yet somehow, I felt them staring at me.
"Kael." Vaelin's voice was steady. "Stay calm."
The creature tilted its head, Then—
It lunged.
I barely had time to react.
I ducked, feeling the rush of air as its claws slashed where my head had been a second ago. My body moved on instinct—I rolled to the side, drawing my sword in one fluid motion.
But before I could strike—
Vaelin moved.
Faster than I thought possible.
His dagger flashed, cutting through the air. A single, precise movement—aimed directly at the creature's throat.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
The creature crumbled into dust.
The growl stopped.
Silence flooded back in.
I swallowed hard, exhaling. "Okay. What… the hell was that?"
Vaelin knelt, brushing his fingers through the remnants of the creature. "A dire wolf," he muttered. "A monster of the labyrinth."
I stiffened. "Monster? You mean there are more of these things?"
Vaelin didn't answer immediately. His gaze flicked back to the runes on the wall, his expression unreadable.
"The inscription." He murmured. "When in doubt, turn left."
I frowned. "What does that have to do with—"
And then I saw it.
A fork in the path.
It hadn't been there before.
My blood ran cold. The labyrinth was shifting.
Vaelin straightened, his voice calm as ever. "We don't have much time. We should move."
I swallowed my unease and nodded.
We turned left.
And as we stepped deeper into the ruins, the growls returned—louder than before.
Something was waiting for us.
And I had a feeling the worst was yet to come.
---
To Be Continued…