Meanwhile...
The wizard had done his homework. He'd seen the weak pack members dying throughout the years of exile. Their God or Goddess- whatever- didn't seem to care much for them. They mostly descended into madness because their former alpha- yes, Varian here is not an alpha in any sense at all. He'd lost his power when he was thrown out of his pack. Varian and maybe hundreds of his followers were allowed to flee safely. Malakar supposed they remained loyal to him, which is why they looked to Varian still as their leader. But the bond that once united them was shattered. Usually, they become feral and attack anything in sight- even their families.
Starvation gnaws at their sanity, which would aid in driving them to do desperate self-destructive acts. Lacking the alpha's stabilizing influence is what spirals them into turmoil and their sense of purpose. The pack would disintegrate into a frenzied chaotic mass, tearing itself apart from within until nothing remains but desolation.
Usually.
Varian's pack survived out here in the wild- most of them reverting to their wolf's side. He supposed it was the smarter thing to do to adapt out here. More stupid because the ones that didn't change back to their human selves die earlier than the others.
Regular wolves' life spans are much shorter, he supposed.
Malakar cringed, thinking of how they must have eaten since them- raw meat from the wild animals.
And they have survived the reign of three alphas of their former pack since. Pretty impressive.
Varian remained where he was on the wet floor, thinking. He couldn't move yet. His leg might be broken and most likely would never heal because of his age. He most likely would die now from the injury. Taking down this rival pack would solidify his dominance, and if Malakar could help him achieve that, perhaps the risk was worth it.
His ancestors were protectors of the caves, though he never knew why- even they didn't know. All that was passed down was to protect whatever secrets it held inside with their lives if they must. This is why the treaty was made with the alpha that dominated him- to allow him and those that would follow him to relocate to the Black Mountain ruins and reside the last of their days there.
Varian believed the mountains hid something that needed guarding.
Now, with death's door approaching, he wondered again. Was it worth it? His entire life was gone with nothing to show for it. He had no heir of his own, and while he was glad for it, he was also saddened. Glad to have no blood of his burdened by this, sad because of the same reason. There was no one left to guard what he had spent his life protecting.
Rain once again began drizzling.
"What's your plan?" Varian finally asked, his tone cautious.
Malakar's smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. "Simple. White Mountain's pack is strong, yes, but you know they are dependent on the bond they share. Their unity is their strength, but also their greatest weakness. I have a spell- an ancient one- that can sow discord among them, turning packmates against one another."
Wet on the floor still, Varian listened intently. He could already envision the chaos such a spell would unleash. His former pack, renowned for their loyalty and coordination, would crumble if they turned on each other. Varian didn't want that.
If he was to dominate a pack, then it should be him, not a spell from within.
Malakar waved a hand dismissively. "Once his pack is in disarray, he will be vulnerable. I have another spell that will weaken him, make him susceptible to your claws."
Varian considered this. The plan was sound, and though he despised relying on a wizard, he knew that this was the most efficient way to ensure his supremacy. But trust was not something he extended easily. "And if you betray me, wizard?" he asked, his voice laced with a threat.
Malakar's smile faded slightly, replaced by a seriousness that was rare for him. "I wouldn't dare. Your wrath is something even I do not wish to incur."
Varian, now soaked, couldn't tell if the wizard was joking or not. His wrath? Hah, at the moment, his blood was spilling out into the rain, and if the wizard left now, it would be his end. "How does this benefit me, wizard, if I am d*ad?"
The hunched man stooped low to gaze into Varian's fading eyes. "I thought you cared for your pack more than anything?"
With what felt like his last minutes on earth, Varian mumbled, "What good does it do my perishing pack if you ruin our former one? We aimed to protect all that we considered sacred, and we achieved it."
"ARE YOU DYING RIGHT NOW?" Malakar shouted the words, hopping from one foot to the other as the man on the mossy forest bed, eyes closed. It was then he noted his shallow breathing, and he grabbed his wrist. His energy was low- too low.
Malakar released a long line of cuss words, his hands fisting as he did so. This old fool was his last option to break the barriers to the Lycan world. He couldn't very well get the other alpha from the other side of the mountain to casually take a walk with him here and open the runes for him, could he? Even with his last breaths, he remained unchanging, proving him wrong when he thought he would be an easy defeat.
He could not allow his death. Not when he needed the blood of the bloodline who had aided in the incantation in the first place to open it. And this old fool was the last- unless by some miracle he had an illegitimate child out there somewhere.
Angered, he decided to give his last remaining powers a go to heal the injury. That would leave him drained and vulnerable again. He hated living in this mosquito-infested place but sacrifices and such. What are a few months to wait again?
Varian could feel his wound healing, but he halted the chanting with, "How is healing a broken bone in an old body doing me any good? Leave me to die."
Malakar halted his chanting, and his hands dropped by his side. Fine. If not beat them, then join them, right? Or something along those lines.
In the darkened forest, where the moonlight barely pierced through the dense canopy, the drenched man walked with an air of authority around the bleeding one, whose breathing was now shallow. There was only one other option for them both, Malakar decided and picked up his chanting once more, only this time he was using a different set of words.
Dark necromancy words flowed out of his thin lips as he called upon the deities whom he knew would aid him in his quest.
"Cosmic threads that weave our fates, I call upon three. The forces that bind our souls, I call on thee, take our essence and unite our spirits into one vessel, forever entwined and inseparable."
The old man could feel himself levitating, and Rael frowned. He had already accepted his death. Suddenly, his body felt ticklish but not in a giggling sort of way. His head swarmed with the sounds of rushing blood as his world turned upside down before everything went dark.
But before all went blank, he heard the cackling of the one known as Malakar, whose voice altered to one that could only be described as possessed.
Hours later, Varian, the once-powerful werewolf leader, was stripped of most human frailties, but a flicker of his former self remained. And out from the tattered, soaked robe rose the body of a man in his twenties, partially covered in silt-like mud. Naked. His long black hair- soaked from the heavy downpour now- hung low as the head lifted.
Well-defined physique, lean toned muscles. His face is symmetrical and chiselled and complimented by clear, unblemished skin. Straight, long nose and piercing blue eyes. Thick eyebrows, and a well-defined chin with thick rosy-red lips.
He smirked as he wiggled his toes in the mud of the forested floor, long straight hair dangling as he bent to see the view, walking out from the cloak he once wore. His tongue darted out and rubbed against the pointed fangs. Then he released a ferocious cry- so loud that the forest shook.