Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
Unnerved, my thoughts circle back to Ava. It’s hard to shake this sense of dread, and the urge to shift and check in through the watch grows stronger with every thud of my paws against the snow.
But, I tell myself, she’s capable. She’s grown so much, changed so much, in a short time. The flight risk that was my mate has become a capable Luna, despite the responsibilities I’ve heaped onto her shoulders.
Aurum huffs. Our mate is strong. These responsibilities will not break her.
Flat ground gives way to rolling hills. We’re close. There should be sentries. Signs of life.
Instead, there’s more silence.
My muscles coil with tension as we press forward.
A breeze cuts across the plains, carrying with it a scent that stops us dead in our tracks. Aurum’s nose lifts to the air, testing each note with growing unease.
Magic. It’s an itchy smell, not clean and pure like Ava’s. Something darker, like I’d imagine corruption to smell—not that the taint in our region has any scent, but if it did, I’d expect this.
And underneath it all, the unmistakable stench of death.
West, Aurum confirms. Miles from where Jericho’s camp should be.
The rest of our group fans out behind us, alert and waiting. No one needs to voice what we’re all thinking—this doesn’t bode well for what we might find at the camp.
Vester circles around to my right flank. This is not natural.
No. Aurum’s teeth bare at the air. It’s tainted.
His hackles bristle, his tail down. We should investigate.
It’s not a question. The scent speaks of danger, and as Alpha, I can’t ignore a threat this close to my people. But time works against us—every minute we spend tracking this magic is another minute something could be happening at the camp. Another minute we fall behind chasing the ghosts of our pack.
Aurum’s golden eyes narrow against the horizon as I think it through. We split the group. Send scouts ahead to the camp while we check the source. It’s the logical choice, even as my instincts rail against dividing our forces when we don’t know what we’re walking into.
Four with me, I decide. The rest of you continue to the camp. Stay alert and wait for our signal before approaching.
It only takes a minute. Six of my wolves, including Vester, then peel away, heading north toward the camp. I watch until they disappear over a ridge, then turn west.
The wind shifts, bringing another wave of that putrid magic. This time, there’s something else with it.
Something strange and familiar.
* * *
Snow whispers beneath our paws as we shimmy our way up the last rolling hill. My wolves fan out behind me, their movements precise and controlled despite the uneven terrain. That scent of dark magic and decay is strong enough to make a grown man puke.
Being in wolf form might seem like it would make it worse, but it’s actually easier to handle this way.
The hilltop reveals nothing at first glance. Just more endless snow and winter-dead grass. But there—a subtle difference in the landscape’s contours catches my eye. What I initially took for another snow drift…
Alpha, one of my wolves confirms. Structure ahead.
The wind shifts, and Aurum’s nose twitches. The stench hits us full force now. My teeth bare involuntarily.
A sod house. I haven’t seen many of those in my life. Earth and grass are packed together to form walls, now buried under winter’s blanket. If I hadn’t been looking for something out of place, I might have missed it entirely. Smart.
Despite the lack of any signs of life, I remain cautious in my approach.
Circle around, I order two of my wolves. Check for other entrances.
My remaining guards take position as I approach the crude doorway. No tracks mar the snow—not even animal prints. Like the plains we crossed, this place exists in unnatural isolation.
The door hangs crooked. Through the gap, absolute darkness waits. That putrid magic pulses from within, making my fur stand on end.
No other ways in or out, my scouts report. The walls are solid.
One entrance. One exit. A perfect trap, if that’s what this is.
Hold position here, I command. Alert me to any movement.
I nose the door wider. The hinges creak, the sound sharp in the dead silence. Aurum’s senses stretch to their limit, testing each breath for threats.
The corruption is overwhelming inside, but underneath it… something familiar teases at my memory. Something I should recognize.
That scent, Aurum growls. We know it.
But from where? Recent days blur together in an endless parade of crises.
I take another step inside. My eyes adjust to the gloom, revealing bare earthen walls and a dirt floor. No furniture. No signs of habitation.
Just a pile of bodies rotting in the center of the floor, surrounded by a sickly green circle.
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LUCAS
What the hell is this?
Our fur bristles, but we can’t linger on the shock of the moment.
The green circle pulses with an otherworldly glow, yet Aurum’s paw passes through it as if it’s nothing but air. No scent, no resistance.
Magic. Obviously.
Our attention turns to the bodies. There’s something strange about them. Bloated, decaying, but somehow devoid of… bugs.
It’s unnatural.
Unnatural, Aurum agrees with a growl. His agitation is high in here. Desecrated.
The stench of death fills my nose, but beneath it… Pack. My pack.
These bodies…
Yes, Aurum confirms. Pack.
Their faces, bloated and discolored though they are, are recognizable. Pack lost at different times in these past few months. The initial attack at Westwood. During the strange invasions. And more.
My feet carry me around the circle. Each step reveals another familiar face. Another pack member I failed to protect.
Five bodies total are pack. All who should have been laid to rest with proper rites, their spirits released to run free with the moon.
Instead, they’re here. Defiled. Used for some sick ritual that makes me want to howl with rage.
The green circle pulses again, mocking us. Aurum wants to tear through the walls, hunt down every bloodsucker responsible for this desecration. But I force myself to stay focused, to memorize every detail.
They were preserved somehow. Kept from fully decomposing. We’ve seen some of our wolves brought back to life in some strange way, used as a zombie army; is this how it begins?
Or have they outlived their usefulness?
Too many questions. Too few answers.
Beneath the bodies we know, partially hidden, lie others. Fresher ones. Maybe humans. Maybe wolves from other packs.
But one thing remains constant. There’s a strange mark on all of them. Strange, interlocked circles. An arm here. A chest there. One has it on their face.
All semi-preserved in this unnatural state.
Aurum’s rage simmers, mirroring my own.
The green circle flares. For a split second, the air fills with the taste of copper and rot. Then nothing. But the bodies… the bodies are gone.
Son of a bitch.