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| Jackson |
They just kept coming, almost as if they were spectres clawing their way out of long-forgotten graves. The eerie symphony of snarls and screeches echoed through the desolation, leaving a sinister undertone that mingled with the stench of decaying blood.
As the cadejo horde advanced, it seemed as though the very earth had birthed them, an army of the damned racing towards Jackson and his packmates. Their grotesque forms, animated by a malevolent force, cast elongated shadows on the frozen landscape.
"On your right!" Wesley's voice shattered the frigid air, a desperate warning slicing through the night.
Julian, with a mixture of fear and instinct, swung around, colliding with a cadejo that materialized from the shadows. The creature's visage peeled away, its skin sticking to Julian's paw like a grotesque souvenir.
With a furious snarl, the wounded cadejo lunged at Julian, but Jackson intervened, crashing his body into the beast before it could bite his friend. The creature tumbled across the frozen ground, leaving behind a trail of rotten ooze.
Panting, Julian managed a strained, "Thanks," his eyes reflecting the horror of the unfolding nightmare.
The relentless onslaught continued, a ceaseless tide of undead monstrosities overwhelming them. Cyrus' Beta, Clint, dispatched the fallen cadejo, and Jackson, torn between the urge to unleash the formidable power of the inimă and the fear of losing control, chose to use the brute strength at his disposal. Each blow echoed through the night, a futile attempt to push back the inexorable wave of death.
But he could only do so much, and the cadejo were still coming.
"Where the hell are they coming from?!" Wesley's desperate inquiry lingered in the air, unanswered and unsettling.
More and more cadejo emerged from the forest's dark depths; this part of the woods seemed to harbour an otherworldly secret, releasing its macabre inhabitants with every passing moment. It made Jackson wonder whether Kane had unleashed the horde trapped in the canyon; it was the only explanation that made sense.
And if Kane had freed the pit of rotting creatures, then rotting wolves were the least of their problems. Sirens, brutes, prowlers—and God only knew what else—would be among the swarm, and the very thought of facing variants sent a paralyzing shiver down Jackson's spine.
But he couldn't become distracted. He stuck close to Julian, helping them take down any cadejo that came their way. Wesley and his Epsilons were handling their line well, but panicked cries and pained yelps echoed through the forest, drowning out the savage tournament between Kane and Cyrus. The others were in trouble—Jackson didn't know who, but every wolf was his ally, and if he could help, he would.
A flurry of blue and white light suddenly lit up the dark, and distorted wails and roars cut through the sound of the horde. Jackson watched as Sebastien swooped down and took out an entire group of cadejo with several balls of sizzling blue flames, and on the other side of the forest, Maleki's white fire obliterated the cadejo like water flooding an ant nest.
A sudden spectral burst of blue and white erupted, violently piercing the suffocating darkness. The twisted cries and distorted roars of cadejo echoed loudly, intertwining with the malevolent noise of the undead horde.
Jackson's eyes widened as Sebastien descended from the shadowy heights. The winged hound conjured balls of sizzling blue flames from his jaws, each flicker a macabre dance of incandescent death. The azure inferno consumed an entire group of cadejo, casting grotesque shadows that writhed and contorted in the unholy radiance.
Across the desolate expanse, Maleki unleashed his eerie powers. A spectral white fire, as cold as the icy grip of death, surged forth, engulfing the cadejo on the opposite flank. The malevolent entities crumbled and dissipated like fragile illusions, their tortured forms obliterated by the relentless deluge of spectral flames.
Yet, despite the intervention, an unsettling chill lingered in the air—a palpable reminder that the forces at play were beyond the comprehension of even Cyrus' elite wolves.
Something big moved through the darkness.
Jackson turned his head, setting his eyes on the mass of undead that his allies were struggling against. He searched with his eyes as his heart raced in his chest, the taste of cadejo blood in his maw making him feel nauseous.
"Jackson!" came Julian's panicked voice.
He snapped out of it and raced to his friend's aid; he sunk his teeth into the cadejo's back leg and pulled it away from Julian, and Brando burst out of the dark and helped Julian rip the beast's heart out.
A monstrous presence slithered through the encompassing darkness, a sinister force that stirred the very shadows it traversed.
Jackson's attention was snatched from the chaos unfolding before him to the gloom behind the endless horde; he felt a primal unease gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, that feeling...that terrifying urge that something terrible was imminent.
Julian's urgent cry sliced through the disorienting haze, yanking Jackson from the depths of his horrified contemplation. Reacting on instinct, he lunged towards his friend's distress, sinking his teeth into the sinewy back leg of a cadejo. With a grotesque dance of feral brutality, Brando emerged from the oppressive shadows; together, they tore the beast apart, extracting its still-beating heart in a macabre ritual to free it from its tortured existence.
But then a harrowing growl bellowed through the battle. The guttural sound sent a shiver down Jackson's spine, freezing him in place. Lifting his head, he scanned the gloom, his senses on high alert, his heart racing.
A hauntingly familiar voice seeped through the darkness, calling to him, "Harmonic...variant." The words dripped with an eerie resonance, leaving Jackson paralyzed with dread.
And then he saw it. The looming silhouette of a colossal, mangled wolf, its horrifying visage peering at him from between two trees. It towered enough to be a Prime—maybe a prowler—but its body remained obscured in the enveloping shadows, and with each passing moment, Jackson's instincts urged him more and more to flee.
To run.
To get the hell out of there.
He was in danger, and both his wolf and demon instincts seemed to quiver.
"Jackson!" came Damon's voice, bringing immediate relief to Jackson's horrified, still body.
He turned to face his mate's call, and when he set his eyes on the white-furred Alpha, he exhaled in relief.
Damon joined the battle; he seamlessly melded into the fray, an ethereal force of resilience amidst the chaos. Each swipe of his formidable claws dismantled the cadaverous horde, his presence infusing his packmates with a newfound vigour—the strength they so desperately craved.
Jackson, fuelled by a renewed determination, wielded his raw power to stagger another cadejo; Damon's colossal paw then pierced through the beast's chest to extract its putrid heart. And then they moved on to the next cadejo, and the next, and the next, working together to take them down.
But unlike a living pack, the undead remained oblivious to their inherent disadvantage, mindlessly persisting in their onslaught. The unwavering unity of the living countered each advance, rendering the corpses helpless. And although the cadejo kept coming, snarling and snapping their jaws, every single one was torn apart before it could get close.
In the midst of the relentless struggle, hope began to weave through the air, dispelling the once oppressive atmosphere like smoke in the wind. Their stoic Alpha radiated a quiet assurance that encouraged the once-struggling pack...but Jackson's feeling didn't fade.
Something else was out there in the dark. Something big. Something dangerous. Something unlike anything the pack had faced.
And his instincts still urged him to run.
"What do we do, boss?" Wesley asked Damon the moment they had a chance to breathe.
Damon huffed and looked over his shoulder at the battle still happening between Kane and Cyrus. "We have to keep fighting until Cyrus wins."
"Heads up!" Clint called.
They turned to face the incoming cadejo.
"They just keep coming!" Leon exclaimed.
"Kane probably unleashed them all from the pit," Julian panted, their face riddled with terror.
"Which means we'll be facing more than just standard cadejo," Brando said.
Just as Jackson had told himself—just as he'd hypothesized—it might very well be true that the cadejo pit was flooding free like a broken dam. And he wasn't going to take any risks. "I saw something," he told them all. "I-I don't know if it was a prowler or some other kind of variant, but it was big, and it said something that the prowler I came across said."
"Could it be the same prowler?" Ezhno questioned.
But there wasn't time for a discussion.
"Fight now, talk later!" Damon instructed and grabbed the throat of a cadejo which lunged out of the dark.
Jackson helped his packmates take down the corpses, but no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't dismiss the horrible feeling that something was coming.
"I have one of my feelings," he warned Damon, his voice barely audible over the gruesome sounds of tearing flesh and snarls. As they dismantled the decaying creature, Jackson's eyes darted nervously, haunted by a lingering unease. "I saw something in the woods just now. I-I don't know, but I think we need to hurry up and get out of here, Damon. I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched."
Damon's snarl echoed through the dense, shadowy forest as he ripped the heart from another cadejo. "Where did you see it?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing with predatory intensity.
Jackson pointed his trembling paw towards the two gnarled trees, where the blurred visage had materialized. "Over there," he stammered.
"Advance!" Damon commanded, his voice cutting through the eerie stillness.
The fighting pack surged forward, relentless in their assault on the cadejo.
As they approached the trees, Jackson's heart raced, drowning out the sound of the battle. A suffocating sense of dread enveloped him, rendering him motionless. He struggled against the paralyzing fear, knowing his pack relied on him; he moved hesitantly, his paws heavy with the weight of impending doom. Alongside Damon, he assisted his packmates, tearing through rotting wolves. As they reached the trees, he steeled himself for a confrontation with the unknown, preparing to unleash the inimă.
However, to his bewilderment, there was nothing. No looming creature, no spectral presence. Only the relentless onslaught of more cadejo, casting an unsettling shadow over the desolate woods.
"There's nothing here, Jackson," Damon said as he looked around.
"More undead!" Clint called.
Jackson watched his allies fight off the cadejo. He couldn't ignore the feeling, though—it was still there. He felt like he was being watched. He felt like something was waiting to pounce. But what? Where? He looked around, his heart racing, his instincts still insisting that he fled.
He had to find it.
He had to know what he saw between those trees.
After he helped Julian take down a cadejo, he stared into the gloom. He trembled in fear, but he wouldn't let it win. With a determined huff, he rushed off, hurrying deeper into the woods. He swerved past the cadejo, avoiding their snapping jaws, and when he saw so far away that he couldn't hear the battle anymore...he stopped.
The snow beneath his paws quivered, not from the wind but from an unseen force that sent shivers through Jackson's fur. His heart thumped in his chest as he glanced around; the air was thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the sharp, whistling breeze that carried the scent of death.
Jackson shivered in trepidation; the weight of unseen eyes made him feel vulnerable, exposed to whatever was lingering in the shadows. Each passing moment intensified the scrutiny, an invisible predator assessing whether to strike or wait for the opportune moment.
A sudden snap cut through the stillness, a branch breaking under an unknown force.
Something stirred in the darkness ahead, a subtle shuffling that sent a chill down Jackson's spine.
The silence shattered with a low, rumbling growl, a sound that seemed to echo from the depths of an abyss.
It was here.
Jackson's muscles tensed involuntarily, his breath trembling in the frigid air. His legs threatened to give way, but fear rooted him to the spot, turning him into a helpless spectator in his own nightmare.
That ominous voice whispered to him. "Harmonic...variant. Perfect...."
It had to be the prowler, the one that had spoken to him before the arrival of Raphael and his team.
Jackson stared into the darkness, watching as a stream of breath cut through the cold behind the trees. Heavy footsteps thumped closer, the snow crunching beneath each step.
And then he saw it.
The humongous silhouette of a bipedal creature, grotesquely taller than its initial appearance. What might have seemed like an Amarok twisted by the cadejo curse now revealed itself with antlers on its head, adorned with dangling vines. The ground quivered beneath the creature's colossal form, and its breaths, deep and sinister, cut through the cold air, snarling with a twisted excitement—a malevolence that seemed almost pleased to see Jackson.
"Finally," it breathed, gripping the tree beside it was its twisted, mangled claws.
It edged its face out of the darkness...and Jackson stifled a horrified gasp.
The vines dangling from its massive antlers weren't vines but long, spindling cuts of flesh. Its face had no skin, revealing a dark, rotting skull with eyes as red as blood inside its deep sockets, and between those eyes sat a strange sigil carved into its bone.
It had to be a cadejo variant; the creature reeked of death, and what patches of fur that clung to its rotting body were a contorting mixture of orange and black.
Jackson stared up at it, shivering as fear won control of his body.
The creature grinned, baring a jaw full of sharp, jagged teeth. And with a pleased exhale, it whispered, "Jackson."
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