The first scream came from the edge of the Ashlands.
A sound no Moonborn had heard in over a century—a cry not of rage or pain, but of hunger.
Kael had heard it once in his nightmares.
Now, it was real.
---
The Death Trail
Kael, Sylah, Lina, and a vanguard of handpicked warriors raced across the ravaged land east of Volkrath. The air thickened with soot and rot. The trees grew thinner, their trunks twisted and hollow, as though something had sucked the life out of the very roots.
The Ashlands were cursed.
Not by magic.
But by memory.
This was where the Crimson Council made their last stand. Where the Eclipse Queen had whispered her last breath. And now, where a deeper evil had begun to stir again.
They followed the trail of slaughter—burned-out camps, claw-marked stone, blood sigils painted in spiral patterns.
No scent lingered.
No beasts dared approach.
Only silence followed them.
---
The First Encounter
On the third night, just before moonrise, they found the survivors.
Five of them.
Moonborn scouts from the Redmane pack—bloody, trembling, and blindfolded with silver-woven cloth.
Kael approached cautiously. "What happened?"
One whispered, "We saw… the Howl."
Sylah knelt beside him. "The howl?"
The man's hands shook as he clutched Kael's cloak.
> "It walks in shadows. It wears your face. It burns without light…"
Then he began to convulse.
Lina moved to steady him—but too late.
The man's eyes turned completely black.
From his mouth spilled ash.
His bones cracked as his skin blistered, and something began to claw from inside his chest.
Kael drew the Fang of Varok and shouted, "Back!"
With a single slash, he decapitated the man—ending the transformation.
They watched in stunned silence as the body crumbled to black powder, the wind carrying it away like smoke.
Sylah whispered, "That… wasn't a Revenant. That was a vessel."
---
What Lies Beneath the Skin
They burned the remaining four under moonlight, performing the old rites to prevent infection.
Kael stood apart from the fire, staring at the ashes dancing in the sky.
> "They're not just returning," he said. "They're using us."
Lina stepped beside him. "How?"
"I don't know yet. But they're seeding their essence inside Moonborn bodies—turning our own kind into hosts."
Sylah walked up, carrying a scroll retrieved from one of the corpses.
"Found this," she said. "Marked in blood."
Kael took it.
Unrolled it.
A single phrase in ancient Moonborn runes:
> "He Who Burned Will Be Reborn."
Kael closed his eyes.
It was the same phrase engraved on his father's tombstone.
---
Council in Fracture
Back at Varok's Rise, word of the attack sparked panic.
The council chambers turned into chaos.
Alphas argued—some demanding Kael release control of the Flame and step down until the threat was contained.
Others, like Drayk of the Hollow Snow, stood by him.
Kael slammed his palm on the stone table.
"Scream all you want," he growled. "But if we don't act now, you'll be howling your last breath before the next moonrise."
"Then tell us what to do!" Alpha Orun snapped. "You brought peace—now keep it!"
Kael straightened.
"I need one thing," he said. "Time."
---
The Howl from the Darkside
That night, Kael meditated at the Flame Altar, alone.
He lit the ceremonial fires, breathed in the smoke, and opened his mind to the ancestors.
But instead of guidance… he heard it.
> The Howl.
Low. Deep. Like thunder crawling from the marrow of the earth.
It spoke in a tongue older than words.
And within its call… he felt his own voice answering.
Then—
He saw himself standing in a ruin, crowned in ash, flames leaking from his chest.
And behind him, a thousand Moonborn kneeled.
Dead.
Burned.
Their eyes empty.
He woke up screaming.
---
In the Revenant Crypts
Far beyond the Ashlands, in a sunken crypt beneath the frozen cliffs, the Revenant King stirred from his throne of skulls.
A hooded acolyte approached him and whispered, "The Flameborn is awakening."
The Revenant King did not open his eyes.
His voice was hollow wind.
> "Good. Let the infection deepen."
> "We need not destroy him…"
> "Only remake him."