Cool, quiet, and impervious to the roaring winds outside, the Silverwind Archives were carved deep into the mountain's core. The oldest histories of the pack, some of which predate the Council itself, were kept in the ancient vaults, which were only illuminated by flickering torches and the glow of moonlight shining through a tall crystalline dome.
Serafina's fingers brushed the faded leather bindings as she moved silently between the stone shelves. Roman followed closely, lantern in hand, observing her with admiration and caution.
"You're sure it's here?" She paused at a shelf bearing the old Seers' Circle's sigil and whispered.
Roman gave a nod. "One of the old scribes mentioned forbidden texts sealed under the name of the Hollow Alpha when I was recuperating here years ago. claimed that they were bound in silence and written in blood.
Serafina gave him a quick look. "After all this time, do you still remember that?"
Silently, he remarked, "I've never stopped remembering."
They discovered the scroll concealed behind a fake panel—an old cylinder of ash-darkened hide, sealed with a blade-split crescent moon emblem that none of them had ever seen.
Roman gently cracked open the seal. Inside, the parchment unfolded as if it had been waiting for this opportunity.
The script was rough, as though it had been scrawled in rage. Aloud, Serafina read:
He was forged in hatred and exile rather than under the moon or crown. The North, where silence reigned and spirits were once blindly obeyed, was where the Hollow Alpha originated. He sought power out of fear rather than right after being betrayed by blood.
"I speak for the lost," he says. However, he only hears shadows. And there will be neither peace nor pack for those who follow him.
The earth will bleed before it heals if his symbols reappear.
The silence now weighed more than the surrounding stone walls as they exchanged glances.
Thus, it's accurate," Serafina stated. He was more than a renegade. Something darker was him. spiritual, nearly cult-like.
Roman's face tensed as he touched the scroll's edge. "He gave sermons on the spirits of the wild." Castle-dwelling Alphas, he claimed, had lost their moon connection and were therefore unsuited to be leaders. He desired anarchy to compel rebirth.
Serafina inhaled deeply. "Territories are not the only issue here. He is fighting a battle of legacy and belief.
Roman gave a nod. "And his supporters will be hiding among the disenchanted if they return. the forgotten. Perhaps even in allied territories."
Rolling the scroll, Serafina tucked it under her arm. "Then, before they move again, we must expose them."
Roman studied her for a moment. "Thomas never sounded as Alpha as you do."
She gave a sorrowful smile. "Maybe that is the tragedy."
The torches flickered violently just as they turned to go. Not from inside the room, but from farther below, from the sealed catacombs no wolf had ventured into in decades, a low growl reverberated through the vault.
Roman moved slightly to get in front of her. "Down here, we're not alone."
As Serafina pulled out her blade, her eyes had a slight silver glow.
"Then let's meet his past ghosts."