Chapter 106 The Wolf Of Silence

• It began with a low hum. Not in the ears — in the chest. In the soul. The kind of hum that remembers pain. Every hearth in Moonclaw flickered at once. Not out of fear. Out of recognition. Because something was coming. And it knew all the things they had buried.
• They named it now. The wolf made of silence. The voice shaped from fire that had no name, no story, only scars. The Scourgefire had become a being.
• Its form first emerged in the far western ruins of Cragholdt — once a burial ground for rogue alphas, now abandoned. But the stones were warm. The flame altars, long dormant, lit themselves again — not in honor, but in accusation.