The forest is silent, too silent. Even the birds have stopped chirping.

  Kael's voice cuts through the tension. "Defensive formation. Watch each other's backs. Whatever took Ross, it's still out there."

  Movement. A flicker in the corner of one mage's vision. He spins, staff raised, but there's nothing there. Just shadows shifting in the wind.

  Then a sound—a low growl, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. The mages spin, trying to locate the source, but the sound seems to echo from all directions.

  Another flicker. A dark shape moves between the trees, too fast to track, too silent to hear. It's already gone, vanished into the shadows.

  "This is not a normal wolf," Kael realizes.

  The younger mage, Ren, fumbles with his robes, pulling out a scroll. "The monster weakening scroll. Master Voren said to use it if we encounter resistance."

  "Not yet," Kael says. "We need to see the target first. We can't waste it on shadows."

  The mages can feel it—the weight of being watched, the pressure of unseen eyes.

  A dark shape emerges from the shadows—a wolf, larger than expected, its fur dark as midnight, its eyes glowing with predatory intelligence. It moves with unnatural grace, silent as death, its form seeming to phase between shadow and substance.

  "There!" Kael shouts. "Now!"

  Lena, the woman with short dark hair, unrolls the scroll, her hands moving quickly, tracing the activation runes. The scroll glows with magical energy, the weakening spell ready to activate. She aims it at the wolf, her voice rising as she chants the activation phrase.

  But the wolf is already moving. As the spell activates, as the weakening magic surges forward, the wolf sinks into shadow—one moment it's there, the next it's gone, the spell passing through empty air where it had been standing.

  The mages exchange grim looks. "It just disappeared," one of them says.

  The wolf reappears behind them, its form materializing from darkness. One of the mages spins, firing a force spell, but the wolf is already moving. Its jaws clamp onto the mage's robes, and then they both sink into the shadow realm—the mage's scream cut short as he's dragged into darkness, vanishing completely.

  The remaining mages stare in horror at the empty space where their companion had been standing moments before.

  "This is impossible," Lena says, her voice shaking. "How do we fight something we can't hit?"

  Kael's expression is set. "Wait for an opening. And when we get it, we don't miss."

  But the opening never comes. The wolf continues its dance—appearing, attacking, vanishing. Spells fly, but the wolf sinks into shadow before any can connect, the magic finding only empty air.

  ---

  Back at the Mage Tower, Seraphina stands in her private chamber, reviewing final preparations for the meeting with the artifact. Elara is with her.

  "Everything is ready, Lady Seraphina," Elara says.

  Seraphina nods, but her expression is troubled. "Elara, any news about the mages."

  Elara pauses. "Nothing, those mages have not reported to the tower yet."

  Seraphina's eyes narrow. She turns and leaves the chamber, her steps purposeful. Elara follows.

  They find Master Voren in his own chamber, reviewing documents. He looks up as Seraphina enters, his expression neutral.

  "Master Voren," Seraphina says, her voice calm but carrying an edge. "I need to speak with you."

  "Of course, Lady Seraphina," Voren says, setting aside his documents. "What is it?"

  "Some of the mages from your division are missing," Seraphina says, getting straight to the point. "Where are they?"

  Voren's expression doesn't change, but there's a slight hesitation before he responds. "Missing? I'm not sure what you mean. My division is operating normally."

  "Don't play games with me, Voren," Seraphina says, her voice sharpening. "I know something is happening. Don't take me for a fool."

  Voren's composure cracks slightly. Finally, he sighs. "Very well. I sent a team to secure the wolf pack. It's necessary for the kingdom."

  "And you didn't think to inform the council?" Seraphina asks, her voice cold.

  "I was going to discuss it with the duke first," Voren says. "Get his approval, then bring it to the council."

  Seraphina's expression hardens. "Aria reported seeing a level 30 wolf among the pack. A level 30, Voren. That was discussed in the council meeting earlier. Did you miss that part?"

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  Voren answers. "My team has monster weakening scrolls. They're prepared. They're a group, working together. They'll be fine."

  Seraphina takes a step forward, her presence commanding. "You forget one crucial detail, Voren. Five mages against more than twenty wolves. And Aria couldn't appraise many of them. It is possible they have more wolves with even higher levels. Do you understand what you've done?"

  Voren's expression shifts, uncertainty creeping in. "They're just wolves—"

  "They're not 'just wolves,'" Seraphina interrupts. "They're intelligent beings. They work together. They communicate. And you sent five apprentices—five apprentices—to capture them. You sent those apprentices to their death, Voren."

  Voren's face pales. "I... I didn't realize—"

  "You didn't realize," Seraphina says, her voice cutting. "You acted without considering the consequences. And now five of our mages are in danger because of your recklessness."

  She turns to leave, but pauses at the door. "We'll discuss this further after the meeting with the artifact. But make no mistake—if those mages don't return, you will answer for it."

  ---

  In the forest, the fight continues. The mages are exhausted, more mentally than physically. One of their number is already gone, dragged into the shadow realm, and they don't know if he's alive or dead.

  The wolf—Notail—moves like a ghost. He appears, strikes, vanishes. Spells fly, but Notail is already gone, sinking into shadow, reappearing from unexpected angles. Every moment feels like a countdown to their own disappearance.

  "He's toying with us," Lena realizes, her voice strained. "He's not even trying to kill us. He's just... wearing us down."

  Kael's expression is grim. He's been analyzing the pattern, looking for weaknesses. But the wolf is too fast, too skilled, too unpredictable.

  "We need to change tactics," Kael says. "We can't keep fighting like this. We're going to run out of magic before we even land a hit."

  Ren looks around, his eyes wide with fear. "What do we do?" he says, his voice trembling. "...We're dead."

  "Not yet," Kael says, his voice determined. "We still have the scroll. We just need one good shot."

  Notail appears again, this time closer, his form materializing from shadow. He's testing them, probing their defenses, looking for weaknesses.

  "Now!" Kael shouts.

  Lena activates the scroll, her hands moving quickly. But Notail is already moving, sinking into shadow, the spell missing again.

  But this time, Kael is ready. As Notail reappears, as his form solidifies, Kael fires a binding spell—not at where Notail is, but at where he's going to be. The timing is perfect. The spell catches Notail mid-phase, the magical chains wrapping around him, holding him in place.

  "Got him!" Kael shouts.

  Lena doesn't hesitate. She activates the weakening scroll, the magic surging forward, hitting Notail directly. The wolf struggles against the bindings, but the weakening spell takes effect, his form sagging, his strength draining.

  The mages let out a collective breath. They've done it. They've caught him.

  But then, movement. More wolves emerge from the shadows, their forms larger, more powerful. Two wolves step forward—one massive, commanding, its presence radiating authority. The other, slightly smaller but no less imposing, moves with calculated grace.

  Big Daddy and Big Momma.

  The mages stare in shock. These wolves are even bigger.

  And then, behind them, another figure emerges. A wolf, but different.

  Tara.

  The mages stare, their minds struggling to process what they're seeing. The artifact. Here. In the forest. With the wolves.

  Kael's expression hardens. "How is this possible? The artifact is with them."

  Tara moves to a patch of dirt. He raises his paw, his claws extending, and begins to write. Letters form in the dirt, scratched carefully, deliberately.

  The mages read the words, their expressions shifting from shock to fear.

  **SURRENDER OR DIE.**

  ********* Chapter end *********