Page 23 of Alpha's Heir

I scrambled backward, trying to find some leverage, some weapon. My hands closed around a stick—a pathetic excuse for a weapon, but it was all I had. I wasn't going down without a fight. "Come on then, you feathered fuck," I spat out, defiance my shield against overwhelming odds.

But it never came to that.

The ground shook, a tremor that sent shockwaves through the clearing. Trees bent as if bowing to an almighty force, and then it was there—massive, majestic, terrifying. The guardian of the forest.

It was the shrine come to life, a towering wolf-man with antlers that scraped the sky. Muscles rolled beneath its fur, every inch of it thrumming with power. It leapt between me and the beast, a protector sprung from legend itself.

The air crackled with its energy, and the beast hesitated. This was a creature that knew no fear, but in the presence of the guardian, uncertainty flickered in its eyes. It was enough.

The guardian moved like something out of a dream, fluid and lethal. It roared, a sound that didn't just fill the clearing but seemed to resonate through the very essence of the woods. The beast reeled, staggering back, and the guardian struck.

Claws met flesh, a dance of ancient enmity playing out before me. The beast fought back, a fury of claws and teeth, but it was no match. The guardian was relentless, a force of nature, each blow deliberate and earth-shaking.

I couldn't tear my eyes away, even as fear and awe battled within me. The guardian was like nothing I had ever seen—every part of it spoke of an age-old power, of a time when creatures like it walked the earth as equals.

The fight was brutal, a symphony of growls and the clash of bodies. The guardian was an immovable object, an unstoppable force, and under its assault, the beast's resistance crumbled. With a final, desperate screech, it turned to flee, disappearing into the trees from which it had come.

Silence descended, heavy and absolute, broken only by the ragged sound of my breathing.

Then the guardian turned to me, its gaze piercing. Those eyes were ancient, filled with the wisdom of centuries. I lay there, sprawled in the dirt, completely exposed and vulnerable under the weight of that stare.

For a long moment, we just looked at each other. The guardian's chest heaved, and I could see the rise and fall, a rhythm that spoke of life unfathomable. I waited for a growl, a sign, something to tell me what would come next.

But it just watched me, its expression unreadable. And in that gaze, I felt a question, a silent probe that sought the depth of my spirit.

Heat radiated from my skin, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Pain throbbed through me, my muscles aching as if I’d been through a war. Yet amid the torment, a peculiar serenity wrapped around my senses. My eyes locked with the guardian's, and it was as if electric currents coursed through the air, connecting us.

There was no mistaking it—a tie as tangible as the ground beneath me. My heart recognized it before my mind could make sense of it, a resonance that hummed deep within my bones. It felt ancient, like a thread woven into the fabric of my being, pulling taut as our gazes held.

His eyes, a deep, fathomless black, seemed to reach into the very core of me. A silent conversation passed between us, a question and answer session without a single word uttered. I knew he felt it too, this inexplicable bond, his nostrils flaring slightly, his head tilting as if contemplating the mystery of our connection.

"Who are you?" His voice wasn't just a sound; it was the whisper of leaves, the growl of thunder, the softness of moonlight wrapped into one.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather the scattered thoughts that danced like leaves in a storm. "Cora," I managed, my voice hoarse. "I... I came looking for help."

His snort was a soft puff of air, the skepticism clear. "Help? From me?" He seemed to find the idea ludicrous, or perhaps it was disbelief that anything in this tainted world might seek out a relic like him.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the pull of the pain, the way my head swam with the effort. “We… my pack… we need help. The forest, it’s dying, can’t you feel that? It’s not just the trees, the animals—it’s the magic. It's tainted.”

The guardian faced me now, a statue of living myth. “I feel it,” his voice rumbled like the earth itself speaking.

My chest heaved with a shaky breath. “The Unseen Pack, they’ve—”

“You speak of the invaders, the ones who walk without honor, without balance,” he interrupted, his tone neutral, yet it carried the weight of a verdict.

“Yes, they’re destroying everything. The forest’s magic has been corrupted, and you, you’re its guardian. You have to help us.”

He was a monolith of fur and muscle, and when he finally spoke, his words fell like stones in the quiet of the clearing. “The magic is not mine to command.”

My hands clenched into fists. “But you just fought that thing, that abomination. You’re part of this place, how can you not—”

“Can’t or won’t?” I interjected, my voice catching, breaking on the last word. Tears blurred my vision, hot and furious, a stark contrast to the cool indifference of the guardian’s gaze.

He turned his back to me, a finality in the motion that sent a cold dread through me. “Does it matter?” His voice was quieter now, almost lost to the sounds of the forest at night. “The result is the same.”

I was on my feet now, hands reaching out after him, but I might as well have been a thousand miles away for all the good it did. “It matters to me! To us. You’re our last hope.”

He paused, a slight tilt of his head the only acknowledgment. “Hope,” he murmured, as if tasting the word, testing its truth. Then he continued his departure, melting into the shadows that seemed to swallow him whole, leaving me alone with the echoes of my own despair.

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