Chapter 131

Grayson’s POV

The sound of birds chirping and Rickon's heavy breathing echoed through the damp cave. This place was unlike anything I had ever encountered—dim and ancient, the walls worn smooth with time, as though countless generations had walked these very paths. The humans—or whatever they were—who had brought us here had been uncharacteristically hospitable.

Too hospitable.

"Do you think they're going to eat us?" Rickon whispered, his voice low but tinged with genuine concern.

I sighed, leaning back against the cold stone wall. "Yes, Rickon. I'm sure they offered us food and fresh clothes because they're fattening us up for a feast."

Rickon scowled, his expression dripping with irritation. "This is the worst time for you to discover the workings of sarcasm, your Highness."

Before I could retort, the sound of approaching footsteps silenced us both. The leader of this odd community appeared from the shadows, his gait steady and his presence commanding. Rickon immediately straightened, but I remained relaxed, my eyes fixed on the man as he walked towards us and sat down. He looked to be in his late fifties. He wasn't wearing his mask this time. His weathered face looked calm, and my wolf, ever attuned to danger, remained strangely still. There was nothing threatening about him, but that only unsettled me more.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Did you enjoy the meal?"

Rickon, ever tactless, wrinkled his nose. "Not really. Whatever it was you gave us could use a little more… everything."

I fought the urge to glare at him, refusing to take my eyes off the man. The leader's gaze shifted to me, his eyes sharp yet curious. "Do you share your friend's opinion?"

"He's not my friend," I said curtly.

Rickon let out an exaggerated gasp. "Now you're just hurting my feelings."

I reached into his mind, slamming a mental door shut, hoping the jolt of pain would silence him. Instead, he groaned loudly. "What the hell was that for?"

The leader cleared his throat, drawing our attention back to him. His smile didn't waver, but there was something about the way he was looking directly at me.

The silence stretched on, thick and oppressive, until I finally broke it. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice steady. "And what do you plan to do with us?"

The man inclined his head slightly. "My name is Alaric, and, as you might have guessed, I am the leader of my people here."

His smile remained, but his eyes darkened—literally. The irises shifted to an inky black, a stark contrast to his wrinkled, calm demeanor. "And," he added, "I am just like you."

Rickon scoffed. "So, what? You're like werewolf cave people?"

Alaric's gaze snapped to him, his expression unchanging. "We prefer the term 'The Old Clan.'"

His attention returned to me, and his smile grew faintly amused. "You're a long way from your kingdom, Grayson Blackwood. It is an honor to have you here."

I blinked, startled. "You know who I am?"

"Of course," Alaric replied smoothly. "Everyone knows of the Blackwoods. You, in particular, have made quite an exceptional name for yourself."

Before I could respond, he rose with a fluidity that belied his age. "Walk with me."

Rickon and I exchanged a glance before hesitantly rising and following him deeper into the cave.

The air grew cooler as we walked, the path narrowing. The walls were adorned with ancient markings—symbols and patterns I couldn't decipher, though they seemed to pulse faintly with an otherworldly glow.

Rickon's mental link brushed against mine: This is getting very creepy.

Despite myself, I replied: I know.

We continued in silence, the sound of dripping water growing louder. The dim light from luminescent stones embedded in the walls cast an ethereal glow, lighting our way through the dark, winding passage. My wolf remained calm, eerily so, as though it, too, trusted this strange man.

Eventually, we reached a waterfall cascading from above, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Alaric stopped, gesturing for us to walk through the wall of water.

Rickon and I exchanged another glance. Without a word, our eyes communicated the unspoken agreement: We attack if necessary.

Together, we stepped through the waterfall and emerged into the most breathtaking place I had ever seen.

The cave opened into a hidden valley bathed in golden sunlight. The air was crisp and pure, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and fresh grass. Small huts, built with natural materials, dotted the landscape, and people dressed similarly to Alaric moved about, their laughter and chatter creating a soothing melody. Children ran past, their joyous laughter echoing in the air, and birds with vibrant plumage flitted between the trees. Everything about this place felt untouched by the chaos of the outside world.

For a moment, I allowed myself to take it all in. I wasn't one for sentimentality, but this place felt… different. As though I had stepped into an entirely different realm, untouched by time.

A sudden screech drew my attention. I turned to see the large, bird-like creature perched on a rock, its intelligent eyes watching us. My wolf bristled slightly, recognizing it as the creature that had attacked us earlier.

Alaric followed my gaze and chuckled. "You must forgive Ortor. He doesn't take well to visitors. And we haven't had one in a very long time."

Rickon finally broke the silence. "What is this place?"

"A world without chaos," Alaric replied simply, his voice carrying a quiet reverence.

He began walking again, and we followed him. As we passed, people stopped to look at us, their expressions a mix of curiosity and awe. Then I caught Rickon making eyes at a group of women around Ava's age. They giggled, covering their faces as they returned to their tasks.

I shoved him roughly, glaring at him. "Stop it."

He grinned, unapologetic. "What? I'm allowed to help myself."

"Try harder," I snapped, my attention shifting back to Alaric as he led us deeper into this mysterious world.

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, before turning back to Alaric. "So, what exactly are you planning to show us?"

Alaric didn't break his stride, walking ahead with the steady grace of someone who had all the time in the world. His voice, when it came, was calm but tinged with a certain weight. "I want you to see what the world could have been. What it once was, before everything changed."

Rickon scoffed, his tone suddenly sharp. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Alaric slowed slightly, tilting his head as though he were speaking to a child. "The werewolf world as it exists today is full of division and bloodshed. Everyone clawing at each other for scraps of power. Alliances made only to be broken. Bonds forged in deceit. This isn't what we were meant to become."

Rickon's laugh was humorless. "So you're saying your people escaped all that by staying here? Living like cave people? That's your solution?"

Alaric stopped suddenly, turning to face us. His dark eyes flicked between Rickon and me, though the weight of his gaze settled more heavily on me. "Before the wolves ventured into the modern world, we thrived in simplicity. In unity. There was no need for endless wars or quests for dominance. We lived as one with nature, and in doing so, we were stronger than any of you can imagine."

Rickon crossed his arms, his voice dripping with skepticism. "So you think staying here makes you better than us? Because we follow our instincts? Because we crave power?"

Surprisingly, I found myself agreeing with Rickon. Though I said nothing, I caught Alaric's subtle smile, as though he had read my thoughts and found them amusing.

"Better than you?" Alaric echoed softly. He stepped closer, his presence somehow more commanding despite his calm demeanor. "No. Not better. Wiser."

Rickon opened his mouth to respond, but Alaric silenced him with a raised hand. "You think this is weakness, don't you? Choosing peace over power. But tell me, Grayson Blackwood…" His eyes met mine, piercing through every barrier I instinctively put up.

"Do you truly believe that your world—your kingdom—is as strong as you think it is?"

I frowned but said nothing.

Alaric's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it now. Only a quiet, unnerving certainty. "Let me show you what happens to a kingdom built on power… when the foundation begins to crack."

The air felt heavier, the distant laughter of children fading into silence. Unease crept into my chest. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Alaric's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned and began walking again. Over his shoulder, he said, "Follow me, and you'll see. But be prepared, Grayson. The truth has a way of unraveling even the strongest of rulers."