Chronicles of Rohan: The Birth of the True Alpha

Chapter 16: The First War Council

Lucas sat in silence as the others packed up their gear. The memory of Ashmoor’s vision burned behind his eyes like an ember that wouldn’t go out. He had seen the end. Their end. But only if they made the wrong moves.

Skylar paced near the ridge. “Whatever that orb was... it gave you something. I saw the glow in your eyes.”

“I saw us fall,” Lucas said quietly.

Dan sat across from him. “That doesn’t mean we will. Visions change. Right? That’s how this stuff works?”

Kalen stood with his arms crossed. “Not if we keep hesitating.”

Lucas looked up. “Then we stop hesitating.”

He rose, brushing ash from his coat.

“We call a war council. One week from today. Every remaining pack. Every rogue willing to talk. Every hybrid. If they want a place in what comes next, they show up.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “You think they’ll listen?”

“They will,” Lucas said. “Or they’ll be left behind.”

---

The message went out that night. Through runners. Through howl echoes. Through the whisper network that stretched across the land. Lucas’s name carried weight now. So did the crest on his chest.

By the fourth day, wolves began to arrive.

They came in ones and twos at first—cautious, worn, wary. Then in packs. Groups of survivors from territories burned down by hunters or torn apart by rogues. They carried old scars and new fears.

By the sixth night, nearly sixty wolves filled the forest beyond the ridge.

Lucas stood before them as dawn broke.

“This isn’t about bloodlines anymore,” he began. “It’s not about who bit who, or who bowed to which Alpha. This is about survival. They want to end us. Use us. Turn our gifts into weapons.”

He let the silence settle.

“We don’t let them.”

A murmur ran through the crowd.

Skylar stepped up beside him. “We’ve seen what they’re building. They’re crossing lines between science and sorcery. If we don’t act now, we won’t get another chance.”

Kalen added, “And if the Ash Queen rises unchecked, none of this will matter. She will burn everything.”

Lucas turned to the crowd. “So we fight. But we don’t just charge in. We prepare. We train. We unite.”

A grizzled wolf from the back raised his voice. “And who leads this war?”

Lucas didn’t hesitate. “I will. But not as a king. As one of you.”

The old wolf nodded. “Then we stand with you.”

That night, the first war council began.

Maps were drawn. Patrols assigned. Information traded. Names were spoken that hadn’t been spoken in years.

Lucas sat with Skylar, Dylan, Dan, and Kalen at the center fire.

“We’ll need a base. Somewhere secure,” Skylar said.

Dylan nodded. “There’s an abandoned stronghold north of Ravenspire. It used to belong to the Silverfangs before they were wiped out.”

“Too close to the border,” Kalen said. “We’ll be hit before we finish building.”

Dan tapped the map. “What about Frost Hollow?”

Everyone looked at him.

“It’s a valley. Naturally fortified. Narrow pass. Easy to defend. Plus, there's hot springs. Y'know, for morale.”

Skylar gave him a look.

Dan shrugged. “Just saying.”

Lucas leaned over the map. “No one controls it?”

“Too cold,” Dylan said. “Too isolated.”

“Perfect,” Lucas said. “We take Frost Hollow. Make it ours.”

The next morning, the army moved.

Frost Hollow welcomed them with biting winds and ancient silence. Snow crunched underfoot. The valley walls stretched high, making it feel like a canyon carved by gods.

Tents were set. Perimeters marked. Wolves dug trenches, set traps, mapped exits.

Dan stared at the expanse. “Not bad for a haunted icebox.”

Skylar elbowed him. “Be useful. Stack those crates.”

As the pack trained, Lucas sparred with Dylan.

Each clash of claws and fists honed his instincts. The Alpha Apex inside him responded faster now—sharper, smarter, hungrier. He dodged with ease, struck with precision.

“You’re getting faster,” Dylan said, breathless.

Lucas backed away, panting. “I have to be.”

Skylar approached. “Incoming.”

A scout jogged up. “We found something buried under the ice. A gate.”

Lucas followed them to a frozen ridge where steel jutted from the snow. They unearthed a round metal hatch, ancient and sealed with runes.

Skylar traced the markings. “These are protection sigils. Old blood magic.”

Dan raised a brow. “Anyone else getting cursed-tomb vibes?”

Lucas placed his hand on the seal. It flared to life, reacting to his touch.

The hatch hissed and opened.

Inside—an underground chamber. Empty. Dusty.

Until the lights activated.

Skylar’s eyes widened. “This was a vault.”

Racks of weapons. Relics. Scrolls.

Dan held up a blade. “This has to be worth a fortune.”

Kalen entered last. “It’s more than treasure. This is Silverfang tech. Old war gear. Some of it... enhanced.”

Lucas picked up a clawed gauntlet. It hummed in his hand.

“We use it,” he said.

They spent two days restoring the vault, cataloging everything. It became the new heart of Frost Hollow—the war room.

That night, as Lucas stood on the cliff overlooking the valley, Skylar joined him.

“Still seeing the vision?” she asked.

“Every time I close my eyes.”

“You think it’s fate?”

“I think it’s a warning.”

She nodded. “Then we prove it wrong.”

Below, the fires of the united pack burned bright.

But beyond the ridge, shadows stirred.

In the dark forest, a figure stepped from a ruined tree—his eyes bright silver, his body marked with ancient tattoos.

He whispered into the wind.

“It begins again.”