Chapter 407 The first words

Chapter 407: Chapter 407 The first words

Talia’s POV

I stood at the border of the Ashen Lands, and I did not move.

I had said I was ready, and I meant it. But readiness did not make the waiting any easier.

I had imagined this moment a hundred times. I had prepared for it, trained for it, and dreamed about it. But standing here, at the edge of the dead lands, with the enemy ahead and my army behind, I felt smaller than I had ever felt in my life.

Kaelen’s hand was in mine, and the allied army was behind me, silent. No one moved, and no one spoke because the only sound was the wind and the distant crackle of something burning in the dead land.

The smell hit me first. It was ash and rot and something older, something that made my stomach clench. I swallowed hard, and I forced myself not to gag.

I looked out at Malachai’s army. Thousands of corrupted wolves with eyes as black as pitch and souls that were gone. They did not move, they did not breathe, they just waited.

I felt the weight of their emptiness pressing against my chest, but I did not look away.

My magic felt thin. It felt like a thread being pulled from a tapestry, slow and steady, and I could not stop it. The Ashen Lands were eating at me, and I knew that if I stayed here too long, I would have nothing left. I did not let it show on my face.

I could feel the fear behind me. It was thick, heavy, and it pressed against my back.

I wanted to turn around. I wanted to tell them it would be okay. But I could not. Or at least not yet.

Behind me, I heard the first whispers, and I turned halfway to see them..

"What is wrong with their eyes?" a young wolf asked.

"Why are they not moving?" another whispered.

"Are they even alive?" a third voice said.

The whispers grew louder, and I heard a young wolf’s voice cracking as he spoke to his friend. I saw a Stoneclaw warrior take a step back, then stop himself. And I heard a Silver Ridge wolf mutter a prayer under his breath.

I could smell their fear. It was sharp and bitter, and it clung to the air around them. I could hear it in the way they breathed, quick and shallow. I could see it in the way they stood, ready to run.

A young wolf gripped his weapon so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.

"What if we lose?" he whispered to the wolf beside him.

"Then we die," the other replied. "But we die fighting."

An old warrior closed his eyes and whispered something to himself. I could not hear the words, but I saw his lips move.

A healer checked her supplies one last time, her hands trembling as she counted bandages.

"I do not have enough," she muttered. "I do not have enough for all of them."

I turned back to look at malachai’s army in front of us, but I could not keep my eyes on the enemy and ignore my own army, so I turned around again.

I faced them: Thousands of wolves. Warriors, healers, young and old. Their faces were pale, and their eyes were wide. They were scared, and I could not blame them.

I raised my hand, and the whispers died.

"I know what you are feeling," I said. "I feel it too. I see them, and I feel the cold in my bones. I see their eyes, and I feel the fear in my heart."

I paused, and I looked at them. I looked at every single one of them.

"But I also know something else," I continued. "I know that we are not them. We are not empty because we have souls, we have hearts, and we have each other."

A few of them straightened their backs. A few of them lifted their chins, and a few of them stopped shaking.

A Stoneclaw warrior straightened his shoulders.

"We have everything," he said to the wolf beside him. "They have nothing."

The wolf beside him nodded.

I saw the change in their faces. It was small, barely noticeable. But it was there.

I paused, and let the silence stretch. Then I spoke again.

"They have nothing to fight for," I said. "They have no families, no packs, and no hope. But we do. We have everything. That is why we will win."

The fear was still in their eyes, and it was still in the way they held their weapons. But their shoulders were straighter now, and their chins were higher. And when they looked at me, they did not look away.

Then I heard it.

It was not a sound I could name. It was a shift, like a change in the air.

I felt it before I saw it. Like a cold that had nothing to do with the wind, and a presence that pressed against my skin.

I turned around and saw the corrupted wolves parting. They did not step aside like normal wolves. They moved like water, silent and slow, and they did not take their eyes off us.

Then I saw him: Malachai

He was tall, taller than any wolf I had ever seen. His skin was pale, almost white. His eyes were black, empty, and bottomless. And his smile was cruel.