Page 119 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Vale raised her rifle. “Tell me that thing is still chained.”

Theron did not answer because he was no longer certain.

Black mineral crawled across the platform beneath the throne in thin, branching lines that looked disturbingly alive beneath the red light.

Then something stepped onto the bridge opposite them.

The creature emerging from the darkness appeared far more intact than the corrupted wolves below. Tall and broad-shouldered, it wore ancient black armor fused into the flesh beneath it. Its eyes settled on Theron, and recognition passed across its ruined face. It held neither hunger nor madness.

It held memory.

“My prince,” the creature said.

The words struck harder than the King’s voice ever had.

A rain-soaked training yard rose before Theron. Wooden practice blades cracked together until his arms went numb while the same wolf circled him through the mud.

What hurt most was remembering the approval and pride the older wolf had never bothered to hide.

The memory surged through the bond, drawing Matt nearer. “Theron?”

The creature’s ruined expression shifted with something almost like relief. “You remember me.”

Theron’s throat tightened because he did. The wolf before him had died before the mountain was sealed. Theron had watched it happen.

The King had not merely preserved the dead. He had kept them.

The creature advanced another step. “He has waited so long for you to come home.”

“I am not his.”

Something almost sorrowful crossed the creature’s face. “You carry his blood. You were always his.”

The King’s voice entered Theron’s thoughts.

And if he falls, you will belong to no one at all.

The words struck deeper than Theron wanted because, for the first time in centuries, surviving beyond the mountain no longer felt impossible. It felt dangerous.

Matt moved fully beside him until their shoulders touched. The bond surged between them, immediate and stabilizing. The creature noticed. Its attention shifted toward Matt, and understanding slowly formed across its ruined face.

Then the chamber shook, not with rage but with resistance. For the first time since entering the throne chamber, Theron felt something strain against the King’s control.

Vale broke the silence. “We are done standing here admiring the apocalypse. Status on the stabilizers.”

Baptiste checked the worn detonator clipped to his vest. Several indicators still glowed amber beneath dust and cracked plastic.

“The upper charges are in place. So are the secondary collapse points beneath the crypt levels.” His expression darkened as he regarded the throne platform. “We still need the final placement.”

Matt's expression hardened. “Final placement where exactly?”

Theron answered first. “The heart seal.”

Silence followed.

Matt looked toward the throne. “Did you just casually use the phrase heart seal like that isn’t horrifying?”

“The throne sits directly above it,” Theron said. “The stabilizers cannot destroy the mountain unless the seal beneath the platform collapses first.”