Page 75 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Theron’s jaw tightened. “Power changes people.”

The words felt heavier than he intended.

Matt looked toward him briefly at that, and Theron suddenly became aware of how much personal truth had slipped into the answer.

“The First King became obsessed with permanence,” he continued. “Control. Unity. He believed corruption existed because people remained divided from one another.” His gaze lowered toward the ancient carvings beneath the floodlights. “Eventually he began forcing bonds.”

Several wolves swore quietly beneath their breath.

Matt’s expression hardened. “That sounds less like unity and more like psychological warfare.”

“It became worse than that.”

The corridor fell silent again, broken only by the sound of boots against stone and water moving somewhere beyond the walls.

Theron forced himself to continue. “The bonds stopped being connection. They became control. Entire bloodlines lost autonomy beneath him.” His voice lowered further. “When resistance began, he answered with corruption.”

Matt stared at him. “He created the hungry ones.”

“Yes.”

The word echoed softly through the corridor. For several seconds nobody spoke after that.

Suddenly the prison no longer felt like ancient history. It felt personal.

A tragedy created by someone who once believed he was saving the world.

Matt exhaled beside him. “You guarded all of this alone.”

Theron looked away toward the darkness ahead. “Not alone.”

Theron’s voice quieted further. “Not at first.”

The answer settled painfully between them. Before Matt could respond, Vale raised one hand sharply from the front of the formation.

Everyone stopped abruptly. The corridor ahead widened into darkness beyond the reach of the floodlights, but something moved there.

Slow and deliberately.

Theron felt the corruption react before he fully saw it. The hungry one stepped partially into the light. Then another appeared beside it.

And another.

Dozens of pale figures lined the corridor ahead motionless beneath the fractured arches, their ruined bodies illuminated faintly by the flashlights while empty silver eyes reflected back through the darkness.

None of them attacked.

They only watched.

Matt’s hand moved toward his weapon beside him. “Theron.”

He already knew. The First King had called them.

***

Nobody moved.

The hungry ones remained scattered beneath the fractured arches ahead, their pale bodies half-hidden inside the darkness beyond the floodlights. Some crouched along the walls and ceiling with limbs bent at impossible angles while others stood motionless in the center of the corridor watching the survivors with empty silver eyes.