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Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Dockside Vigil

Zephyr's boots crunched against the gravel path leading to Dock 12. The salt-tang of the harbor hung heavy in the air, mingling with the brackish scent of oil and rust. He paused at the chain-link fence, its metal links cold beneath his fingertips, and peered through a gap at the rows of stacked containers beyond.

In the dim glow of a single floodlight, the docks were eerily silent—no shipping crews, no rumble of forklifts. Only the distant pulse of neon from the city skyline, sliced by the dark silhouette of the Luna Spire. Zephyr swallowed hard. His phone vibrated again in his pocket, Corin's name flashing insistently.

"I'm here. Hurry."

He exhaled and slipped under the fence, heart pounding. Concrete underfoot gave way to worn steel grating, slick with moisture from last night's drizzle. From somewhere beyond, a lone seagull cried. Zephyr's breath caught in his throat. He glanced around, every sense alert: the hum of distant traffic, the drip of water off corrugated metal, the far-off clang of a loose pipe swinging in the wind.

Footsteps—soft, measured—echoed somewhere to his left. Zephyr froze, chest tightening. He pressed himself against a cold container wall, pressing a hand over his heartbeat until it steadied.

Just Corin, he reminded himself. Calm down.

He nudged the fence aside and crept forward, scanning the gaps between containers. A faint glow—Corin's flashlight—flickered at the far end of the yard. Relief washed through Zephyr as he broke into a careful jog, shadows stretching long and thin as he passed.

"Corin?" he called, voice low.

No answer. Only that steady glow, bobbing near an overturned crate. Zephyr approached, crouching behind another stack for cover. His brother leaned over something metallic on the ground—a small black cylinder, half-buried in gravel. Corin's shoulders shook as he whispered into a handheld recorder.

"…and the node's pulse has doubled since the eclipse. We're looking at—"

Zephyr exhaled. That explained Corin's urgency: Sanguis Node activity. He edged closer.

"Corin," Zephyr said softly. "What's this?"

Corin spun around, eyes wide with exhaustion and relief. His cheek was bruised, sleeve damp with dried blood. "Zeph… you made it." He scooted backward, flagging for silence. "Just be careful—something's off."

Zephyr risked a glance around. The floodlight's beam cut a narrow cone of illumination; every other corner lay in shadow. He crouched beside his brother. "What are you working on?"

Corin tapped the cylinder. It hummed faintly. "This—this is the prototype core from Luna Spire. I extracted it last night." His voice trembled. "It's a fragment of the old Codex—blood-runic energy."

Zephyr swallowed. "You… stole it?"

Corin's jaw clenched. "If the Covenant or the Pack get their hands on it, they'll weaponize it. They already know I was here. They're tracking the pulse."

A distant metallic scrape made Zephyr flinch. He peered down the dock: nothing but swaying cranes and empty water. But his skin prickled.

Something's coming.

He rose, gently taking the cylinder. It felt warm, almost alive. Power hummed through his gloved palm in tiny pulses. His pulse quickened.

"Let's go," he said, voice steadier than he felt. "We need to get this somewhere safe."

Corin nodded, rising with surprising speed. He slipped the recorder into Zephyr's pocket and gestured toward the fence. Zephyr tucked the cylinder inside his own jacket. Together, they retraced their path toward the gap in the fence.

Halfway there, Corin halted and placed a trembling hand on Zephyr's shoulder. "Wait. Do you feel that?"

Zephyr froze. The air around them quivered, as if the night itself had inhaled. Beneath his ribs, a flutter—not his heartbeat, but something else: a soft, mechanical ping deep in his mind.

Ping.

Hemaleth calibration required.

Zephyr's throat went dry. He pressed a hand against his chest. Nothing more than a faint dizziness—he shook his head and met Corin's gaze.

"I—didn't feel anything," he said, voice tight.

Corin's eyes shone with concern. "Zeph, the core's activation shifts something in the node. It… resonates with the host's blood. Be ready for—"

A sudden crash rang out as the fence overturned beside them. Zephyr spun to see a hulking shape forcing its way through the wire—thick fur rippling, steel claw catching the floodlight's glare. A massive wolf-scout drifted into view, snarling, eyes narrowed.

"Go!" Corin shouted.

Zephyr didn't need a second prompt. He grabbed Corin's hand and bolted toward the shadows, the cylinder heavy against his side. The scout lunged, jaws snapping, and Zephyr felt the world slow—his senses sharpening, a crackle of adrenaline like electricity under his skin.

He hit the gravel and rolled, pain flaring as shoulder and hip scraped rock. He righted himself, heart hammering, as Corin struggled to his feet behind him. The wolf-scout advanced, low growl vibrating its broad chest.

Zephyr's vision narrowed on the beast. He flexed his fingers, the empty sickle-chain at his belt suddenly feeling insufficient. The scout bared teeth, muscles coiling for another strike.

His mind raced. He needed distance. He scrambled back, sliding across loose stones, and yanked the cylinder from his jacket. He held it out like a talisman; the faint hum grew louder as the beast turned its snout toward it.

Corin scrambled beside him. "Zeph, drop it and run!"

Zephyr hesitated—releasing the core felt impossible. The hum pulsed through his palm, and for a moment, he felt… stronger. Deeper in his veins, something stirred, urging him to fight.

He glanced at Corin: desperation, fear, pleading. Then at the scout, jaws flexing.

He made his choice.

He shuttered his breath and twisted toward the floodlight's switch panel on the container wall. If he could plunge the yard into darkness, maybe he could slip away. He dashed forward, elbows high, and yanked the metal cover off the panel. Sparking wires hissed.

The wolf-scout snarled and lunged. Zephyr slammed his hand onto the switch—nothing happened. Sparks arced. He yanked again, and the floodlight flickered, then cut out, plunging the dock into near-pitch black.

A breathless moment passed. Then the scout's low howl sliced through the darkness. Zephyr seized Corin's arm. "Now!"

They sprinted for the fence gap, dropping to all fours to scramble under. Gravel bit into Zephyr's palms, but he dared not stop. Behind them, the scout roared, thrashing at the fence.

They burst into the alley beyond just as the wolf's massive muzzle tore through the chain-link, jaws snapping inches from Zephyr's shoulder. He scrambled upright, chest heaving, and Corin flung a hand over his mouth.

"Keep moving," Corin hissed.

Zephyr darted into the maze of backstreets, Corin close behind. Atmosphere crackled around him—his ears rang, and the streetlights above flickered. He stumbled over a drain cover and nearly fell, but Corin helped him up and guided him to a narrow stairwell.

They climbed two flights to a deserted storage loft, battered door swinging shut behind them. Zephyr leaned against the wood paneling, sweat and gravel dusting his skin. He pressed the cylinder against the wall.

Ping.

Moonblood Gauge at 10%.

His vision blurred, and he slid down to sit, legs drawn to his chest. Corin crouched beside him, panting. "You okay?"

Zephyr closed his eyes. Pain and fear warred with something else: a fierce, feral energy humming in his blood. He flexed his fingers around the cylinder and felt power surge through his arm, pulsing along his veins like wildfire.

"I… I felt it," he said, voice rough. "Like electricity."

Corin wiped sweat from his forehead. "The core—its energy is awakening something in you. The old legends called it a blood-wolf. You… you're the first hybrid." He shook his head. "I never wanted this for you."

Zephyr swallowed. "Why me?"

Corin's eyes flickered to the cylinder. "Because you carry the lineage—the blood rune your mother hid in your veins. The node chose you."

Zephyr closed his fists. "Then what now?"

Corin swallowed. "We get you somewhere safe. I know someone—The Gray Court—they can help stabilize the core's energy in your blood. But we need to move before the scout brings reinforcements."

Zephyr nodded, rising unsteadily. He pocketed the cylinder. Every step felt heavy, like iron bands around his legs. But beneath the weight, that humming power surged—thrumming promise and threat in equal measure.

He and Corin crept to the loft's door and peered out. The alley was empty. Moonlight slanted between buildings, painting the concrete floor silver.

Zephyr took a steadying breath. "Lead the way."

And so they slipped into the night—brother and newfound blood-wolf, hunted and hunted, bound by fate and the echoing promise of a power that would change their world forever.

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