Protected: THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10 (18+ Story)

THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10

The Council of Smoke and Blood 1

The northern winds howled louder that night, but not louder than the pain still echoing through the souls of Altvall.

News of what happened to Mira and her mother had spread like wildfire, whispered between trembling lips in caves, dens, and ruins.

Each tale carried the same chill—Surganah was not just a tyrant. He was evil incarnate.

But evil had pushed too far.

And when evil stretches, resistance whispers.

Deep in the shadows of Fangroot Hollow, hidden beneath the ruins of an old temple forgotten to the world, a group of werewolves gathered in secret. These were not ordinary wolves.

These were the scattered remnants of warrior clans, mystic bloodlines, and lost alphas. They were those who had survived Surganah’s purges, escaped his dungeons, or lived in the margins waiting for the right moment.

They called themselves The Ember Pact.

At the head of the ancient stone table stood Varan, an old alpha whose right eye had been gouged out during one of Surganah’s early campaigns.

The deep scar over his blind eye burned whenever Surganah was near—a constant reminder of the pain and the price of survival.

“To stay silent now,” Varan growled, slamming his fist on the cracked table, “is to dig our own graves. We must act.”

Around him sat five others.

Karo, a young flame-blood werewolf who could channel heat and fire with a touch.

Elsenia, a shadow weaver who could disappear into darkness and walk between illusions.

Brack, a brute with the strength of ten wolves, body scarred by silver.

Yalor, an elder with earth-sense, able to bend stone and soil to his will.

And lastly, Treven, a quiet werewolf with sharp eyes, known more for his cleverness than power.

They nodded, each bearing the same look—fear sharpened into fury.

“I say we attack his dungeon,” Karo said, flame crackling at his fingertips. “Burn it down. Smoke him out like the demon he is.”

“No,” Elsenia said sharply. “We need a strategy, not a suicide.”

“I’ve tracked his movements,” Treven said slowly. “He only retreats when he seeks knowledge from his supernatural pot. That’s our window.”

They argued into the night—about spells, power, old blood magic. Finally, a plan was forged: a ritual of binding to weaken Surganah during his next retreat.

They would channel their power together, and strike in unison, weakening the pot’s visions and severing his connection to the spirit realm.

But one of them… was not truly Ember.

Treven.

Quiet. Calculating. And deeply afraid.

THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10

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