The spiral was never meant to be defended with swords.
It was written in steps.
In breath.
In listening.
But some didn't understand that.
Some believed what they couldn't control could still be corrupted.
---
The rogue pack returned
But not with weapons.
With words.
Their new leader, a silver-haired wolf with a voice like broken glass, stepped into the outer ring one night as mist rose thick around the valley.
He didn't shout.
He didn't threaten.
He whispered.
Old songs.
Twisted histories.
Lies wrapped in broken truths.
And slowly, the spiral lines began to shift—subtle at first.
A distortion at the edges.
A rewriting of memory.
---
The threat
They weren't trying to destroy the archive.
They were trying to infect it.
Reshape it.
Change the memory so that future wolves would believe:
... Flame ruled the tide.
... Root bowed to fire.
... Balance was never real.
---
Liora sensed it first.
Sitting with Kaelen at the ridge, she jolted upright.
