The Chosen White Wolf: Rising From The Ashes

Chapter 23: Amulet of Fenrir

Trent's P.O.V

The air was biting cold as we made our way through the dense forest, the ancient Northern Mountains looming ahead like silent sentinels. The journey had been long, and the terrain only grew more treacherous the closer we got to the temple. Every step forward felt like a battle against nature itself, and we hadn't even encountered the real threat yet.

I glanced over at Jane, who was keeping pace beside me, her eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced caution. Chase and Brandon were further ahead, leading the group, while Jackson, John, and the rest of the warriors flanked us. We moved as silently as possible, knowing full well that rogue scouts could be anywhere in this wilderness. The amulet of Fenrir was rumored to be here, and if the rogues were guarding it, then they were guarding something powerful.

We reached the base of the mountain where the trees thinned out, revealing the path we would need to take to reach the temple. The ground was rocky, uneven, and slick with frost, but that was the least of our worries. I could feel the tension in the group, a shared understanding that we were about to step into something dangerous.

"There it is," Chase whispered, pointing toward the temple just visible through the trees. It was old—ancient, even—with stone columns that looked like they could crumble at any moment. The place had an eerie vibe like it had been forgotten by time, except for the fact that we knew it wasn't. Someone, or something, was still watching over it.

"Rogue scouts," Brandon muttered, his voice barely audible.

I followed his gaze and spotted movement along the tree line near the temple. Dark shapes, barely distinguishable from the shadows, but they were there. At least a dozen of them, maybe more, lurking and waiting for anyone foolish enough to get close.

Jane crouched down next to me, her eyes narrowing. "We need a plan. If we try to take them head-on, they'll raise the alarm before we even get near the entrance."

She was right. Charging in wasn't an option. These rogues were different from the ones we'd fought before—organized, alert, and clearly anticipating trouble. This wasn't going to be easy.

"We'll have to split up," I said quietly, my mind racing through options. "Chase and Brandon, take a small team and circle around to flank them. Jane, Jackson, John, and I will head up the middle and see if we can draw their attention. The rest of you stay back until we give the signal. We take them out quietly if we can. No mistakes."

Everyone nodded in agreement, though I could see the tension in their eyes. This was risky, but we didn't have much of a choice. The amulet was too important.

As Chase and Brandon took off with their team, I could feel my wolf stirring, anxious for the fight ahead. But I forced myself to stay calm, to focus. We needed to be smart about this, not reckless.

The four of us—Jane, Jackson, John, and I—moved forward slowly, using the trees for cover as we approached the temple. Every muscle in my body was coiled, ready for action. My senses were heightened, every sound amplified in the stillness of the forest. The closer we got, the more I could feel the weight of the place—the history, the power, and the danger that came with it.

We were only a few yards from the nearest rogue when Jane signaled for us to stop. She motioned to a fallen log up ahead, where two scouts were positioned, scanning the area. I could see their breath in the cold air, their movements precise and methodical.

"On my count," I whispered to the group. "Three...two...one."

We moved swiftly, silently. Jackson took down one rogue with a quick strike to the back of the neck, while Jane handled the other with deadly efficiency. They didn't even have time to make a sound.