Disclaimer: Anything recognisable from the Harry Potter books and films belongs to JK Rowling and her associates. No money is being made from this fanfiction.
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One another world, a rebellion is spurred on by the mysterious Wolf Pack. Victory however, comes at a price and the very people who won the war have no place in the new world order. Given the chance to return to the world from whence they cam, they accept and arrive in a new world, taking the first baby steps into a new war against an old enemy. H/R/Hr/G/L/N. G/R brother/sister relationship…ish.
The Wolf Pack
Prologue
They came from everywhere, spilling out into the once empty streets, yelling and screaming; waving any weapon they could find again the race that had held them captive since time immemorial. The streets ran with blood, both red and black and everywhere, everywhere were the cries and the shouts. Steam poured from the huge fire pits that once lined the Black Road that led to the castle, as barrel after barrel of water was emptied into them.
And still the people of Calipe were not happy, not content. In the early dawn, when not a single demon was left inside the walls and the castle still burned in the chill morning air, the people gathered and they spoke. Then they once again gathered up their weapons and this time, led by the Rebellion, they left the city of Calipe and began the journey up the Merchant's Highway to the next city, Agera, and there with the aid of the better armed and better organised resistance fighters, they once again joined battle again their hatred masters. As Calipe's had before it, now Agera's streets ran with blood and that blood mingled in pools under the twin moons of Aeder.
The battle raged on, past nightfall and as the power and strength of their once-masters increased as the sun fell, the strength and the heart of the combined Calipe and Agera armies began to fall. It was then, possibly the most startling thing happened of all. A group of townsmen had been forced into an alley with no way out. They had resigned themselves to death, when out of the shadows surrounding the demon, a figure appeared. Petite, and armed with more weaponry then either of the men had seen in many a year, the figure placed themselves between the townsmen and the demon. The battle between them was short and rather one sided. As the figure stepped over the carcass of the fallen demon, she turned once, revealing herself to be a young woman of around twenty-five years. She smiled and raised a gloved hand to put one finger to her lips. The eyes of the townsmen followed the suddenly revealed glove to where it ended at the woman's elbow, as the eyes of young men are wont to do. As their eyes followed the line of revealed flesh, they caught on the brand… and widened. Eyes flashed up to take in the face of their rescuer, but she was already turning away in a swirl of black leather, shadows and red hair.
It was as dawn broke on another freed city that the whispers began. They were here. People had seen them fighting, coming out of the shadows to kill, only to retreat back once their victim was dead. The Wolf Pack. The rebels encouraged the people once again and they left and started the long march towards Esetor, with far lighter steps then before and the news spread before them.
The humans were rising up!
City after city fell to the growing rebel army as they pushed the demons back towards Dracma, the capital. And the new spread faster and faster. Ugara, Tempran, Kilith, they all fell to the rebels and always the whispers, the Unforgiven, the Accursed, the Wolf Park, names spoken only at the height of noon and only in open fields where there were no shadows fell from lips like a prayer;
Naz, the Rising Storm,
Nua, the Raging Inferno,
Dar, the Shadow Lord,
Jen, the Ghost Dancer,
Mia, the Bloody Blade,
Ray, the Dark Destroyer.
At each battle, people claimed to have seen them, but always afterwards, they weren't there. Forever driven to the shadows, the legends surrounding them grew with each retelling, and always the army moved. Spurred on by the knowledge that the Wolf Pack were with them, driven by the knowledge that they were winning, the human army marched on.
They had travel for over a month to reach Dracma and now standing outside the gates, they wondered if they dared enter. The Iron Gates were shut, locked closed, defiant, or laughing, they didn't know which. Their leaders, Michela, Aroth and Gresh tried to stir them to move against the gates, but the nameless fear haunted them. The fear of morning light revealing missing children. The fear of monsters in the dark. The army would not march on the closed gates.
Suddenly, with the harsh cry of un-oiled hinges, the gates began to swing open. The army readied their weapon as they watched a black clocked figure jump off of the top of the wall. And then they poured into city and the streets ran with blood.
At last they stood before the Black Castle, where dwelt the monster that had ruled them for far too long. They were standing at the bottom of the steps, when, from within their ranks, six figures moved to the front. Michela stood before them as they pushed their clocks back to reveal the brand on their shoulders. One of the spoke to him for a moment and then their leader turned and stepped back. The Wolf Pack walked up the steps and into the Castle.
What happened in there no one knows for the Wolf Park never spoke of it again. When they returned, walking out of burning castle, covered in red and black blood, they seemed tired. One was being helped to walk by another. One of them stepped forward and spoke again to Michela, and then they turned and walked away, back into the shadows, where they belonged and Michela turned to the crowd and announced that the Black King was dead and the crowd cheers and in the first true feeling of freedom, the disappearance of the Wolf Pack was forgotten.
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