The Tsumiki didn't skulk in shadows.
They _owned_ them.
Beneath the crumbling ruins of the Lost City of half Zelda— where the earth remembered ancient wars and the stones still whispered curses — lay a hidden chamber. Not carved. Not built. _Born_ from the collapse of forgotten temples, its entrance guarded by twin statues of wolves with human eyes — frozen mid‑howl, mouths open wide enough to swallow a man whole.
Inside was darkness. Not empty darkness. *Living* darkness.
A mist that clung to skin, that whispered promises of power, that crawled into lungs and made hearts beat slower — more deliberate — like drums before a war cry.
At the center was a throne. Not gold Not iron. But *Bone.*
White, polished, fused with sinew and shadow — shaped like a crescent moon, curving upward like a predator waiting to pounce.
And upon it sat *the Shadow Pack Lord.*
Not a beast. Not a man. A memory of both.
His face was half‑human — sharp cheekbones, piercing amber eyes, lips curled in a permanent smirk — and half‑wolf — fur rippling across his jaw, ears pointed, nose elongated into a snout that could snap a neck with one bite.
His body shifted — sometimes tall, sometimes crouched — as if gravity itself couldn't decide whether to hold him upright or let him run on all fours.
Around him was his *Pack. Not loyal followers.
They are extensions of his will.
And also the Tsumiki warriors, some half‑human, some fully beast. eyes glowing with the same unnatural light, claws clicking against stone, tails swishing like knives.
They didn't speak.
They growled in unison a low, vibrating hum that made the air tremble.
But the Shadow Pack Lord — he spoke.
Softly.
Like a lover whispering secrets into your ear while you sleep.
"The wizards are searching," he said — voice like wind through dead trees, like the rustle of dry leaves in a graveyard. "They think they can find her first. They think they can stop what's coming."
He tilted his head — slow, deliberate — and smiled — revealing teeth filed into points.
"Let them look. Let them dig. Let them bleed. The Seventh key will come to us — not because we force her — but because she'll choose us. Because she'll remember. Because her blood remembers."
> Behind him — a massive stone slab rose from the floor — etched with runes that pulsed with dark energy.
*The Binding Stone.*
A prison.
A gateway. a key.
Forged by the first Tsumiki — before the curse — before the war — to hold something ancient. Something terrible. Something that slept beneath Zelda — dreaming of destruction.
"They call it _The Devourer,"The beast that eats worlds. The hunger that never sleeps. The god that was never born but made.
He ran a clawed finger along the rune and it flared to life casting crimson light across the chamber.
"When the moons align when the blood remembers, when the Seventh key stands before the Stone — it will awaken. And Zelda will burn from war from _within.
He turned, eyes locking onto one of his warriors, a half‑wolf with scarred fur, missing an ear, holding a small, trembling figure.
A child. maybe six years old. Human but with eyes that glowed faintly gold.
> "This one," the warrior growled. She was"Found in the Western Hills. Her Mother is dead and Father fled. She Shows our signs. She Can shift and Can hear the whispers."
The Shadow Pack Lord smiled — slow, cruel.
"Bring her forward."The child was pushed, stumbling , onto the stone floor.
She didn't cry.
Just stared, wide-eyed at the throne. and the lord.
the darkness was behind him.
"You're afraid," he said — voice gentle now — almost tender. "But you don't have to be. We're not monsters. We're family. Your father was one of us. Your mother hid you. Lied to you. Tried to erase what you are."
He leaned forward — close enough that she could smell the musk of his breath.
"But you remember, don't you? The nights you woke up — howling at the moon. The way your skin tingled when the rain fell. The voices in your dreams calling you home."
The child nodded slow — trembling.
"Good," he whispered. "Then you'll understand. When the time comes, you'll join us. Not as a prisoner. Not as a slave. As a leader."
He stood towering , casting a shadow over her.
"The Wizards think they can stop us. But they forget , we were here first. We were always here. And when the Seventh key walks into this chamber, not to fight, but to remember. she'll kneel. To us."
He raised a hand and the Binding Stone pulsed brighter and faster like a heartbeat.
"And on that night — when the moons bleed red — we'll break the seal. We'll wake the Devourer. And Zelda will fall to swords and memory."
Behind him the Pack howled — not in triumph. But In *anticipation.*
Because they knew — the war wasn't coming.
It had already begun.
And the Wizards? They were already too late.