Chapter 1267

Chapter 1267:

My heart clenched fiercely, and without thinking, I threw myself to the side. Several sharp whooshing noises filled the air as iron arrows struck the very spot I had just vacated. Their arrowheads shimmered with a menacing blue glow, casting eerie light around me.

I gasped for breath. “That was close…” I muttered, sweat breaking out on my forehead as I struggled to catch my breath.

As I moved forward, I kept my guard up. I carefully examined the ground and the walls with each cautious step, wary of hidden dangers.

Turning a corner, I spotted strange, ancient symbols carved into the ground.

They looked like markings of the werewolf clan, etched deep into the stone.

Makenna’s POV:

I rifled through every line I’d ever read about the sacred artifact, and the moment I spotted the symbols scorched into the ground, it clicked—a flame trap.

Without wasting a second, I yanked off my jacket and tossed it forward. The moment it hit the stone, a curtain of fire roared down from above. In the blink of an eye, my jacket was nothing but drifting ash.

“Whoo…” I exhaled slowly, my eyes fixed on the blaze, waiting for that perfect flicker, that instant when the flames would subside. Then I leapt over.

At last, I arrived at the heart of the werewolf cemetery.

A circular chamber opened before me—ancient stone and silence. In its center stood a statue of a wolf, poised and solemn, carved from obsidian.

As I crossed the threshold, the necklace my mother left me—always warm against my skin—flared with sudden, radiant light.

“Saint…” A voice, soft and reverent, echoed through the chamber. “I am the guardian of the sacred artifact… I have awaited your arrival for many years.”

Out of the shimmering light emerged a translucent figure—an elderly man with silver hair and kind, weathered eyes.

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He raised a hand and gestured toward the base of the statue, where a shallow groove was etched in stone. “Your blood will awaken the mechanism. Only then will the artifact reveal itself.”

I gave a small bow of gratitude. “Thank you, sir.”

But before I could move, the voice returned, this time heavier, more solemn. “Saint, remember this well—using the sacred artifact exacts a terrible price. Its power and your life are bound. The more you use it, the more it saps you.”

And then, he was gone.

Its power and my life were bound?

The old man’s warning repeated in my head like a haunting melody. But time was slipping away, and I had no other choice.

I drew my dagger, its edge catching the low light, and sliced clean across my palm.

Blood trickled into the groove, slithering through the carved patterns like a living thing.

The ground beneath me trembled. Stone scraped against stone as the wolf statue slowly shifted, revealing a hidden chamber beneath it—within, a crystal chest pulsing faintly with energy.

I rushed forward and heaved the lid open. A burst of white light surged outward, blinding and pure.

Instinctively, I shielded my eyes.

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