The ravine’s shadows cloaked the Canid camp, the caged hybrid kits whimpering as guards patrolled. Grendolf and Sylvara crouched in the wagon, Starclaw and Bloodfang ready, waiting for Kaelith’s signal. The Mutated One had vanished into the underbrush, its claw-like hand and pale skin a ghost in the night. Grendolf’s spirit-enhanced senses tingled, his vision probing Kaelith’s truth. As they waited, Kaelith returned, slipping silently aboard, its clear eyes meeting Grendolf’s.

“The guards are distracted,” Kaelith whispered. “But before we strike, you deserve to know why I’m here.”

Grendolf’s glowing eyes narrowed, Starclaw humming. “Talk. Your backstory. Your motives.”

Kaelith’s ears twitched, its elongated arm flexing nervously. “I wasn’t always like this. I was born Elara, a Cat Warrior scout in the Whispering Woods. My familia—mother, brother—were healers. We lived peacefully until the Order of the Blight raided our den five moons ago. The Shroud’s forces captured us, dragging us to the Blighted Lands.”

Sylvara’s tail flicked, skeptical. “Mutated by choice?”

Kaelith shook its head, voice laced with pain. “No. The Toxinheart’s essence was forced upon us in rituals. It twisted our forms, warping fur into skin, limbs into claws. My mother… she didn’t survive the change. Her mind broke, turning her feral. I killed her to end her suffering.” Its eyes glistened, a rare vulnerability in a Mutated One.

Grendolf’s vision flashed—images of Elara’s transformation, the Toxinheart’s green pulse searing her body. “And your brother?”

“Still with the Order, enslaved as a guard. The Shroud promises power, but it’s control. I resisted the mind-twist, keeping my will. I fled, hiding in the shadows, sabotaging where I could. When I saw you fight Kravos, saving kits like Tiro… it reminded me of what I lost. My motive is redemption—to stop the Shroud, free my brother, end the Toxinheart’s curse. For Felaria, for the familia I couldn’t save.”

Sylvara studied Kaelith, Bloodfang lowered slightly. “Why us? You could run.”

Kaelith’s claw pointed to Starclaw. “Your blade, Grendolf. Legends say it can shatter corruption. I want to be your ally, fight as Elara once did. Prove it now—let me lead the rescue.”

Grendolf’s spirit magic surged, confirming Kaelith’s sincerity. No deception in the vision. “Then lead. But betrayal means death.”

Kaelith nodded, slipping out again. Grendolf and Sylvara followed, stealthy in their hybrid forms. The camp loomed, Canids snarling. Kaelith’s signal—a low whistle—drew guards away, allowing Grendolf’s Blade Dance to free the kits silently. Tiro rushed to them, whispering thanks.

As they escaped, Kravos’s howls echoed, pursuit imminent. Kaelith fought beside them, its claw slashing a Canid’s throat. “For my familia,” it growled.

The group fled toward the Abyss, Kaelith now part of their fold. Elara’s tragic past and motive for vengeance strengthened their resolve. The Shroud’s shadow grew, but with this unlikely ally, hope flickered brighter against the war’s darkness.