The room was a circular space with walls of polished dark stone that seemed to absorb light. In the center, an obsidian pedestal supported a crystal sphere the size of a human head. Around the pedestal, six elevated platforms, arranged in a hexagon, awaited their occupants.
It was here that the leaders of the Arcane Hunters from the central continent gathered, projecting their astral images through the crystal sphere to create three-dimensional holograms nearly indistinguishable from reality. Only a slight flicker and the lack of solid shadows betrayed their illusory nature.
The man who had kidnapped Logan, now revealed as Kael, stood before the sphere, conversing with the six figures hovering above the platforms. Their life-sized holograms regarded him with varied expressions, but all held an air of expectation and impatience.
"The preparations are ready," said Kael, his hoarse voice echoing through the room. "We can begin the extraction ritual now."
"Very well, Kael," said one of the figures, a tall, thin woman with braided black hair and eyes as sharp as an eagle's. Her image flickered slightly, revealing a black leather dress adorned with crow feathers. "Don't waste time. The King and Queen of Sky Reaper are powerful. It's only a matter of time before they discover our trail."
"And it won't take long for them to find this location," added a burly man with a messy red beard and an eyepatch covering his left eye. His image projected the illusion of a war axe slung across his back. "Speed up the process. We don't want a direct confrontation with them, not yet."
Kael nodded, a cold smile spreading across his lips. "Don't worry. Everything is under control."
With an abrupt gesture, he ended the connection with the other figures. The holograms flickered and vanished, leaving the room in oppressive silence. Kael turned and walked towards the exit, his firm, decisive steps echoing off the stone walls. He proceeded down a narrow, damp corridor, lit only by flickering torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The air was cold and heavy with the smell of mold and damp earth.
At the end of the corridor, he reached a reinforced iron door. Two hooded men, lower-ranking members of the Arcane Hunters, stood guard, their postures rigid and watchful.
"Bring the boy," Kael ordered, his voice flat. The guards nodded and disappeared through a side door, returning moments later with Logan, whose wrists were bound in front of him.
Logan and Blake were talking in low voices, trying to devise an escape plan, when the cell door creaked open ominously. Two hooded men entered, their faces hidden by the shadows of their hoods.
"You, come with us," one of them said, grabbing Logan by the arm and pulling him out of the cell.
"Hey! What are you going to do with him?" protested Blake, trying to get up but hampered by the chains binding him.
"None of your business, brat," the other guard replied with a cruel smile. "Just pray your little friend cooperates. Otherwise… well, let's just say things could get very unpleasant for him."
Logan tried to pull away, but the guard holding him was too strong. "Let me go!" he yelled, struggling.
"Logan!" shouted Blake, desperate, stretching as far as the chains allowed, trying to reach his friend. "Don't worry, I'll get us out of here!"
"It'll be okay, Blake," Logan said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I'll figure something out."
The guards dragged Logan out of the cell, ignoring his protests. Blake continued to shout and struggle, pulling at the chains with all his might, but it was useless. He was trapped, powerless, forced to watch as his best friend was taken to an uncertain fate.
Frustration and fear consumed him, and tears of anger and helplessness streamed down his face. All he could do was scream Logan's name, hoping that somehow his friend could hear and know he wasn't alone.
***
One of Gália's rats, a small rodent with black fur and glowing red eyes, crept through the corridors of a seemingly abandoned mansion, located on a small floating island north of the city. The Queen, through
"Strange," Gália murmured, concentrating. "A mansion like this, so well located, and completely empty? Something is wrong here."
She guided the rat down a dark corridor until it reached a spiral staircase hidden behind a dusty bookshelf. The staircase descended into the depths of the earth, and cold, damp air emanated from its opening.
"Here," said Gália, feeling a shiver run down her spine. "There's something down here."
The rat descended the stairs, step by step, cautiously. The darkness grew deeper and deeper, and the silence was broken only by the sound of the rodent's steps and the Queen's ragged breath, sharing its perception.
Finally, the rat reached the bottom of the stairs, finding itself in a long stone corridor lit by torches. And then, Gália heard it. A faint, distant, but unmistakable sound: a tearful, muffled cry for help.
"Blake?" Gália murmured, recognizing the boy's voice. "He's here!"
She guided the rat down the corridor, following the sound of Blake's voice, until it reached a reinforced wooden door. The rat squeezed through a crack at the bottom of the door and entered the cell. Gália saw Blake, chained to the wall, his face stained with tears and an expression of despair.
"Blake!" said Gália, her voice echoing in the boy's mind through the rat. "Where is Logan?"
Blake started, looking around, confused. "Queen Gália?" he asked, not understanding. "How…?"
"There's no time for explanations," said Gália urgently. "Where is Logan?"
"They took him!" Blake replied, sobbing. "Some hooded men… they took him about twenty, maybe thirty minutes ago! I don't know where!"
"Twenty or thirty minutes?" Gália repeated, alarmed.
"Damn it!"
"Please, help him!" Blake pleaded. "I don't know what they'll do to him."
"Stay calm, Blake," said Gália, trying to reassure the boy.
"I will get you out of there. And I will find Logan. I promise."
Rogan, accompanied by Arthur Ironheart and elite soldiers, entered the room where Gália was, weak and tired, but with a determined glint in her eyes. Magnus, at the King's own request, had stayed behind, protecting the Queen and the castle. It was a task he had reluctantly accepted, torn between the desire to fight and the duty to protect.
"I found them," said Gália, her voice slightly hoarse from the effort. "Or at least, I found Blake. Logan was taken somewhere else, I think. In a cave, beneath an abandoned mansion north of the city."
Rogan turned to Magnus, who, despite his reluctance, stood beside Gália, ready to protect her with his life. "Magnus, stay and protect the Queen," he ordered. "Arthur and I will go with the soldiers to the location."
Magnus hesitated, visibly torn. "My King," he said, his voice heavy with conflict. "With all due respect, this is a matter for the royal family. I am the commander of the Royal Guard; my place is by your side, protecting you. And Blake…"
"I know, Magnus," Rogan interrupted, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know you want to go. But I need someone I trust to stay here and protect Gália. They might use this as a distraction. They could attack the castle while we're away."
Magnus tried to protest again, but Arthur interrupted him firmly. "Magnus, are you questioning your King's orders?" he asked, his brown eyes flashing. "At a time like this?"
Magnus looked from Arthur to Rogan, and finally, with a sigh of resignation, nodded. "No, my King," he said. "I will protect the Queen with my life."
He then turned to Gália and bowed. "My Queen, if I may, I will escort you to the throne room. It is the safest place in the castle, with the strongest defenses."
Gália nodded, grateful for Magnus's loyalty. "Thank you, Magnus," she said. "I feel safer with you here."
Magnus helped Gália to her feet, and together, they left the room, followed by a handful of trusted guards.
Rogan turned to Arthur, his gaze determined. "Let's go, Arthur," he said. "It's time for vengeance. It's time to rescue my son."
***
Logan was dragged through the dark, damp corridors until he reached a large chamber at the end of the passage. The room was circular, with rough stone walls covered in strange carvings and arcane symbols. In the center, upon an elevated platform, rested an altar of black stone, polished and gleaming like obsidian.
The altar was adorned with black candles and strange artifacts, and a pentagram was carved into the floor around it, glowing with a faint, sinister light.
Kael stood beside the altar, a cruel smile on his face. Around the room, several hooded men, the members of the Arcane Hunters, watched in silence, their menacing presence filling the space.
"Welcome, Prince Logan," said Kael, his hoarse voice echoing through the chamber. "To your destiny."
Logan looked around, feeling a chill run down his spine. The air was thick with a strange energy, a mixture of fear, anticipation, and something else, something ancient and powerful. He realized this place wasn't just a hideout; it was a place of power, a place where dark magic was practiced. And the altar in the center of the room was the centerpiece of it all.
"What are you going to do to me?" Logan asked, trying to keep his voice steady but feeling an uncontrollable tremor run through his body.
"I am going to release the power dormant within you," Kael replied, his eyes gleaming with fanatical intensity. "The power of the Arcane Beast. And then, I will take it for myself."
He signaled to the hooded men, who grabbed Logan by the arms and dragged him to the altar. Logan fought, kicked, and screamed, but it was useless. They were too strong.
"Let me go!" he yelled, struggling. "You can't do this!"
"Shut up, brat," said one of the men, slapping him across the face.
"Don't worry, Prince," said Kael with a sarcastic smile. "It will be quick. And painless. For me, at least."
They threw Logan onto the altar, the cold, hard stone against his back. Logan looked up, at the cave ceiling, at the shadowed faces of the hooded men, at Kael, approaching with a gleaming obsidian dagger in his hand.
Fear paralyzed him, and he realized his end was near. This was the end of the line. He would never fulfill his potential, never become the man he was meant to be, never see his father, his mother, or Blake again.
"Any last words, Your Highness?" Kael asked mockingly.
Logan looked at the cave ceiling, at the shadowed faces of the hooded men, at Kael, preparing to begin the ritual. Fear gripped him, but amidst the terror, a spark of determination flashed in his eyes. He wouldn't give in. He would fight to the end, even if it meant his death.
"Go to hell," Logan said, spitting in Kael's face.
Kael wiped the spittle away with the back of his hand, his smile twisting into a furious scowl.
"You'll regret that, brat," he said, his voice hissing.
He signaled to the hooded men, who began to chant in an ancient, guttural tongue. The air around the altar began to vibrate, and the red light from the pentagram on the floor intensified. Logan felt a strange force pulling at him, a numbness spreading through his body, and he realized the ritual had begun.
Kael raised the bone dagger above his head, and the sinister light emanating from the blade illuminated his face with a sickly glow.
"Say goodbye to your power, Prince," he said. "And hello to your new master."
Logan closed his eyes, feeling tears stream down his face. He thought of his father, his mother, Blake, Sky Reaper. He had failed them all. He hadn't been able to protect himself, hadn't been able to protect his friend, and now, he would die here, in this dark place, and his power would be used for evil purposes.
As the Arcane Hunters' chant grew louder and the energy around the altar intensified, Logan felt something stir within him. A strange sensation, a heat spreading through his veins, a strength he had never felt before. He opened his eyes and saw that the bone dagger in Kael's hands now glowed intensely, as if responding to something inside him.
Suddenly, pain ripped through his body, as if he were being torn apart from the inside out. Logan screamed, a cry of agony that echoed through the chamber, drowning out the Hunters' chant. He felt his body contort, his bones shifting, his muscles expanding. It was as if something were trying to break free—something large, something powerful, something… wild.
Kael looked at Logan, surprised, and then a cruel smile formed on his lips.
"Yes!" he exclaimed. "It's working! The power is awakening!"
The pain intensified, and Logan felt his consciousness slipping. He was about to pass out when, suddenly, an explosion of energy erupted from his body, an invisible shockwave that threw the hooded men back and made the altar tremble.
The red light of the pentagram abruptly went out, and the Hunters' chant ceased. Kael, who had been thrown off the platform, struggled to his feet, looking at Logan with a mixture of anger and surprise.
Logan slowly rose from the altar, his body trembling, his eyes glowing with an intense golden light, a light that wasn't his own, a light belonging to something far older, far more powerful. He looked down at his hands, which were now covered in a fine layer of fur, and felt his nails lengthening, sharpening into claws.
A transformation was happening. The power of the Arcane Beast, dormant for so long, was finally awakening. And the world would soon know the fury of Fenrir.
The heir had awakened. And with him, a storm was approaching.