Chapter 3

Granland’s council of wolves hall smelled of damp stone and old fur. Eva and her sister knelt before the arc of chairs carved out of stone, hands folded behind her back; two broad-shouldered males stood sentinel at their sides. The highest chair was heavier than the rest — a stone seat painted with a silver wolf’s face. It held the kind of presence that made anyone measure their speech. A figure detached himself from the shadows and took the alpha’s chair as if the place had been waiting. He was lean and tall — close to six foot three — with an oblong face, short hair, and the hard look of a man who had learned to keep his distance. A dagger hung at his hip. When his eyes landed on Eva there was a hint of distaste. “Where is he?” the alpha asked without ceremony. “I lost him,” Eva answered. The alpha laughed, the sound small in the big room. “If I’d heard this story, I wouldn’t have believed it. Are you saying that, you lost the enemy and then disappeared, for days?” He asked, “A mole in a wolf pack?” “I’m no mole,” Eva said quickly. “I speak the truth.” “Then why did you not report back after that night? Maybe you were smitten with him,” the alpha continued, and the accusation landed like a challenge. Eva’s face hardened. “Believe whatever you need to. My answer will not change, because it is the truth.” An elder’s voice cut in from the circle. “Where have you been, Eva?” “At home,” she snapped. “Working for a living— something you self acclaimed elders never taught me to do.” The bitterness in her voice was immediate and raw; a hush followed. The alpha leaned forward. “Forgive my outburst” Eva added quickly and bowed her head slightly. “Accepted.” The Alpha replied quickly “Now. Where is he?” he pressed. “Like I said — I lost him. And Dranum is back. He’s after Daniel. I advise you to be sensible: leave whoever’s chasing him alone. Do not awaken what has been sleeping. From what I’ve heard, Dranum will crush anyone who stands in his way. We aren’t ready for that.” She said. “But I thought he was a myth.” She added. “Actually he isn’t.” One of the elders replied. “He was the greatest foe ever known to the race of the Lycan.” “He killed off many wolves, even our dreams of being immortal, like the vampires.” Another elder added. “For reasons unknown.” “Although he went under the radar, for a very long time now,” The Alpha said. “There are still sparse reports of entire wolf packs being wiped out entirely at random locations across the world, courtesy of Dranum, if he really is here, we are definitely not safe.” The elders exchanged looks. One of them spoke softly, “If Dranum is real, then we are not safe.” “How did you learn this?” an elder demanded. “We cannot act on rumor.” Eva’s throat tightened. She could have told the truth: the fragmentary things Daniel had admitted between bites of meat, the way his hands had trembled when he mentioned the name. Instead she lied: “Daniel made mention of it, during the little run in I had with him before he escaped.” Silence settled like dust. The alpha’s eyes held hers with a weight that made her want to look away. Then he surprised her, he said. “Rise.” Eva stood. All attention focused on her. “Perhaps you have forgotten that wolves have the ability to listen to the heartbeat and decipher if a person is lying or not, and you my dear failed.” Eva was visibly shocked, but she was calmed by the raised hand of the Alpha, signifying her to calm down. “You should be duly punished, but I have a different plan,, and the plan is this: we select two of our best to keep watch, you, Eva and your sister, Angelina. Protect him quietly. Draw Dranum’s eyes. Wear him down. Don’t charge in blind.” A murmur of disapproval rose immediately. “That’s madness,” one elder barked. “We’d be protecting a monster.” “A monster who ran from us,” Eva replied, pointed and steady. “He found me in a situation where he could have killed me; he didn’t. If we do nothing, Dranum will come for Daniel and then for us. We are the largest pack around. He would not pass us by.” The alpha’s expression shifted; caution and calculation met. “I think there is merit in her words.” He looked around. Heads nodded. “I nominate Eva and Angelina to watch him. Make him our ally if you can. Keep him close. This pack’s survival may depend on it.” Eva felt the chair of responsibility settle on her shoulders. “I will serve,” she said, voice low but steady, and bowed. --- On a rooftop that caught the last of the city’s light, a man stood with his hands running through black hair, the wind loosening the fabric of a nearly translucent white shirt. He could have been a model from a poster if not for the way his gaze tracked the streets below with a hunger in it. He half-smiled as the sound of heels announced a woman — Cecile — joining him. “You’ve kept me waiting, Cecile,” he said without turning. “I counted on your patience,” she replied. “And it has paid off. Daniel is in town. With two werewolf women.” “A werewolf? They’re supposed to be enemies.” He sounded mildly surprised. “They’re living together. I don’t get it either.” Cecile’s voice had the sharpness of someone used to digging up secrets. “They don’t seem to have noticed anything… yet.” “Tell the warlocks not to touch him,” the man said, tone flat. “They are to watch, not strike. Whoever has eyes on him should not lose sight.” “That’s insane,” Cecile snapped. “You want every warlock in the district to trail a monster? Sit back and watch him grow stronger? Are you planning to let him rip us apart while we take notes?” “He won’t, Cecile.” The man’s baritone snapped like a whip. Purple sparks gathered around his fingers and his temper flared. “Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing? I am Syron — First Warlock.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back. “You’re chasing old grudges. Dranum is the real problem, I don’t know whatever deal you have going on with him, but your treading dangerous grounds Syron, I’ll have everyone know your wish, but I wish you know what you’re doing,.” She ended and took her leave, leaving Syron in a state of mixed feelings, anger, uncertainty, disappointment. A sound behind him made him turn. Dranum dropped lightly to the rooftop as if he had been stepping out of a shadow. He wore red and black like a stain on the night, a cape falling in perfect folds. He smiled with the confidence of a man who never feared an empty room. “What are you looking for?” Syron barked, irritation and pride flaring. “Just keeping an eye on my stubborn, young partner,” Dranum said, the smile not leaving his face. “My advice might have helped.” “You and I are not partners,” Syron said, stepping forward until their faces were close. He was taller and leaned down, trying to dominate. Dranum barely moved. “I don’t like being looked down on,” Dranum murmured. As the words proceeded from his mouth, subtle pulse of power lifted from him like heat. It slammed into Syron, throwing him several feet back. He hit the rooftop with a thud and scrambled upright, face flushed with shock. “Did you just attack me?” Syron demanded, struggling to regain his composure. Dranum folded his hands behind him and paced a little, as if strolling down a corridor of memory. “When Daniel disappeared, I sought him. I learned someone could hide from half the world, but not from the first warlock’s magic. I sought your father for help. He found Daniel and —” Dranum cut the story short with a casual gesture at his throat. “You replaced him, and you were fiercer. I thought you’d be wiser.” Syron looked ready to retort, to storm away. “I’m done playing games,” he said, voice low. “Then remember why we agreed,” Dranum continued, speaking softly as if laying out the terms of a bargain. “I don’t want Daniel dead. I want him under my control. You want him gone. If you bring him in alive, you get a reward: access to the Oracle’s Eye.” Syron laughed with a bitter edge. “You expect me to believe you actually possess the Oracle’s Eye? I’m out if this is a lie.” Dranum’s grin only widened. “You’re welcome to leave.” His voice was bland. “I wasn’t sure you’d be worthy of the Eye anyway. Two of my people have already found Daniel. I don’t need you.” Syron straightened. “Not if I get to him first. You can’t contain him — and I don’t need him alive, do I?” He paused as if savoring the thought. “You don’t.” Dranum’s whisper was close enough to chill. “But trying to kill him would only breed more chaos. Chaos breeds opportunities, Syron, but I don’t really want chaos. I want control.” Syron’s fingers curled on the rooftop edge. He glanced past Dranum toward the city: a tangle of streets and alleys where a single misstep could change everything. He turned to leave, decision made, shoulders set against the night wind. As Syron moved away, Dranum’s grin shifted into something colder .“I guess it runs in the family then, because I can remember your father trying the same stuff, I didn’t even end well, as much as I recall.” He said. The rooftop fell silent except for the soft sigh of the wind and Dranum’s quiet, satisfied whisper. Syron's eyes seemed to burn with an otherworldly intensity as he turned, the air thickening with tension. The words hung in the air like a challenge, a promise of retribution, and a haunting reminder of a past that refused to stay buried. The darkness gathered, the shadows twisting into sinister silences, as Syron's voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "You shouldn't have brought up the past