Chapter 7

The room was lit only by the pulse of the crystal orb, a soft bluish glow that cast shifting shadows along black stone walls. Syron sat perfectly still in his high-backed ironwood chair, his left sleeve neatly pinned where an arm used to be. The loss had somewhat sharpened him. It had not humbled him — it had made him focused, coiled, silent in his anger, like serpent. Before him stood two warlocks, one of them, Elara—who turned out to be the owner of the restaurant Eva and Angelina work at— tall, raven-haired, with eyes that glimmered like shards of cobalt, and Kael — broad-shouldered, scarred, with an aura of quiet, frightening stillness. Their expressions lacked emotion. “You are entirely sure that Dranum orchestrated the attack?” He asked. “Yes, I am as sure as can be.” Elara replied head bowed. “He’s playing a wildcard.” Kael chipped in. Syron’s remaining hand hovered over the glowing orb, swirling mist revealing flashes of movement, forest images, blurred shadows, a flicker of Daniel’s aura. “I want him found,” Syron murmured, his voice low… too calm. The kind of calm that brims violence. “I don’t want to find out what Dranum wants with him.” His eyes reflected a faint glow of magic as he leaned forward. “And when you find him…” he continued. Elara bowed slightly. “You wish him alive, First Warlock?” Syron’s lips twitched, almost amused. “For now.” He replied and paused to think, “I think I’d like to rip him open to see what it is that Dranum so desperately want from him.” Kael exchanged a glance with Elara. Syron went on, voice tightening. “If Dranum gets to him first, my advantage is gone. Then all of this—” He motioned around, lifted his empty sleeve slightly, then let it drop, “—will be for nothing.” Elara tilted her head. “Do you fear Dranum has already begun influencing him?” The question was bold, almost disrespectful, but Syron answered it. “Dranum influences everyone,” Syron said. “He molds minds as potters mold clay. He doesn’t always command, sometimes he simply allow people to become who they secretly already are.” “If that’s true, then I fear we might be playing into his hands, don’t you think?” Kael asked, “First Warlock?” He chipped in quickly. Syron paused as if for a thought, then his voice hardened. “Daniel’s is the variable. Bring him to me. Before Dranum does.” Elara bowed. Kael nodded. Syron lifted his hand to dismiss them. “Go.” With a quick incantation spoken under their breath, they dissolved into black mist and vanished. Syron stared at the orb a moment longer, then, slammed his fist into it, the crystal cracked, magic stuttered, the light flickered and died. He whispered into the darkness. “One of us dies next. Daniel… or Dranum. And it won’t be me.” --- Daniel was alone in the Granland forest. The human world with its lights and noise had vanished behind him. Here, leaves rustled in layered whispers. The moon was veiled behind drifting clouds, and the air smelled of soil and old bark. Every step Daniel took was, quiet. The forest had a pulse, and he walked at pace with its rhythm. He paused near a clearing, breathed in slowly and closed his eyes. This felt like peace, the first true quiet he had felt in days. Until that quiet changed. He sensed it — not as sound — but as pressure, a stench, a disturbance in the air’s content, Magic. Two presences, cold, calculated, not human. He didn’t turn, he spoke into the stillness, and “You can come out. I already know you’re there.” From between the trees, Elara emerged first, stepping into moonlight, eyes glowing faintly blue. Kael followed, silent, his gaze steady. Daniel studied them. “You’re not wolves. And you're definitely not one of Dranum’s.” Elara smirked. “Correct on both counts, little vampire.” “Little?” Daniel allowed a little smile of amusement to escape his lips. Kael spoke next, his voice deep and controlled. “We represent Syron, First Warlock of the Cavern Order. He sends his regards.” “Warlocks.” Daniel’s jaw tightened in irritation .“And his demands?” Elara stepped closer, confidence in every motion. “He wants you. Alive. Preferably cooperative.” “Everyone has suddenly grown a different sort of interest in me,” Daniel replied. Kael no longer replied, she only raised one hand, palm outward, there was a pressure shift, like air stretching, and then— a wave of black energy tore forward. Daniel dove sideways, the blast ripping a groove in the earth where he’d stood, he landed, rolled, and sprang up again, stance ready. “So that’s how we’re doing this.” As he got ready for combat. Elara flicked her wrist and chanted, “Ignis eximo.” A searing stream of blue balls of fire hurled toward him, Daniel sprinted through trees, each strike narrowly missing — barks exploding, wood sap sizzling from heat. Daniel used cover when he could, he wasn’t invincible, and knew better than to pretend otherwise. Elara called out. “You can’t outrun magic forever!” Daniel shouted back. “And you can’t hit what you can’t catch!” She snarled and unleashed another spell, but this time Daniel charged through, it was like he warped space as he covered the space between them in an instant and dove into her, before the next ball of fire could leave her hand. They crashed to the forest floor, and in a flash, just as he came, he disappeared into the darkness again. “You’re fast. I’ll give you that.” Elara grunted, she bit out between clenched teeth as she got back up to her feet. Daniel appeared again like he materialized from the wind and swept her off her feet, and immediately she touched the ground, locked her wrist to the ground. “And you talk too much.” Kael appeared behind him —silent as fog— and swung a blade of pure shadow downward. Daniel barely reacted in time, twisting away, but he wasn’t quick enough, the blade slicing across his ribs, leaving a glowing, smoking wound. He hissed through the pain, eyes flaring. He kicked Kael backward, spun, and tackled him — slamming him into a tree trunk hard enough to shake loose bark. Pinning Kael down, he bared his fangs, not as threat, but as declaration. “I don’t want to kill you.” A stunned Kael wheezed out, “You… couldn’t.” Daniel’s voice lowered. “You’d be surprised.” Then Elara’s voice rose behind him, quiet, strained, but laced with bitterness of sort. “He’s not afraid to kill, Kael. But he’s afraid of something else.” Daniel turned slightly, wary. Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, what is Daniel more afraid of , Dranum… or himself?” Daniel threw her a sharp look. “You don’t know anything about me.” She laughed, low and unnerving, her trick seemed to be working. “Oh, I know enough. Dranum wants you as an ally. Syron probably wants you as a weapon? I’m not sure even he knows why. But you? You don’t even know what you are.” That hit deeper than he expected Daniel stood frozen— just long enough. Kael seized the moment, “Ventus.” He chanted quickly, a surge of black air shot up from his palm, blasting Daniel backward into the dirt. Pain spiked through Daniel’s injured side, he forced himself up despite it. Elara began chanting, string of words that seemed to scrape the soul, her palms ignited with spiraling sigils, Kael mirrored, her stance wide, arms drawn back. Daniel heard their voices overlap — rising, climbing in pitch and power, he recognized the danger instantly. If those two spells hit at once, he wouldn’t be walking away. So he didn’t dodge, he sprinted into them. It stunned them both, enough to break their timing. Daniel slammed a knee into Elara’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her, and in the same instant, he proceeded to grab Kael by the throat, slamming him hard into the ground. Kael gasped, choking, Daniel’s fangs inches from his neck. Anger burned through Daniel’s voice. “I told you — I don’t want to kill either of you, but if you push me—” From the ground, Elara, wheezing, lifted one tremoring hand and whispered a spell. A lance of raw crackling magic shot into Daniel’s flank. He shouted in pain, stumbling backward, dropping Kael. Smoke rose from the wound on his side, glowing, sizzling, not healing yet. Elara coughed, struggled to her knees, and called hoarsely. “Kael… go!” Kael scrambled up, but before he could take his first step, Daniel appeared before him. Not just that, he could feel something clutching his heart, Daniel’s hand. Streams of blood began to run down his mouth the same moment realization struck. He looked down at his chest, and Daniel’s hand was there, inside him. “I warned.” Daniel growled, then tilted his head towards Elara. She froze, not from fear, but from terror, his eyes glowed red, “he’s not normal, no vampire should have survived the first twenty seconds.” She thought to herself, as she scrambled backwards on her butt. “You didn’t listen.” Daniel continued, he detached his hand from Kael’s chest and his lifeless body fell to the ground. He then lifted Kael’s heart to his mouth and bit a chunk off of it, as he advanced belligerently —eyes fixed— towards Elara who still hadn’t figured out how to get to her feet. “Please don’t kill me.” Elara pleaded, immediately, what was left of Kael’s heart thudded between her legs, she looked down at it. Before loads of screams could leave her throat, Daniel’s hand clamped it and she was hanging midair.. “I should kill you.” Daniel said, the red glow in his eyes slowly fading. “But I’m not willing to meet Syron yet, so I’m going to have to send someone.” He freed her and she dropped to the ground, he then stooped after her, the glow in his eyes completely gone now, and his wounds completely healed. “Tell Syron, that I know about the arm he lost to Dranum, but if he is persistent in unnerving me like he did tonight, he can kiss the rest of his limbs goodbye.” Daniel exhaled and rose to his feet. “Tell Syron, if he wants me, he should come himself.” Elara nodded as if to say I understand amidst stifled sobs, what remained of Kael’s heart laying before her face. “Even though it wouldn’t end well for him.” Then he turned to leave, Elara prayed desperately with everything in her that he didn’t change his mind, she laid there listening, just receding footsteps, breaking twigs, then silence. Then she slowed reached for Kael’s body, chanted a quick incantation and they dissolved into dark mist and returned, not the same way they came. Daniel leaned against a tree — breath slow, eyes shut. He thought deep “I have to keep this side suppressed “ but he knew the truth, the thin layer that sealed this version of him that he just displayed —easily rip, but not easily mended. He ran a shaking hand over where his wound was supposed to be, the forest wind whispered around him, his heartbeat slowed, his breathing leveled. But in that silence…He sensed something else, not warlock, not wolf. A presence… watching. Not near, yet not far. Daniel whispered into the darkness, “Dranum… if that’s you… I’m not in the mood.” No reply, just the long dark quiet, and Daniely… alone.