Restless, Raiden tossed and turned on his fur, unable to find solace in sleep. The fireplace dormant, for he was boiling on the inside.

Since their morning departure, he hadn't touched food or drink, his appetite vanished. Uma- his constant and reliable companion had departed, choosing a path he wished to no one. Her words echoed in his mind, and with each wave they whittled deeper and deeper. Listen to her  she had urged, but Raiden couldn't bring himself to do so. The wounds inflicted ran deep, too deep for easy mending.

Frustration gnawed at him. Perhaps the nixians were right; emotions were for the weak-hearted, good for nothing.

They don't deserve this, Uma's voice echoed once more. 

He would release the bonnie redheaded lass from her cell, though his wolves would keep a close watch. He needed to be careful. After all, she was the daughter of Illre. But she would not be up for claiming. Raiden had a hunch that Jayce would have something to say if so.

His mind wandered to a sweet, innocent face with blue eyes framed by blond tresses. Small hand, slowly caressing  his cheek, soft pink lips-

Suddenly, a pained howl pierced the night's silence. Jayce.

Consumed by worry, Raiden's heart raced as he sprinted from his chambers to the dungeons. What misfortune had descended upon them?

Enveloped by a sense of urgency, he entered the dungeon and headed straight for the last cell, the one designed to hold in the likes of them. With a resounding clang, he swung open the heavy door. "Jayce!"

The former First Aga writhed on the ground, clutching his hand in agony. "Something is happening to her!" Jayce screamed, pain coursing through him as he twisted and turned on the damp, moldy floor.

"To whom?" Raiden demanded.  But he knew the answer before Jayce could reply.

Could he wholly trust Jayce? Or was he being led astray? Without proof of either, Raiden couldn't risk it. He secured the heavy chains around Jayce's wrists and ankles, ensuring no trouble would arise for the time being.

"I'll track the wagon, Jayce. It must still be in the Midland," Raiden assured before sealing the door shut once more. It was hard, hard to see his once trusted friend and Aga like this. To have to bound him in that filthy cell. Yet Raiden knew he couldn't afford to be swayed by sentimentality, not when the fate of their realm hung in the balance.

As he strode purposefully down the corridor toward the exit, he caught sight of the trembling prisoner huddled in a corner, fear evident in her posture. His werewolf eyes adjusted easily to the darkness, but she, being human, struggled to see. Halting, Raiden's harsh tone commanded "Get up, lower." Uma would have approved, he thought wryly to himself.

The werewolf king strode purposefully towards the hall house, his grip firm on the lass's elbow, guiding her along as she limped beside him.

As they approached, Rhys emerged, his expression etched with concern, followed closely by Liam, the First Aga, and a throng of warriors.

"What is happening?" Rhys's worried voice cut , his gaze flickering between Raiden and the trembling girl, who looked like she was about to faint at any moment.

Behind them, a sickening song of clanks and bangs screeched, signaling Jayce's relentless struggle against his bonds. Each metallic clang reverberated through the heavy air, a testament of the determination to break free from his confinement. The sound served as a stark reminder of the urgent task at hand, urging Raiden to hasten his preparations before Jayce's newfound strength overpowered the stout defenses of their makeshift prison.

Without pausing to respond, Raiden motioned for a nearby warrior and handed over the girl. "Take her to the barn, and keep watch until morning. She is not for claiming." he instructed tersely, his focus already shifting to the gathering of warriors ahead.

Barking orders to Liam, his First Aga, Raiden instructed him to gather three of the fastest trackers and three of the most skilled warriors, ready to await him in the hall. With swift efficiency, Raiden dispersed the remaining warriors, assigning them to reinforce strategic and defensive positions across their territory.

Entering the hall house, Raiden's mind raced with urgency. He knew Jayce would not be contained for much longer.

"Can you tell me what is going on?" Rhys's voice cut through the tension, his worry etched deeper upon his features with each passing moment.

Ignoring Rhys's inquiry for the moment, Raiden barged into his room, a sense of urgency driving him forward. Heading straight to the heavy chest in the corner, he knelt beside it, rummaging through its contents until he unearthed a small, round white berry. Rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted his gaze towards Rhys. "This!"

Puzzled, Rhys opened his mouth to speak, but Raiden pressed on. "He is compelled to Her, Rhys. I don't know why, nor does he," Raiden confessed, his voice tinged with frustration.

Rhys waited, anticipation hanging heavy in the air, but no further explanation came. Just as he was about to inquire again, Raiden spoke once more, his tone grave. "Dilute this, and make him drink. Half of it, not all."

Lost for words, Rhys approached cautiously, his hand outstretched to receive the coated white berry.

Turning towards the window, Raiden peered out into the night, the moon's cold light casting long shadows across the earth below. "Don't go alone. He is much more powerful now. You cannot hold him down by yourself," Raiden warned.

.....

Bathing in the cold, clear moonlight, two dead horses lay sprawled on the ground, their once majestic forms now twisted and lifeless. Among the carnage, scattered body parts of vampires and werewolves painted a macabre picture of the fierce conflict that had unfolded.

In the aftermath, two human slave girls, their expressions frozen in terror, huddled together in a thorny bush, at the edge of the forest that draped the road. White as ghosts, eyes wide with fear.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind, the nixian king struggled to make sense of what lay before him. Time seemed to stand still as he grappled with the unexpected turn of events. She was nowhere to be found, her absence shrouded in mystery. Why had Declan struck earlier? THAT WAS NOT THE PLAN!

Closing the distance with swift agility, he knelt beside the wounded prince, whose faint plea for salvation hung in the air. With a mixture of anger and disgust, Caleb seized Declan by the bloodied hair, his voice edged with urgency. "Where is SHE?"

But even as he sought answers, Caleb's thoughts strayed to Illre, the head of the Dawners, whose absence was now obvious. He had sent the fool with them, to chase away any suspicions. Not that he cared for the Dawner, yet he was still a leverage. His fury only grew as Declan's feeble response failed to provide the information he sought.

In the dim light of the moon, Caleb's gaze hardened as he met Declan's bloodied eyes.

"You don't deserve to live," he declared, his voice cold and unforgiving. "You've tasted Her blood when you had no right to. And now, defeated, you are nothing but a sore sight."

"You think you've won, Caleb," the wounded vampire rasped, blood trickling from his lips.

Caleb scoffed, dismissing whatever unimportant talk would follow.

Declan's lips curled into a twisted smile. "I might be a sorry sight, Caleb," he taunted. "but you see, I know why you want the girl. I felt it in her blood."

Caleb's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his features. "What do you mean?"

With a grim, forced chuckle, Declan revealed his scheme. "I know you intend to use her to find the missing page. You believe she knows its whereabouts because it was her mother who possessed it all along. But that's not all, is it, Caleb? You plan to take the girl's power for yourself, don't you? To wield it for conquest."

Shock registered on Caleb's face before it was swiftly replaced by a mask of determination. "You know nothing," he spat. "And even if you did, it's too late. Your time is up." By the fast-approaching sunrise, Declan's existence would meet its end. That was a certain truth.

With a roar of frustration, Caleb turned his wrath on the two slave girls huddled together in the bushes at the forest's edge. He strolled to them, his face twisted in anger.

In a fierce grip, he seized one of the slaves by the neck, hoisting her into the air as if she weighed nothing. "The blonde one, from the cell, WHO TOOK HER?" His voice thundered, laced with a primal rage that turned his eyes as black as the deepest pit of tar.

The slave clawed desperately at Caleb's arm, her feeble attempts to break free only serving to enrage him further.

"P-please," she gasped, her voice choked with fear and desperation. But Caleb's fury brooked no mercy. With a vicious snarl, he slammed her to the ground, the sickening crack of her skull against a rock echoing through the night. Her pleas for mercy were silenced in an instant, her eyes vacant and still.

The other slave's cry pierced the air, a haunting scream of terror and despair. With savage swiftness, Caleb lunged towards her, fangs deep into her neck. As he drank deeply of her lifeblood, her sorry struggles faltered, her strength draining away with each crimson droplet that fell.

"I know your secrets, Caleb," Declan's voice cut through the night, halting Caleb mid-drink. "I know where you wonder sometimes, and I've seen the marks in the dust, on the bricks of old walls, and the blackened tips of your fingers..."

Caleb paused, baffled, before tossing the slave aside, her lifeblood spared in those fleeting moments. He turned back towards Declan, rage igniting in his eyes as he stepped determinedly forward, intent on finishing him off once and for all.

A powerful, close howl echoed through the forest, interrupting Caleb. He froze, recognizing the sound. Without a word, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Declan to the mercy of the approaching beast. He knew it would finish the job in no time.

.....

Saeban emerged from the shadows, moving with the fluid grace of a predator. His path was clear, guided by the king's orders, his mission etched into his mind, keeping him focused.

 Accompanying the wagon on the common road till he had to take his own path, he ensured her safety for as long as he could, a duty born not just of sympathy but of a lingering fondness for her, traitor or not. And he knew he wasn't alone in this sentiment. The wolves whispered, but his urge was deeper, a need to shield her, one he couldn't understand. Since that day in the market, the day he bought a glazed apple for the first time.

Surveying the grim aftermath, he cataloged the dead and the missing, the blast of violence still lingering in the air. Recognizing the two wolves he had vowed to hold accountable for their crimes, he felt a pang of regret that they had escaped justice in death. But his attention was drawn to Dawn and Uma, their absence a chilling mystery that hung heavy in the air.

As he approached the two slaves near the bush, Saeban's keen senses detected the faint pulse of life in one, her vitality drained by an insatiable beasts hunger. But the other was beyond his help, her skull shattered, blood still warm upon the earth.

"H-help m-me," came a weak plea, drawing Saeban's gaze to Declan.

With a determined stride, Saeban lifted the half-dead girl into his arms, his voice firm as he posed his offer to Declan.

"Help her first" he demanded, gesturing towards the girl in his embrace. Rumors had long whispered of the benefits of a vampire's blood, and Saeban sensed an opportunity to test it.

"Y-yes," Declan replied, his strength waning with each passing moment.

Gently placing the girl beside Declan, he wasted no time. "Help her now," his command brooked no argument, knowing that her survival held the key to unraveling the night's mysteries.

With a last surge of determination, Declan raised his bleeding arm to the girl's mouth. "Open it," he urged, and Saeban complied, guiding her to swallow the life-giving droplets. As exhaustion claimed Declan, he whispered, "My turn."

Saeban rose from the side of the maiden, pondering deeply.

If he rescued the vampire prince, he could demand nearly anything in return. Regardless of his vampiric nature, a prince's favor is a rare thing to have. Moreover, allowing him to perish would benefit no one presently, especially after overhearing what the vampire king had muttered upon abandoning him to his fate.

He was certain that Declan would eventually seek vengeance, and such a turn of events would play well into King Raiden's hands.

Declan eyed him warily, his gaze growing heavy. "You cannot rescue me, can you?" he murmured faintly, resigned to his fate.

Though the werewolf was young, his knowledge surpassed that of many. The venom of a werewolf was lethal, particularly if the wolf in question was powerful. Physically, Saeban might not match the might of others at the king's seat, but his agility and other attributes compensated for it, instilling fear in many. And he possessed enough strength for this task.

What only few knew was that one would be turned from tarr's gates by the venom if the blood of the same beast coursed through them—a fact proven by the nightwalker king when he survived a bite from Raiden, exactly because  the sucker bit the werewolf king right before. The silver blade at his side gleamed as he pressed it against his own wrist. He planned to use this method to rescue the vampire, though he prepared himself for the exhaustion that would follow.

"Oh, I can," Saeban replied, pressing his wrist against Declan's mouth despite the vampire's attempt of resistance.

"I cannot... ingest," Declan stammered, hinting at the prohibition against vampires drinking werewolf blood. Ignoring his protests, the wolf pressed harder, ensuring that the bloodsucker absorbed his blood, all while he concentrated all his werewolf venom at the tips of his fangs. "But you shall yearn for death," he added, sinking teeth deep into flesh.

.....

Hastening beneath the shroud of night, a small company journeyed toward an unknown destination. Dawn, gripped by terror, struggled to comprehend the events unfolding before her. Uma, trailing behind, gently prodded her whenever her pace faltered, while two cloaked figures, their faces obscured, flanked her on either side.

Lost in the journey's length and unaware of her captors' identities, Dawn's feet grew numb, matching the chill in the air. Gradually, the dark sky began to shift, revealing hints of blue and pink as dawn announced  the start of a new day.

Eventually, they arrived at an unfamiliar location—a boundary where the forest floor gradually begun to give way to rocky ground and then to a narrow strip of sand.

Dawn observed as icy chunks floated lazily on the waves. Despite her boots, the coldness of the sand seeped through, making Uma to adjust the fabric draped over Dawn's shoulders for added warmth.

One of the cloaked figures produced a slender wooden object, which they blew upon with gloved hands. Soon after, a small boat emerged from the misty waters, becoming clearer as daylight grew stronger and the fog begun to lift slowly. Dawn spotted a man standing at the boat's helm, holding a tall staff. Her gaze fixed on a familiar hat, and as she met his eyes, the lass somehow recognized  the hot ambers in his fire-spitting gaze.

As the boat reached the shore, the two cloaked figures knelt in reverence as the elderly man stepped ashore. Uma bowed respectfully, while Dawn, speechless and amazed, remembered of another realm, the one where the grass was blue and the water seemed alive, fire bits dancing thru.

Was that... was he?  Puzzled, she cautiously approached him.

 "My mission is delivered." With these words, Uma removed one of her boots and loosened the covering of the heel, revealing from the secret compartment a silver chain adorned with a star, sparkling in the light of the rising sun.

My pendant, Dawn marveled, her amazement growing as she tried to recall how and when she had lost it. It had been nestled in the hem of her tattered garments, the very ones that Uma had collected in the cell, when she cleansed herself.

Raising the pendant high, Uma declared, "The proof."

"No need for that, Uma, she is exactly the same," the man concluded, his piercing gaze fixed on Dawn's face as he gestured toward the waiting boat with a subtle shake of his head.

In agreement with his words, Uma bowed her head. Dawn swiftly snatched her star chain from Uma's hand, clutching it tightly.

As she turned her gaze once more to the man with the tall white staff, she felt a gentle push towards the boat, accompanied by the voice of one of the cloaked figures, speaking for the first time:

 "At your command, Elder Crenn."