Meeting In The Chief's Hut

"Dad, can I wring the elders' necks?" Isa asked with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, for hatred and fury were flickering in their depths like bright fire. "Like, right now?"

Nyell stifled a laugh at his sister's words, thinking they were indeed siblings. After learning what the elders had done, strangling these pricks had also been his first thought. However, he'd been slightly less expressive about it–almost punching Burg in the dream didn't count, according to Nyell. At any rate, unlike his sister, he was down to earth and knew what to prioritize when a serious situation arose. Slaughtering the elders out of the blue wasn't the best idea and would only lead to an uprising in the tribe. Even if they were to tell the others the truth, they might not believe it. It wasn't something people would accept right away, not when the elders had been portraying themselves as saints for decades.

"I'd love nothing more than to do that, too," Corriel sighed, "but we can't."

"Why not?!"

The chief pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache incoming. Maybe telling his daughter wasn't the best course of action they could have taken, but it wasn't like he could keep her out of it either. She was glued to her mate like her shadows, and Layla was glued to Myrven, who was, in turn, glued to Nyell. The little group was bound to stay together. Also, Corriel knew his daughter fairly well, and he could predict what would happen if he insisted on chasing her away and retained information from her; she would most likely either try to eavesdrop on them, or go off to investigate on her own. With this in mind, it was better to keep her by his side, where he could keep an eye on her whereabouts. She had too many antecedents of sneaking out and getting herself in trouble.

"I have a question," Myrven raised his hand, ignoring the fuming teenager who was still going on about breaking the elders' necks as if they were chickens and not werewolves. Myrven's gaze was locked onto the Black Moon tribe chief as he asked: "What do you want to do about Dangu?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Myrven rubbed the nap of his neck, seemingly a little ill at ease, "Let me give it to you straight: do you want to exorcise him or allow him to enact revenge on the elders? Then again, do you want to deal with the elders yourself? What is the course of action you want to take?"

Taken aback by the straightforward questions, Corriel seemed stunned. He frowned, not sure what he should answer. He had responsibilities to uphold as the chief and had to consider the whole picture. His personal feelings on the matter could cloud his mind and not allow him to opt for what was best for the tribe. If he were to listen to the little voice that had been whispering sweet but deadly things in his minds, he'd follow his daughter's lead and wring the elders's necks. He wouldn't even offer them a proper burial ground after killing them and would instead dump their corpses into the jungle. He might as well use their deaths for the greater good and feed the poor, starved beasts loitering the jungle.

Once a kind soul was angered, all hell tended to break loose. It was something Nyell had grown aware of over time. He had rarely seen his father angry, much less furious, but whenever it happened, even he felt bad for the idiots who had managed to incur Corriel's wrath. His usual kindness was replaced by a coolness akin to a demon's.

"If you want my opinion," Nyell said, "let Dangu enact revenge."

"Son, are you seriously considering that option…?"

"Why can't we?" Nyell shrugged, a vicious grin stretching his lips. "We can always pretend they've become victims of the disappearing case and bury the matter. There's no need to try to convince the people that the elders are two-faced bitches and are dragging a whole lot of atrocious deeds behind them. No one even remembers Dangu's existence, so who would believe us if we told them he met quite the dreadful end at the elders's hands? To make matters worse, we have no proof that the elders are the masterminds behind the current disappearing case; we only have conjectures based on a dream and our understanding of a dead person's possible motivation. Our sole lead is the shaman, who, if you remember, has gone into hiding. That said, how long do you think it would take us to find her?"

A silence was Nyell's answer.

"Yeah, I don't know either. I also don't know how long Dangu will stay low, but I don't think he'd wait eternally. Considering what happened in Burg's dream, he seems to have a personality similar to mine, and knowing myself, I wouldn't wait forever. Allen probably only brought us a bit of time, and we should use it wisely. Don't you think so?"

This time, Corriel responded with a sigh. 

"And how would you let Dangu spirit these men away? The elders haven't stepped outside the village since Hulien's death, staying well between the boundary of the protective array. I guess they know they would immediately become prey to the daemon if they did. Whatever baits you use, I'm pretty sure they won't fall for it and won't venture outside."

Nyell clicked his tongue. His father had a point. The elders were assholes, but they weren't fools. Weren't they still alive even after incurring the wrath of a daemon? They might have been using petty tricks, but it had the merit of doing the job. Add to that their pristine reputation despite the dirty deeds they did in the past… Right, deceiving them wouldn't be an easy feat.

"Can I propose something?" 

The voice wasn't loud, but it still drew people's attention. Lapis had kept to himself until now, so much that people had forgotten he was even in the room. Among the White Moon tribe members who had arrived last, he was the only one allowed to participate in the meeting. The shaman did help them to reveal the truth, after all, and he was a little too implicated in the matter now to be kept at bay.

"Yes, what is it?" Correil smiled gently, encouraging the man to talk.

"If Myur, the daemon's familiar spirit, were to come back haunting for its master's prey in the tribe, I could lead it to the correct targets…? I mean, the shaman under the elders is leading it astray, but I think I could somehow counter her spell if I met with it first. I only need to see it and bind it to me instead. Didn't you say you more or less know where Allen's location is? Wherever he is, the daemon and his familiar spirit are bound to be close by. Also, I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to tell Dangu our plan, just to be sure we're on the same wavelength. Like you said, you only have conjectures, and we don't know for certain that the only prey he's after are the elders. We wouldn't want him to switch his attention to the rest of the tribe following the elders's demise."

"…"

Everyone looked at Lapis with surprise, soon replaced by a newfound respect. They might be unable to lure the elders outside, but it was another story for Myur. It could take the elders one per one, possessing their bodies, and lead them to its master on a golden platter. They could then use the same method they used to make it seem like they had been spirited away and ensure no one had memories of the elders leaving on their own during the night.

"You reap what you sow, as they say," Nyell chuckled. "You know what? I'm pretty curious about that uncle of mine. I'd very much like to meet him."

Although indirectly, Nyell thus declared he'd be part of the group meeting the daemon. Whether his father agreed or not didn't matter; he'd made up his mind, and no one could convince him otherwise. Moreover, it was about time Allen ended his little date with Dangu and returned to the tribe, though Nyell kept that thought to himself. He felt like he'd never hear the end of it if he voiced it aloud in presence of his noisy little sister.