WE MUST GO TO HIGH TOWN
A vortex opens up in a hallway of dark coverings, walls so tall they seem to disappear into the darkness hovering around the ceiling.
From this rent in reality, a white werewolf bursts forth, its fur streaked crimson with blood, a shallow gash marring its ribs.
He takes a few steps along the ghastly hall of silence until he reaches an entrance leading to a dining hall.
Familiar faces, he sees them first.
Celsius' fur retracts as he returns to his human form.
Rivena and Tyson, the dwarf, sit at the table.
"Celsius", they chorus at the sight of their comrade. Weary and defeat hide behind his eyes as he struggles to meet theirs, "Where's Malice?", Tyson asks, eyes filled with furious curiosity.
"The Queen of High Town has a piece of the crescent moon, she killed Malice", he says with a low voice.
He coughs, almost staggering.
Rivena's gaze dims, a flicker of resignation.
"So it is not going to be easy after all. I should have been the one who went with you", Tyson grunts.
"Silence, dwarf. We will honour her and when fate allows it, we must go to High Town and exact vengeance".
HIGH TOWN
The hall bursts with colour, a vibrant spectacle. Crystalline gems, suspended from the vaulted ceiling, scatter light like captured stars.
Their radiance amplifying the room's already luminous glow.
A round table decorated with figures of importance in the kingdom. The council members sit, summoned with great haste, only a few make it in time.
The chairs circle the round table, each a perfect echo of the next, except one.
It stands subtly apart, a visual whisper of distinction amidst the proclaimed equality, a constant, tangible reminder of the title held by its occupant.
It used to be the King's but now it is occupied to his one and only heir, Prince Alaric.
His hands are rested on the table, having only three members of the council present out of the six.
Lord Jaxriel Goodmouse, Lady Sylvia Topnotch and Lord Rowan Callisto.
"This is a hasty arrangement so we will excuse the absence of the other council members", the prince addresses the table. "Today is a sad day. My father, King Richard Highstone III was murdered in cold blood by assassins" he says.
"We have also been blessed however with the return of my mother, the Queen. She has recovered and risen from her coma.
It is something worth celebrating but we must honour my father.
Give him a burial worthy of a king", he looks around, from each council member to the other.
"Well said my lord but if the king was assassinated what does that say about our defences?", lady Sylvia speaks.
A short old woman with pure grey hair across her scalp.
She holds a simple smile with eyes that barely open, "Nothing good. A matter to be addressed another time. We must find out what we can about this intruders.
The king managed to kill one of the intruders. Her corpse is with the physician", Alaric says.
"Forgive me my lord but why do we need to know about a corpse? We need to find out who sent these assassins", lord Jaxriel speaks. Head nudging forward as if to peep over the prince.
"Nothing, that isn't the interesting part but you still need to know for the sake of transparency.
You politicians love that.
The interesting part is that they were two assassins. And it is said that the one that escaped was a werewolf", Alaric's eyes move from left to right until they land on the small woman on the council table.
"Are you accusing me of something, young prince?", her eyes stay kin on his even in their squinted form.
"You are in charge of the werewolves in our country. You are known, you can do something about this", "You forget that there are rogue werewolves and other monsters here".
"They have never dared to approach the castle. A werewolf coming here will have to be someone who has powerful backing and there is no werewolf more powerful than you in this court", Alaric says.
Words carrying unease even as he speaks clear, "If it's not one of yours then help find the werewolf. Let us avenge the king. You owe it to him as his subject".
Lady Sylvia smiles broadly, never frowning even when disrespected.
"You will make a good king young prince. I will help you find this werewolf if there indeed was one but I want something in return", she says.
"Treason", Jaxriel slams the table, "If you had something to do with the king's death then you should spill it. How dare you make demands to prove your innocence", his voice towers everything in the room.
Spit flies from his mouth as he speaks, a turban wrapped around his head, acting as a false crown.
Alaric waves his hand downward, giving signal to man.
"My prince, for the sake of fairness in the court I believe the werewolf has a right to prove her innocence. As for the matters of demand, that is entirely up to you", Lord Rowan speaks.
Alaric glances at Lord Rowan and back at Lady Sylvia who maintains her smile, "What is your demand?" "That no one accuses my clan, the werewolves of High Town, as rogue killers who feed on innocent. That is not us.
I want a decree on the matter so punishment may be taken upon those who insult my family's name.", she says.
Alaric's eyes widen at her request, "You say I am the most powerful werewolf in the kingdom and yet, I suffer scoundrelous acts and insults. Even here in this council amongst people who share the same authority as I.
But I understand it, at this level at least. But out there my people suffer, we are shunned from society. Terrors of Halfdan.
Young prince, I only want justice for my people. Or is that too much to ask in the name of my King?".
STONEFIELD, ROLANDIA.
Fast-paced, wind blows while vision becomes blurry under its speed. Pulling her into the whirlpool of cloud, defying gravity she flies, unlike a bird she moves as if propelled by something with a set destination.
Emilia finds herself standing in front of a big castle. Glorious bridges of maniacal creation link tall buildings together, the white walls almost glitter, reflecting the gifts of the sun's gaze.
Her eyes flicker as the gates of the castle open and her eyes come to hold the gaze of a woman. Eyes as red as blood and skin as pale as snow while her long black hair barely covers her pointy ears.
She is dressed in a long sleeve gown, covered in all black attires, symbol of a recent window.
The woman begins to walk toward the dark-elf, holding her gaze with great intensity. Before Emilia moves to avoid the suspecting calamity, the woman appears before her. With swift movement she grabs Emilia by the hair and the dark-elf burst into a scream of madness.
Kane wakes up, he looks at Emilia who is shaking, scared of something only found in dreams. Sweat trickles down her body like the rain found her. She looks asleep.
Lying on the comfy bed with nothing but her under garments, evidently comfortable with Kane being around. She clutches her body tightly, shivering, not for cold.
The tiny gem that has followed them through their journey, from the lands of the dark elves to Pyrrhus and now to Rolandia, suddenly appears.
It glows, bringing in winds of faint light that begins to gather in the room. The lights draw close and gather around Emilia who still lies with eyes shut.
She bites down on her lips and her nails dig into the side of her skin.
She begins to scream and suddenly the stream of light in the wind spins around with a force. Violent but subtle, "Emilia", he shakes her body but she remains locked in her whatever dream holds her.
"Emilia", he screams into her face as the wind blows roughly through his hair.
She wakes up, calming the violent winds while the gem slowly drops on top the bed. She breathes hard, "Are you okay?", Kane asks but she doesn't reply.
Her features break down and tears roll down her cheeks. Oblivious as he may be, he draws close to her and embraces her.
They hold each other for a while in the silence of the room, leaving only her sniffles to fill their ears, "Kane", she speaks.
"We must go to High Town", she says.