CHAPTER 85: YOU HAVE TO LET GO

The council room at Gravemont was always quiet at this hour, but tonight, it breathed tension.

The room was built like a cathedral of old power, with high stone walls and arcane symbols threaded through the architecture like veins. Long banners bearing the school’s crest hung in the still air.

A wide mahogany table dominated the centre, illuminated only by a chandelier filled with silver moon-oil. Its glow cast upon the table, and spread through half of the room.

The other side remained swallowed in darkness.

Not from lack of light but it was as if something was in that corner that drank it.

Commandant Draegor sat at the head of the table, fingers clasped. Across from him was Alpha Ashbourne. A map lay stretched between them, marked with red pins indicating attacks, disappearances and warnings. Lots of them.

"...and now there’s word from our border scouts," Draegor was saying, his voice low, "The Syndicate we’ve been observing has shifted. Their movements all point to one goal,"

Ashbourne’s eyes narrowed. It was clear he did not like where this was going.

"And that goal," Draegor continued, his fingers tapping once on the map, "is your son,"

A sharp silence fell in the room. Then, Ashbourne rumbled out, "William," It was too controlled, "Why him?"

"To break you," Draegor’s tone was iron, "A war between North and West is inevitable if they succeed. They need you enraged. They need your declaration. And killing your heir..."

"...would be enough," Ashbourne finished, his jaw flexing hard.

He didn’t roar. He didn’t rage. But the air changed, as if it were afraid.

Yet neither man noticed the third presence.

In the dark beyond the light where the shadows were too heavy, Sylas sat there with his legs crossed, blue eyes glinting faintly. Not even his heartbeat betrayed him, and there wasn’t even a stir of his scent in the air.

He heard everything.

They didn’t know.

They never knew.

Ashbourne’s eyes darkened slightly. He had so many questions.

But before he could speak, the rushed footsteps approaching the building snapped every head toward the door.

The door was thrown open, and a patrol guard stumbled inside. He was panting, and his eyes were wide with fear. He bowed so low his palms nearly touched the floor.

"Commandant, Alpha, forgive the intrusion but—" He swallowed hard, "There’s been a discovery. Ravenspire path,"

The way both leaders stiffened told enough. Ravenspire meant only one thing: Death.

"Speak," Draegor ordered.

The guard trembled, "Four bodies were found moments ago,"

Draegor rose from his seat, and Ashbourne’s claws slid out of his nails on instinct.

"Identities," The Commandant snapped.

"The first two... were near-skeletal and drained. And the other two...," His breath was shaky, and his eyes slid to Alpha Ashbourne as though he would attack him with his next words, "One is barely alive, and he’s already been rushed to the clinic. It’s... William Sinclair,"

Ashbourne’s eyes instantly turned blood red, and he had the guard dangling on his feet the next second, "What?!" He growled so powerfully that the walls shook.

The guard struggled to breathe, staring down at the eyes of what looked like death, "W...we just found him...we don’t know...,"

"And the fourth?" Draegor asked like the guard wasn’t a minute away from dying.

The guard closed his eyes, still struggling to breathe, "First-year, Thaddeus Douglas. He has been confirmed to be dead, sir,"

Silence landed in the room, and the tension it came with threatened to crack the glass windows, or rather, just explode them right there.

But that amount of tension wasn’t coming from the Commandant or the Alpha.

It came from the dark corner.

There was a subtle shift as though all the shadows were recoiling, forcing all eyes to snap towards it.

Then, a figure emerged.

Sylas stepped into the silver light, his expression carved from rage and his eyes glacial and burning all at once. The moment he walked into the light, all the warmth in the room was snatched, replaced with cold.

He said nothing. He simply moved.

Draegor stared, thrown off balance, "Professor Sylas?"

Ashbourne’s grip loosened on the guard as he also stared. How long had he been here?

How much had he heard?

Sylas didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

He stormed past them in a streak of movement, his coat sweeping like wings and power crackling off him so hard that the lights flickered.

The moment he was out of the building, he turned into an actual blur of darkness and in the blink of an eye, he was standing by the Ravenspire path.

Two other guards were present, their eyes curling with fear the moment he approached them. They were already carrying the drained figures of what were once wolves - but that wasn’t what he was here for.

He walked closer to the sight that caught his attention, stopping right in front of it.

"Pendragon," He murmured, his voice trembling slightly.

Zeke was sitting on the floor, his eyes melted with fear and horror and his body trembling like a wet cat. He had Theo in his arms wrapped so tightly there was no chance of him letting go, with her cheeks resting on his shoulders.

She was cold and pale.

So was he. His lips were stained with blood.

Sylas’s eyes glanced around, and he caught the smell of blood coming from the corner.

He didn’t do anything. Reading the environment was enough for him.

Instead, something in him twitched even more. Maybe he just refused to believe what he was seeing, or it was taking a longer time to process it.

But it was all awfully clear.

Gently, he bent over and looked directly into Zeke’s eyes and said as softly as he could muster, making sure his voice didn’t shake this time, "Let him go, Zeke,"

Zeke remained still.

Sylas tried again, "I know you’re trying to transfer your body warmth to him, but that’s only making your condition worse. You have to let go..." His next words made his lips quiver, "He’s... already gone,"

******************

Your Support is my Motivation!

Thank you so much for reading, engaging and Gifting!