Chapter Text
The sorceress stepped through the iron doors of the armory. With a clap of her hands, the unlit torches mounted on the walls sprang to life and chased away the darkness. Blue flames illuminated the room, revealing a vast collection hailing from a bygone era.
The walls were lined with numerous suits of armor in different sizes, all remarkably well preserved throughout the ages. Rox felt a surge of pride, seeing that her flawless creations retained their pristine condition after all this time. They didn’t even look like they had aged a day.
Standing opposite the armor row, large racks held an assortment of weapons. Swords of varying lengths hung side by side on the walls. Barrels overflowed with spears and axes, both single and double-headed. Their metallic surfaces gleamed faintly in the blue light.
At the far end of the room was her workstation, battered and timeworn, a poignant reminder of her long absence. It was as old, if not older than her. Uncountable years had passed, yet the heart of her craft remained.
On a stone counter, she could still see the familiar, faint marks and scrapes of where she had once struck her hammer in her meltdowns. Back when she was a much younger, short-tempered wolf, prone to explosive outbursts when she failed to meet her exacting standards. For hours on end, she locked herself in her workshop and strived to make such flawless, intricate crafts. To make her visions of perfection become a reality.
She ran a hand down the disused, stone-cold forge. Thankfully, she could easily repair it with her magic. Next to it was an anvil, sitting atop a sturdy stump, and a bellows mounted on a wooden base.
Various tools, many of which were littered with dust and cobwebs, hung on wall-mounted metal hooks. Some materials were neatly arranged on her wooden workbench and rack, while others were left haphazardly on the counters and the stone floor. No doubt, the untidiness in her workshop was due to the dojo being transported, thanks to Ras’s master. She was always one to maintain her belongings in an organized, systematic manner.
Large, galvanized steel buckets that once held water and cooled searing hot metal parts took up plentiful amounts of space on the floor. To her left was a stone counter with some rolled-up scrolls containing blueprints and notes of her crafts. Some listed different weapon ideas and fantastical designs, while others had simple, frivolous sketches. She unraveled a few scrolls and began to read one, where she once had the idea of imbuing dark energy into weapons and shields. However, due to her limited comprehension of its power and limits, she abandoned the project.
One scroll depicted rings, necklaces, and many other jewelries. Rox always held a distaste for fashion and refused to embellish herself with such prissy things. Rarely would she ever create such opulent accessories unless it served as a way for her to weave deception. Such times were whenever she bribed and showered gifts as rewards to the allies of the Five in return for their aid. But of course, it was never out of the goodness in her heart, for she had none left in her. Instead, she viewed it as a way to motivate their loyalty towards the Five and fuel their lust for more. Fear, though her preferred method, was not the only way she knew how to control others.
Returning to her workshop after all this time brought about an unfamiliar wave of nostalgia. It was here, within these stone walls, where she dedicated her time and energy to crafting copious instruments of war. To her, it wasn’t mere labor but something more akin to a passionate hobby. She could still hear the rhythmic echo of her hammer clanging against steel, a familiar sound that always accompanied the armory.
Before, the room would be filled with the familiar smell of burning coal. The intense heat radiating from the forge fires was a welcoming comfort to her on the cold nights. The soreness in her arms from carrying heavy metals and hammering away for hours always reminded her of the hard effort she put into her handiwork.
On the nights when sleep eluded her and she tossed and turned in her bed for hours, she snuck back to her workstation and occupied herself on unfinished projects or new creations. It was either there or one of the training rooms, specifically designed for practicing magic. The nocturnal hours took a toll on her. Often, she succumbed to exhaustion and rested her head on her anvil. Sometimes she dozed off for a few seconds or napped for hours in her workshop.
A small smile formed on her lips, recollecting the times when her siblings scolded her for waking them up in the middle of the night. The loud banging of her hammer against the metals echoed through the halls, and the acrid smell would interrupt their peaceful sleep. They always lambasted her for disturbing their rest and repeatedly reminded her to close the doors to keep the raucous and bitter smells out. Though she said she would remember to do so many a time, it slipped her mind while lost in her creative fervor, much to their irritation.
Rox held a chisel in her hands and took a moment to admire the tool. It served her well when she perfectly carved the symbols on the wolf masks. She missed utilizing her skills to make such beautiful creations as she once did so long ago in the golden age of the Five.
Rox then trailed a finger across the dull blade of a broadsword with a dragonhide hilt. Some of her personal favorite makings were those that she crafted with materials harvested from the very dragons she had slain, trophies of the fallen beasts, and vain reminders of her unchallenged power. But she didn’t come here for a weapon. Not like she needed one.
She unclasped her shoulder guard and set it aside on a nearby counter with a soft clink. Then, she removed her cuirass. Leaning down, she unstrapped her cuisses and greaves before walking over to the row of armor.
After donning a few suits, each feeling bulky and ill-fitting, she finally chose one that suited her form.
Her vessel was now adorned in dark grey armor with streaks of crimson that resembled dried blood and a pauldron with a blue claw covering one of her shoulders. Aesthetically and functionally, it was more to her liking. Compared to the light armor she wore previously, this one offered her much more protection. Plus, she preferred its design and color scheme. It was a veiled reflection of her true self. The grey matched her cold, constructed composure, which she wore as a mask to conceal her true nature, like rain clouds forming before a coming storm. The crimson markings, a symbol of her violent nature, and the path she always forged in blood; a promise of what was to come. Mere spars and fights with her siblings never satisfied her enough. She needed to spill blood and finally feel the rush of adrenaline in her veins after so long. Soon, she would have her fill.
Rox walked around, accustoming herself to the weight and feel of her new attire. It felt just right on her. Not too tight to restrict her movements and not too loose to be a hindrance in combat. Before she left the armory, she grabbed a pair of red gauntlets and fastened them on.
Sporting the armor with vanity, she headed to the training room with hands clasped demurely behind her back and a serene smile gracing her lips.
Upon entering, she saw Ras holding a rectangular device to his ear. For what purpose, she did not know. He was talking aloud for some inexplicable reason, almost as if he were addressing someone. But no one else was in the room except the two of them. She now began to wonder if the tiger was talking to himself.
Her jaw tightened, and her fists clenched, the red gauntlets digging into her palms. She shot daggers at Ras for the injustice he inflicted on her brother. From the moment she arrived in the room, she could have easily killed the unsuspecting tiger at least three times over and not even break a sweat. But she couldn’t. Not yet at least.
“Master,” she smoothly addressed, her voice dripping with false deference. She bowed shallowly before him, a gesture of mock respect, all the while laughing inwardly.
The only thing you’re a master of is being a servant, you asinine tiger. You think we’re pawns in your game, but you’ve got it all backwards!
Ras, abruptly wrenched from his conversation, turned towards her with a deep frown, and his red eyes flickered with annoyance. “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” he huffed before turning away and resuming his call at the other end of the line.
Rox furrowed her brows in confusion before shrugging to herself and keeping quiet. She began to buzz with curiosity and eyed the phone with interest. What was Ras even doing, talking to this strange contraption, she wondered.
Was this some new form of magic? An arcane artifact capable of communicating with other beings? Spirits from the afterlife, perhaps?
After a minute of listening, Rox realized that this device was allowing the tiger to talk to someone. She caught snippets of his conversation, including an individual named Blekt and something about not sending invitations to ‘them’.
Back in her time, people sent up smoke signals from mountaintops and relied on trained birds to deliver messages. Now, people can talk to someone else from miles away through the usage of this thing called a phone. This would certainly take some time to get used to. The world has changed so much in her absence. But no matter how much time passed, the nature of all living beings remained the same. Everyone and everything was still weak and inferior compared to her and the Five.
“I don’t care how you do it, Blekt. Just honor your agreement, and I will honor mine,” Ras said, then hung up the phone and turned his attention towards Rox.
“What is it, Jordana?” he asked with subtle irritation.
Rox hung her head, and her thin smile turned into a guilty grimace. She looked up at Ras, avoiding his gaze, and began to fidget with her gloves.
“I… I just—” she stammered.
“Speak!” Ras bellowed.
Rox shrank away with a whimper and swallowed. “I— I feel I should apologize for my failure to keep the gate open,” she trembled out.
Ras approached Rox, his towering form looming over her.
“You should be sorry, you fool! The plan was to free all the Forbidden Five, not one!” he angrily berated.
Rox flinched back and dropped her head again. Her eyes began to water, blurring her vision. She blinked rapidly, then met the tiger’s scorching gaze, her expression a carefully crafted mixture of sadness and contrition. “Please, forgive me. I did everything within my power to free them,” she tremulously choked out with a brittle voice. Just to add a cherry on top, she let a few fake tears fall down her face, painting the perfect picture of a devoted servant who failed to appease her master.
“I will forgive you this one time, but no more after that,” Ras growled, his voice rumbling with frustration and disappointment. “Perhaps you can still redeem yourself for your failure. I may have a use for you.”
Rox’s lips twitched upwards slightly. She was dealing with a brutish simpleton, a creature whose strength only lay in his physicality. His intellect, however, was quite unimpressive. She recognized that he couldn’t possibly conceive of betrayal, only failure; a weakness she would exploit to her heart’s content. He was so predictable, making it child’s play for her to sneak under his skin.
Rox wiped away the crocodile tears with her sleeve before asking in a steadier voice, “Who were you talking to just a moment ago?”
“The uncle of the games master,” Ras answered. “With his help, the ninja won’t be able to interfere with the next phase of the plan.”
“And how do you intend to do that?” she pressed, eager to glean every detail of his schemes.
“Let’s just say that their invitations to the tournament will be misplaced. Permanently.”
Rox let out a short, light chuckle. “Do you really think that’s going to stop them from trying to participate?”
“No. I already took that into account. Thanks to you, we don’t have enough Shatterspin warriors for the tournament, which is why I’m going to recruit more elemental masters on our side. This way, our victory will be ensured.”
This may present an opportunity for us…
Rox tilted her head, and her eyes flashed with interest. “Once again, I apologize for my failure, master. When are you leaving?”
“Tonight,” he answered. “Depending on how long this takes, I may be gone for a few days. Perhaps more.”
A smirk curled up on her lips. This was it. They would strike while the iron was hot.
“While I’m gone, I need you to keep watch over Nokt. I can’t have him roaming around freely. He must remain here, no matter what.”
My, oh my, this is just too perfect!
Rox dropped to her knees and bowed deeply before the tiger, her forehead pressing against the stone floor. Hidden from the tiger’s piercing gaze, a devious smirk formed on her lips.
“Oh, I would be gladly honored to do this for you, Lord Ras,” she purred with feigned subservience. “Rest assured; he won’t be going anywhere on my watch.”
“Good. Thank you, Jordana,” Ras said in a pleased tone.
Rox stood up from the ground. “Of course, master. Anything for you. But I’m just curious, why aren’t you entrusting this task to Cinder?”
“Because after today’s training session, it’s quite clear to me that they’re not going to get along anytime soon. And with you in his quarters earlier, it seems that he’s able to tolerate your presence.”
“Well, your judgement has always been considered sound to me. That, along with your teachings. Thanks to you, I’ve learned so much. I truly couldn’t ask for a better master than you,” she fawned with a saccharine smile.
Ras let out a satisfied hum. For a moment, Rox thought she saw a small smile form on his lips, a fleeting glimpse of the ego she had just stoked. “And I couldn’t have asked for a more faithful servant.”
Rox gave him a swift bow before she turned on her heel and left the training room. As she walked away, a malicious grin grew on her face.
Soon… Very soon, you will see just how faithful I am when we crush the life out of you!
Fortune continued to smile upon them. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought that her and Nokt had the devil’s luck, neither of which she believed in. Either that, or someone was watching over them. But Rox was a pragmatist, not a believer of any sort in divine beings or interventions. They were not given a blessing by the Source Dragons, that was a certainty.
Everyone always depicted them as immortal and invincible beings, but that couldn’t be any further from the truth. Where were the Source Dragons when the Five ruled over the Wyldness with an iron fist? Where were they when the cowardly, mewling denizens fled, when their beautiful cities were sieged, and their lands were laid to waste? Nowhere. Abandoning the mortals as usual. In their time of need, they turned to the Source Dragons, hoping that they brought salvation. But of course, they never came, leaving the mortals to their doom. In Rox’s eyes, they were false gods. The only thing that came close to being a deity of sorts to her was the primeval of chaos of the first age. As a cub, she was enthralled by the legends and stories of the mighty dragon’s glorious wars, achievements, and aspirations.
In their times of tribulation and misery, when the Five were gripped by the chilling specter of perpetual purgatory and the doubts of their freedom never coming to pass, they turned to the verses of the dark one’s majesty. They intoned the odes of his ascent to power, recounted the songs and ballads of his glorious chaotic dominion, and proclaimed his hallowed names with fervent tongues. With each recitation, their courage was fortified, their sinews steeled, their strength empowered, and their faith restored. To this day, they all still remembered every lyric, every mantra, every sacred utterance, every word by heart.
Rox ambled along the drawn-out corridors, effortlessly navigating through the dojo. She had an intimate knowledge of the building’s structure, familiar with where each hallway, passage, doorway, and corner led to. Each fleeting moment marked the drawing nigh of the Five’s deliverance, and by their unending devotion, the gate shall soon be opened. Anticipation swelled within her, a tide, threatening to breach her dam of composure. She couldn’t help but let a mild smile hang loosely on her lips. An old, eerie tune began to echo through the long corridors, one that spoke of an ancient time and a dark, forgotten power. The haunting notes sent shivers up the spines of the wolf warriors that she passed. Upon recognizing the unsettling Theroxian ballad, their furs bristled. Some stepped aside, making plenty of space for her to pass by.
As Rox continued to softly recite the melody, she envisioned vile fantasies of the brutal methods the Five would use to end Ras. Since Nokt hated him the most, it would be fitting for him to deliver the coup de grâce. Perhaps her brother would beat Ras to a pulp with such brute force behind his punches, leaving him a broken, unrecognizable mess. Or maybe Kur could give the tiger an agonizingly slow death, where he felt the life slowly leave him until there was nothing left but darkness. Rox always took great pleasure in watching Kur drain the life out of her victims like she was extracting water out of cacti.
With a wicked smile, even more delightful thoughts entered her mind. She pictured Drix’s swarms of insects stinging and biting the tiger mercilessly and eating him alive. A boisterous laugh, full of cruel glee, escaped from her and echoed down the hall. Now, that would be a sight to behold. She marveled at the thought of Zarkt, wielding a blunt instrument with such ferocity to pulverize the beast before grinding the bones to dust with his boots.
With the Five reunited, they shall bring the treacherous tiger to his knees and cast his blunt hammer into the smelter. When the beast grovels in the grandeur of the Five and begs for his life, the siblings will laugh with macabre enjoyment as they mock his cries for mercy and ravage the warrior’s burly body. For his foul deeds, the Five will reward him with equal generosity. After taking turns impaling Ras’s filthy corpse and feasting on his flesh, they shall hang his bones and fur up on the walls as trophies of their triumph.
Even in her moment of rejoice, Rox seethed, devising her retribution against the accursed wretch who installed the infernal device of torment on her brother. For her own personal satisfaction, she imagined delivering such excruciating pain on Ras as he did on her brother. A fitting punishment that the tiger deserved no less. Sentenced to a fate of torment with no release, he would scream for years and writhe in perpetual agony until he begged her for death. Locked in the dungeons with no hope of escape and no sweet release from the pain, his penance for his crimes will be unending till death arrives. But the pain will not be enough to satisfy her, for she always craved the sweetness of fear. She shall instill in him such terror that the very sight of her makes him cower and tremble before her and drink the wine of his delicious fear, savoring it to the last drop.
But no matter what fate the Five sentenced him to, it would not be pleasant.
Rox made her way outside of the dojo. She stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Upon feeling the warm rays of the sun on her face, a shuddered breath escaped her. In their prison, light was always absent, and there was only darkness. After an eternity of bleakness and coldness, she welcomed the sunlight that shone on her.
The distant sun was low in the sky, partially hidden behind a few clouds. She admired the bright blue sky and the white clouds. Some of them were thick, while others were wispy. The higher altitude clouds traveled fast through the sky, while the lower ones were calmer, slower moving. It felt so foreign yet distantly familiar to look up and see the sky instead of the monotone grey.
She cast her gaze down to the vast grasslands in front of the dojo and watched how the tall, thick blades gently swayed in the wind. The rippling motion was reminiscent of ocean waves. It wasn’t the grey, dull, geometric ground that she was so used to seeing all the time. Here, there was color, warmth, and life.
Rox tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and sighed contentedly, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the cool, gentle breeze kissing her skin. For the first time in endless years, she felt a sense of serenity. She could just stand here for hours, basking in the sun’s embrace. This was what she missed. What she longed for in the darkness of the void. To finally feel that life return to her.
Then, a familiar voice pulled her out of her pleasant daze. “I thought you’d be here sooner.” She turned around to see her brother, resting against the golden gong of shattering. “What took you so long, sister?”
“Oh, I was doing a little of this, a little of that. Admiring my creations. Gaining insight from a certain someone,” Rox said, waggling her eyebrows, flashing her teeth in a juvenile grin.
Nokt nodded his head in understanding and chuckled under his breath. “Ah, of course. I should have known! Sly as a fox, as usual!”
“That’s me! So, how do I look?” Rox asked before outstretching her arms.
Nokt studied the meticulously crafted battle armor, his eyes lingering on every detail and dancing with approval. “Prepared. It suits you,” he complimented.
Rox settled next to her brother and whispered in his ear, “Soon, we begin.”
“And Ras?”
“Leaving this evening to recruit more allies for the tournament,” she said wearily, before letting out a yawn.
“Then that’s when we’ll make our move,” Nokt said.
“Now, if only we had something to eat,” Rox slurred with a frown. This meatsuit continued to insistently demand nourishment. A heavy wave of lethargy hit her, and she rested her head on Nokt’s broad shoulder. With drowsy, watery eyes, she watched the tall grass dance in the wind.
“This feels strangely… nice,” Rox murmured, her voice thick with a mixture of confusion and genuine appreciation. The feeling of emptiness that had seeped into her very being while imprisoned in the void was no more. There was warmth now. For the first time in so long, she finally saw the world again. She felt alive, not through violence, pain, chaos, or death, but through a beautiful view and a rare moment of peace with her brother.
“I… I don’t understand this. I can’t explain it, brother, but somehow, I missed this. All of this,” she confessed, joining a hand with his.
Nokt gave a slow, deliberate nod, sharing the same experience as her. “I know. Me too,” he said, agreeing with her sentiment.
Then, a flicker of motion at the edge of their vision caught their attention. Both simultaneously turned their heads to the dense forests that bordered the open field. From the shadows emerged familiar, purple figures. Slung over their shoulders were a few deer and a handful of rabbits. The meager haul spoke volumes. This land seemed to offer little in the way of sustenance. It was a far cry from the teeming abundance they were used to in the Wyldness.
After returning to the dojo, the wolf warriors wasted no time in preparing the animals. Some were already gathering utensils, chopping up wood, and building a fire. With sharp knives and daggers, they carefully cut through skin and flesh before opening the abdominal cavities. Blood and innards spilled onto the earth, and pungent odors quickly permeated the air. Then, the wolves began to flay the carcasses.
The field dressing was a familiar sight that the siblings had performed many times before. They yearned to feel the thrill of hunting prey once more. Ages ago, when their hunger stirred, they hunted wild animals and even humanoid creatures, whether it be dawn or dusk.
Whenever they hunted, they refused to use magic, Shatterspin, and their elemental powers to earn a meal. It was too easy for them and not as enjoyable. They chose to hunt together like full-blooded wolves. To mask their own scent from their prey, they rolled themselves around in strong odors, much to the disgust of their fellow comrades.
First, the pair of wolves tracked their prey and used their keen senses of sound, smell, and eyesight to pinpoint where the animals were. Then, they stalked their prey and moved silently towards the animals, trying to get as close as possible.
Feral blue and orange eyes swirled with anticipation, watching and waiting patiently for their prey to make a mistake or show any signs of vulnerability. Sometimes, the two ambushed unsuspecting animals; a sudden, brutal strike from the shadows. Other times, they memorized the terrain and used it to their advantage. But often, they relentlessly pursued their prey for many miles until it became exhausted. Their tag-team approach always rewarded them. They never forgot the rush of exhilaration when they sank their teeth into warm flesh and acquired a well-earned meal to satisfy their hunger.
A wolf warrior approached the siblings and placed two steaming bowls before them, each containing chunks of tender venison smothered in a rich gravy. They held the bowls close to their weary faces and inhaled deeply, savoring the meaty aroma.
Nokt tossed aside the provided fork and devoured the meat with his hands. Rox followed suit and dug into her food with an equally ferocious appetite. The two ate like the wild animals they were, void of all civility. Eating with utensils was so painfully slow and utterly unappealing to them.
The earthy, rich taste of the venison exploded on their tongues. Adrift in their sea of need to fill their empty stomachs, the siblings tore at the meat with such ravenous hunger, abandoning all sense of decorum. After an eternity of deprivation, the simple experience of eating, the sheer life that surged back into their starved bodies with each bite – it was even more enjoyable than they could have ever imagined.
Then, they gave their jaws a break and wiped away the juices that trickled down their chins. As the gnawing pangs subsided, their sense of awareness returned. They now approached the food with mindful appreciation, taking smaller bites and more thoughtful chews. This was their first time eating something in eons, so the least they could do was try and enjoy it.
After consuming the last morsel, a sense of satisfaction settled within them. The hunger was no more. Thanks to their delicious meal, their weariness was now replaced with a newfound reinvigoration. They sat in quiet contentment, patiently waiting for the wolves to retire into the dojo.
Once the siblings were finally alone, a silent understanding passed between them. With a shared glance and a single, decisive nod, they descended the stone steps before melting into the shadows of the woodland.
The cool wind blew through the boscage, coaxing the trees into a languid dance. Their branches, gnarled and wise, bent and creaked in rhythm. Leaves rustled, murmuring secrets to the breeze, their gentle susurrus touching their ears. The air, redolent of nature, carried a familiar blend of smells they had long forgotten. They both inhaled deeply, taking in the earthy scent of the trees and the sharp, refreshing aromas of pine and cedar. The forest was their usual habitat, a wild haven where they always thrived. Here, they need not worry about being overheard by the encroachers of their home, for they were now cradled in the embrace of the trees.
“At some point, the clan is going to notice that we’ve been gone. They may start to suspect something,” Nokt said, a flicker of worry shadowing his usually stoic features.
“So, what if they do? It doesn’t matter. I’ll just make them believe what I want them to believe,” Rox assured with a grin, her voice a silky promise of deception.
Nokt chuckled dryly. “Even after long centuries, I see you still possess your silver tongue,” he recognized, his gaze filled with pride.
Though they both relied on overwhelming strength and pure power to defeat their foes, Rox always possessed a gift for persuasion and enchantment. It was a talent that Nokt always admired about her. The rest of the Forbidden Five usually let Rox carry out negotiations, deals, and threats in their conquests. Fists, claws, and blades were not the only weapons she could use. Words were also powerful agents that could easily be used to her advantage. She possessed the brutality of a wolf and the craftiness of a fox.
“Indeed, I do. Now, more than ever, it’s proven useful, especially with Ras. The fool trusted me to watch over you,” Rox said with amusement and a hint of contempt at the tiger.
“Oh, I believe it. He probably thinks you’re his most loyal pawn.”
“That, he does. He is quite a dull tool.”
The pair meandered through the woods in comfortable silence. Then, the trees thinned, and the sunlight intensified into a blinding glare, making them shield their eyes. The world opened before them, and they found themselves standing at the edge of a bluff. They leaned abreast against a thick tree and watched in peaceful solitude as the sun sank below the horizon. The light gradually faded away, casting long, dancing shadows across the sprawling valley far below them. The sky was painted in an explosion of colors, a canvas of fiery orange bleeding into soft purple hues with streaks of crimson and gold interwoven.
It was a breathtaking spectacle they hadn’t witnessed in lifetimes. The sheer splendor of the view stole their breath away. They sighed softly; the sunset and the vibrant colors evoked a sense of awe and profound gratitude in them. It made them wonder how many sunsets and sunrises the Five shared in the past, before their imprisonment. Did they ever take the time to simply appreciate the beauty of the world around them?
Though they tried to bury it, a pang of sadness resonated within their dark hearts. All the Five ever did was create wars and sow chaos, driven by their insatiable hunger for power, but rarely did they ever cherish the serene moments that the world so freely offered. The infinite, empty time that they had endured in the void paled in comparison to this one singular moment that they shared together. Their forced immortality in their accursed prison was a monotonous existence, devoid of meaning and purpose. It drove them to the brink of madness. But now, they were here in the living world with a newfound appreciation for all the simple things they had once undervalued. If only the rest of their siblings were here to share this beautiful moment and remember what it meant to truly be. To live. Perhaps, after their liberation, they could all share a sunset together before continuing with their conquest.
“I wish the others could see this,” Rox murmured wistfully, now already missing the rest of her siblings.
Nokt wrapped an arm around Rox’s shoulders and brought her closer to his side. “They will. We’re going to get them out, no matter what,” he promised with unwavering determination.
They watched as dusk approached and the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The air suddenly became cooler, and the breeze died down.
The calm that the two siblings shared was over. Now, the storm approached. They stood up and retraced their steps back to the meadows. After reaching the clearing, they looked back at the dojo to see Ras floating upwards and communicating with his master. Hidden in the shadows of the encroaching night, they watched patiently, until they saw him disappear in a sudden, bright flash of yellow and white.
The siblings exchanged a sharp, feral grin, and their eyes burned with predatory anticipation. With Ras gone and the rest of the clan in a blissful sleep of ignorance, no one would notice their absence. Now, it was time. They could finally commence their clandestine operation.
The two wolves began their hunt. Their silhouettes, visible against the fading sunlight, began to dissolve as they descended into the darkness.