GERALD'S POV
The knock echoed through the stillness of the night, like a distant, unseen thunderclap, its sound breaking through the veil of slumber, of peace.
My eyes snapped open, my body tensing, as I rose from my bed. I moved my feet swiftly, but silently, across the chamber's hard, wooden floor.
"Who is there?" I growled, my voice a low, dangerous rumble, my hands reaching for the hilt of my sword. With a fixed gaze and alertness, I approached the door.
I stood before the door, my whole body coiled with tension and my muscles taut with anticipation as I hardened my eyes.
"Who dares to disturb the sleep of the Alpha?" I growled in a low, frightening whisper and placed my hand on the door's latch, my fingers coiled around the cold, metallic surface.
"Speak! "I commanded, my words filled with a deadly, razor-sharp edge, my gaze sweeping over the door, over the walls. I was ready to strike, to defend, against any threat that dared to challenge me.
A hoarse shivering voice sounded against the room, a rough tone, owned by one of my guards.
"It is Ethan, the herbalist, Master Gerald," the guard said, his voice a quiet, respectful whisper, his eyes averted from my face as if to shield himself from my wrath.
"He requests your presence," he continued his words, a hesitant plea, a whisper of urgency that seemed to pierce the silence of the night.
My expression remained unchanged, my eyes hard, impassive, as I considered the guard's words, the request of the herbalist.
"Very well," I replied to him, my words a dark, ominous promise, as I stepped past the guard, my feet moving swiftly, silently, through the darkness of the night.
I moved with silent grace, my movements an analysis of frugality and accuracy, as I approached my wardrobe, my hands deftly working the latch, the door swinging open with a soft, subtle creak.
I reached inside, my fingers brushing against the fine, silken fabrics that adorned the inner view of my wardrobe, as I selected a tunic of midnight blue, the color a stark contrast to the ivory of my skin, and the dark ink of my tattoos.
With a single, efficient motion, I pulled the tunic over my head, the fabric falling smoothly over my hill-toned body, the coolness of the fabric against my skin, a soothing balm in the darkness of the night.
My hair, long and black, fell against my shoulders, the strands shining in the moonlight that filtered through my window. I secured the tunic with a thick, leather belt, the weight of my sword at my side a reassuring presence.
The sword was more than just a weapon in my hands. It was a trace of my past, a remnant of a time long gone, of a life that had been stolen from me.
As my fingers brushed against the hilt, the memories came flooding back, a vision of a dying man, his eyes filled with fear and regret, as he thrust the sword into my hands, his voice a hoarse whisper, a plea for survival.
"Take it, my son," the man had said to me, his voice cracking, his words a fading echo in my mind.
"Run, and do not look back."
I did as he instructed me, my heart heavy with loss, my mind filled with rage, as I fled into the night, the sword in my hands a silent reminder of the life that was taken from me.
The memory lingered, a shadow on my soul, as I stared at the sword, the metal shimmering in the moonlight, the engravings on its hilt a story, a history, of a past long buried.
With a deep, steadying breath, I banished the memories back to the recesses of my mind, my gaze clearing, my focus returning to the present, the urgency of the moment.
My mind flashed back to Ethan's summon, the thought weighing heavily on me, a seed of curiosity and worry sprouting in my mind.
"What news could he have that requires such secrecy and urgency?" I wondered, as I stepped out of the room, the shadows of the night embracing me being my companion and my protector as it led my path.
My footsteps were a steady, measured rhythm, a rhythm that reverberated through the empty hallways, the sound of my approach a herald of my coming.
The shadows danced around me, flickering in the light of the flickering torches that lined the walls, casting a halo of golden light around me, a mantle of power, of command.
I moved with the confidence of an Alpha, a leader, my gaze sweeping over the walls, the statues that stood sentinel in the darkness, my senses alert, attuned to the slightest hint of danger, of threat.
My steps faltered, my eyes narrowing as I caught a glimpse of movement, a flicker of shadow that danced across my vision, a flash of fur and movement.
I became very sensitive, my heart racing, as I spun on my heel. With my hand, I gripped the hilt of my sword, turning my gaze to search the encroaching darkness for any hint of danger or attack.
"What was that?" I whispered to myself, my voice low and dangerous, as I surveyed the shadows, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement, any indication of what had passed me by.
With a deep, steadying breath, I shook off the feeling of dread, of danger, that had lingered in the pit of my stomach, my footsteps resuming their steady, measured rhythm.
I blamed my mind, my tiredness, and the stress of the night. I continued my journey, distracting my thoughts with the herbalist's summons, with the questions that burned in my mind like a fire that would not be quenched.
A strange disturbing sound made my step slow, my body still, as I cocked my head, my ears straining to hear the strange, almost unseeable noise that echoed through the silence of the night, the walls of the mansion.
It was a low, gruff sound, a series of clicks and growls, that seemed to originate from the shadows, from the darkness beyond the flickering light of the torches.
I held the hilt of my sword, my body tensed, ready for battle, as I moved towards the direction of the sound, my footsteps silent, my heart pounding in my chest.
The silence that had descended upon the hallway was broken once again by the strange, guttural sound, the clicks and growls echoing through the darkness, a haunting melody that seemed to dance through the shadows.
I paused, my eyes sweeping the darkness, my senses alert, my body tensed with anticipation. My grip on my sword became white-knuckled, as I searched for the source of the sound.
"Show yourself," I growled, my voice a low, dangerous rumble, as I moved deeper into the shadows, my feet silent, my footsteps echoing through the emptiness of the hall.
My steps were slow and steady as I made my way deeper into the shadows. My eyes scanned the walls, the corners, and the flickering torchlight that seemed to cast a veil of mystery over the hallway, the silence was broken only by the sound of my heavy breath and the beating of my heart.
My gaze was sharp, and my senses heightened, as I moved through the darkness, my footsteps a whisper, a ghost in the night, my body tensed, prepared for whatever may come.
In the stillness of the hallway, my instincts flared, and my awareness intensified to an almost supernatural level, as I sensed the presence of another in the darkness.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, my breath caught in my throat, as I moved silently through the shadows, my footsteps soundless, my body a blur of motion, a predator in the night.
My insights were on an increased alert and my body was a coiled spring of tension. I approached the source of the presence, my sword held at the ready, my mind focused, my gaze piercing the darkness like a spear.
My breathing was slow, and controlled, as I reached a junction in the hallway, my instincts warning me of danger, of the unknown, as the presence seemed to grow stronger, more tangible.
I calculated and measured my steps, as I moved deeper into the shadows, the presence trailing behind me, a ghostly echo of my footsteps, the darkness seeming to swallow him whole as if the very night had become his enemy.
My eyes darted left and right, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement, my breath slow, steady, as I played the part of the unaware, the unwary, my senses straining to detect any hint of danger, any clue as to the identity of my unseen stalker.
I tightened my fingers around the hilt of my sword, my mind sharp, my body ready. I continued to move through the shadows, my heart pounding in my chest, my steps sure and steady.
The presence was close now, its footsteps a mirror of mine. A distorted echo of my movements, as if it were a shadow, a specter, that trailed in my wake.
I tensed, my muscles coiling, as I spun around, my eyes blazing with defiance, my sword drawn, my voice a low, dangerous whisper.