"Glowing hands, taming the beast—what transpired last night while I was unconscious?" Viktor's query hung in the air, a blend of confusion and agitation etched across his features. The breakfast table, once abuzz with morning chatter, fell into a hushed stillness as Marcus flippantly divulged last night's perplexing events.
The room, bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the windows, held its breath for a moment. Isabella, breaking the heavy silence, cautiously voiced, "Yes Viktor, something inexplicable happened last night. In the darkest hour, when all seemed lost, Ethan came and subdued the beast."
Marcus interjected, his words carrying a hint of both amazement and suspicion. "He did more than tame it; his hands were aglow—a spectacle that bordered on sorcery," his tone subtly accusatory, as if attempting to cast a shadow of doubt over Ethan's actions. A ripple of irritation coursed through Celeste, and she sharply admonished, "Shut up, Marcus. And face your food," to which Marcus reacted with an infuriating smirk.
Viktor's gaze, stern and determined, bore into Ethan, a penetrating scrutiny that sought answers beneath the surface. "So, you're a beast tamer, huh? A sorcerer? A projector" The accusation hung in the air like an ominous cloud, heavy with implications. Isabella, protective yet defiant, interjected, "My son is not a sorcerer." In response, anger contorted Viktor's features, and his words sliced through the air like a blade. "Quiet, woman! Don't interrupt me." Isabella is visibly shaken by Viktor's outburst, decides to adhere to his command.
Ethan, seemingly unperturbed, remained calm amidst the rising tension, his focus unyielding as if his breakfast held the secrets to a well sought after holy grail. Viktor's relentless interrogation persisted, the gravity of his words echoed in the room. "You do know what they do to sorcerers in Blackwood?" Viktor's voice, laden with both warning and concern, paused, locking eyes with Ethan. In that moment, the outside world seemed to fade, leaving only the charged atmosphere between father and son. "Their hands are cut off to prevent harm to God's people. I will get to the bottom of this," he declared with unwavering resolve.
The weight of Viktor's proclamation lingered, casting a shadow over the breakfast table. Ethan's gaze, once fixed on the mundane meal, now met his father's with a silent determination. The impending confrontation hung in the air like a storm about to break.
"First, I must tend to the creature in our backyard," Viktor declared, his attention momentarily diverted. The gravity of the situation settled, and an air of foreboding anticipation clung to the room. "After that, we will address this matter," Viktor continued, his voice resonating with authority, "and I will know exactly what you are." His gaze shifts to Marcus's direction as he went on to say, "And by the way, I don't want to hear a word of this outside, this is a family affair, you hear me."
Amidst the serene ambiance of their clandestine sanctuary, a cabin nestled on the outskirts of town, Gabriel stood with quiet anticipation, his eyes fixed on the entrance. The cabin, a discreet haven at the periphery of Blackwood, belonged to a friend who seldom used it. Gabriel, hopeful but with a touch of longing, visited weekly to maintain the space, fueled by the possibility of a secret rendezvous with Isabella – a hope that didn't materialize as frequently as his heart desired.
As the anticipation hung in the air like a whispered promise, Isabella's knock reverberated through the wooden door. She entered without waiting for the customary invitation, and at the sight of her, Gabriel's eyes ignited with an unmistakable sparkle. A genuine smile replaced the anxious lines on his face. Isabella, dressed more for urgency than allure, carried an air of concern.
Gabriel's warm voice enveloped the cabin, resonating with affection, "My love! You made it."
Her response, laced with both care and curiosity, echoed in the space, "Do I have a choice? You had me worried. What is so urgent that you couldn't wait for me to meet you at the shop?"
As Gabriel began to unravel the urgency that had brought this urgent meeting, his words hung in the air like delicate threads of revelation. "Our son needs to be rescued from Blackwood," he disclosed, his gaze fixed on Isabella's face. He sensed the turmoil of unspoken thoughts within her, yet he pressed on, "He can't transform here; he's too young to control his powers."
Isabella began, her words hung in the air like a spell woven with wonder. "Our son did something strange and magical last night. Can werewolves tame and control other werewolves once they've transformed?" Gabriel's face twisted with perplexity as he responded, "No, Isabella, werewolves don't possess that kind of power." "Well, your son does," she declared. Shock etched itself across Gabriel's features. "That's not possible," he retorted.
"It is, honey. A werewolf he saved from Viktor's clutches at the outskirts of Blackwood Forest yesterday and brought home transformed in the night, went berserk, nearly killed Viktor. But out of nowhere, Ethan comes out, walks towards the beast, and touches its face. A bright light emanated from this touch, and the werewolf became human again. It was an amazing sight,eerie, but amazing" Isabella recounted, the tale carrying the weight of the extraordinary.
Gabriel, still grappling with the incredulity of Isabella's words, recognized this revelation as confirmation that Ethan was indeed the Alpha King. He urged Isabella, "This is more reason why we need to get him out of here." Inquisitive, she questioned, "But where?" Gabriel with a secret sanctuary in mind, responded with confidence, "I know a place where Ethan can be safe. Have you heard of a place called Coleridge?" Isabella confessed, "I have not heard of such a place before." With conviction, Gabriel assured her, "I promise you, it's a wonderful place." Sensing her curiosity, he added, "Would you like to come?" Her reply carried a blend of longing and hesitation, "No, I would love to, but no. My whole life is here. I can't imagine leaving Blackwood, but I will help you with getting Ethan out of here."
A fleeting frown crossed Gabriel's face, acknowledging the difficulty of convincing her to abandon everything and embark on a journey to an unknown land. In a sudden realization, he focused on something Isabella mentioned about a particular werewolf. "The werewolf you talked about, do you know its name?" Isabella responded, "Yes, it's a he, and his name is Taran, at least that's what Ethan calls him." Instantly, sadness clouded Gabriel's features, the weight of guilt settling upon him. It was his fault Taran found himself entangled in the cruel web that is Blackwood.