With trembling hands, he managed to pull out a small vial of healing potion and a clean cloth. He uncorked the vial with his teeth and poured the potion over his wounds, wincing as the liquid sizzled against his skin. The pain was intense, but it was followed by a cooling sensation as the potion began to work its magic, slowly knitting his torn flesh back together.
Then he pulled out the letter and package, examining them in the dim moonlight. The letter was sealed with a wax crest—an intricate design he didn't recognize. The package was small and wrapped in plain brown paper, with no markings to indicate its contents.
"Fuck, what hell is it?" Alexander's curiosity gnawed at him, but he knew better than to open them.
After put then back, he wrapped the cloth around his arm to staunch the bleeding, then slumped back against the wall, his energy completely spent. His eyelids grew heavy, and he knew he couldn't fight sleep any longer.
Sleep came in fits and starts, haunted by dark dreams and the memory of the battle. Alexander saw the werewolf's glowing green eyes in his mind's eye, heard the snarls and growls of the pack echoing in his ears. And always, in the background, there was the faint whisper of the dark magic, a cold, insistent voice that urged him to embrace the power of the dark.
He tossed and turned on the cold stone floor, his mind unable to find peace. The darkness of the cabin seemed to press in on him, as if the shadows themselves were alive, watching him with unseen eyes. His dreams were filled with images of fire and blood, of wolves and the deep, inky blackness of the dark magic.
At some point, the whispers grew louder, more insistent. The ring on his finger throbbed with a pulse of energy, and he felt the dark power tugging at the edges of his consciousness, trying to pull him in. He fought against it, trying to push the darkness away, but it was like trying to hold back the tide.
"Use it," the voice whispered, cold and seductive. "Embrace the power, the blood. It's yours. It always has been."
"No," Alexander muttered in his sleep, his brow furrowing in distress. "I can't…"
But the voice persisted, winding its way through his thoughts like a serpent. "You've already tasted it. You've seen what it can do. Why fight it? Let the power flow through you. It will make you stronger. It will make you unstoppable."
Alexander's body tensed, his fists clenching as he struggled against the pull of the dark magic. He could feel it eating away at him, trying to claim his soul.
With a supreme effort of will, he pushed the voice away, forcing the darkness back into the depths of his mind.
When Alexander finally awoke, the first light of dawn was filtering through the gaps in the cabin's crumbling walls. The air was cool and crisp, and the forest outside was bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun. He felt groggy and disoriented, but the pain in his arm had dulled to a manageable ache, thanks to the healing potion.
He pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as his stiff muscles protested. His body was bruised and battered, but he was alive. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, and he instinctively reached for the magic ring on his finger. He couldn't afford to linger in the woods, not with the werewolf still out there, nursing his wounds and likely plotting his revenge.
He forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He grabbed his satchel and slung it over his shoulder, then took a deep breath and stepped out of the cabin.
The forest was peaceful in the early morning light, the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of pine and earth filling the air. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, this same forest had been the site of a vicious battle.
Alexander followed the narrow path through the forest, his steps slow and cautious. He kept his senses alert, listening for any sign of movement, any hint that the werewolves might still be hunting him. But the forest remained quiet, and as the sun climbed higher in the sky, his unease began to fade.
He walked for hours, the terrain gradually changing from dense woods to rolling hills. The path wound its way through fields and meadows, the tall grasses swaying in the breeze. In the distance, he could see the spires and rooftops of Blackstone, the city perched on the edge of a steep cliff overlooking the ocean.
The sight of the city filled Alexander with a renewed sense of purpose. He was almost there. Just a little farther, and he would be safe within the city's walls. He quickened his pace, eager to reach his destination and put the events of the previous night behind him.
The city gates loomed before him, the massive iron doors flanked by stone towers. Guards stood at attention, their eyes scanning the road for any sign of trouble.
Alexander walked through the massive iron gates of Blackstone City, the city's towering stone walls loomed overhead, casting long shadows that stretched across the cobblestone streets. The guards at the gate had questioned him thoroughly—his purpose, his background, and the reason for his visit. Though wary, they had ultimately allowed him entry, perhaps deterred by the sight of his injuries and the worn state of his clothes.
As he moved deeper into the bustling city, Alexander found himself overwhelmed by the noise and energy that filled the air. Merchants shouted from their stalls, hawking their goods to passersby; children darted between the crowds, laughing and playing; and carriages rumbled over the cobblestones, their wheels clattering loudly.
Alexander's stomach rumbled, reminding him of how long it had been since his last meal. He scanned the streets, searching for a place where he could sit down, eat, and gather his thoughts. His eyes fell on a small, unassuming restaurant tucked away between two larger buildings. The aroma of cooking meat and spices wafted out of the open door, and Alexander's mouth watered at the thought of a hot meal.
He made his way over and stepped inside, the din of the street fading as the door closed behind him. The interior of the restaurant was dimly lit, with a few wooden tables scattered around the room. Most of the patrons were locals, chatting quietly among themselves as they ate. Alexander found an empty table near the back and took a seat, a plump, middle-aged waitress with a kind smile approached, wiping her hands on her apron.
"What can I get for you, love?" she asked, her voice warm and friendly.
"Just something simple, please," Alexander replied. "Whatever's good today."
The waitress nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Alexander to look around the room. His eyes wandered over the other patrons, noting the variety of people gathered here. Most of them appeared to be workers or tradespeople, their clothes simple and worn. A few wore finer garments, suggesting they were merchants or minor officials.
Alexander's attention was drawn to a table nearby, where two men were deep in conversation. He couldn't help but overhear bits and pieces of their discussion, his curiosity piqued by the mention of the Nox family.
"...damned shame what happened to the old patriarch," one of the men was saying, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Knew him well, I did. Always thought he got a raw deal from the Empire."
The other man grunted in agreement. "Aye, but you know how it is with these political games. One wrong move and you're out. Heard his daughter, Liliana Nox, took over after he was executed. Supposed to be a real looker, she is."
"Yeah, I heard the same," the first man replied, leaning in closer. "But it's not just her looks that got people talking. Word is, her husband died not long after she took over. Strange circumstances he died, they say."
Alexander's ears perked up at this. He had heard the name Liliana Nox before, but he hadn't realized she was involved in such a scandalous history. He kept his head down, pretending to be focused on the worn wooden table in front of him, while continuing to listen intently.
"What do you think happened to him?" the second man asked, his voice dropping even lower.
"Who knows?" the first man replied with a shrug. "Could be anything in a place like this. But some say she's got a charm about her, makes men do crazy things. Even heard some of the lads joking that her husband died happy, if you know what I mean. Said she's so beautiful, it's worth dying just to spend a night with her."
Both men chuckled at this, but Alexander felt a knot of unease. It was clear that Liliana Nox was no ordinary woman, and the rumors surrounding her and her family suggested a deeper, more dangerous trouble or intrigue.