Arcanos and Modred walked through the dense forest, the air heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. Modred's voice carried a calm authority as he guided Arcanos through the intricacies of magic. They had been practicing for hours, honing Arcanos's skills, and now they had moved on to the language of sorcery, ancient and powerful, much like the one spoken by the legendary wizards of old.
"You're doing well," Modred said, watching as Arcanos concentrated on the words of the spell. "But remember, magic isn't just words. You have to channel the right mindset. Feel the power within you."
Arcanos, determined but still struggling, muttered the incantation. A flicker of flame danced in the air before sputtering out. He frowned in frustration.
"Again," Modred instructed, his tone patient but firm. "You have to focus."
They continued practicing, summoning fire, turning inanimate objects to life and back again. Arcanos was learning quickly, but the language of magic required precision, and his mind wasn't yet fully in sync with the words he spoke. Nevertheless, he was making progress.
As they paced through the forest, practicing spell after spell, both men suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere. They exchanged a wary glance—someone was nearby. Modred halted, scanning their surroundings with narrowed eyes.
"We're not alone," Modred muttered. "Intruders."
Within moments, hooded figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding them from every angle. The hoodlums were numerous, armed and menacing. Arcanos instinctively prepared for battle, eager to test his newfound magic. But Modred placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.
"Not now," Modred whispered. "We can't use magic recklessly here. We need to run."
Without hesitation, they sprinted into the trees, but the hoodlums gave chase. Before long, Arcanos and Modred were overpowered, captured, and bound. Forced to their knees, their hands tied behind their backs, they were at the mercy of their captors.
The leader of the hoodlums stepped forward, a giant of a man with a grotesque face twisted in a malicious grin. His presence was overwhelming, his aura dark and menacing. He raised his hands, forming fists, and with a flick of his wrists, both Arcanos and Modred were lifted into the air by an invisible force.
"Oh no," Modred muttered. "They have magic too."
The leader slammed them to the ground with a cruel laugh, controlling them with a mere movement of his hands. As they lay on the ground, Arcanos cast a questioning glance at Modred. Modred's expression was grim. They had stumbled into this trap because of past conflicts, and now any further fight could spark a war that neither Malachi nor Modred wanted.
"We can't fight back," Modred whispered. "It'll lead to something far worse."
The hoodlums began torturing them, their methods brutal. Arcanos gritted his teeth in pain, trying to endure the torment. Suddenly, a blur of movement caught his eye. Something—someone—was moving impossibly fast around them, a shadow flitting between the hoodlums.
Before Arcanos could process what was happening, the hoodlums started dropping to the ground, one by one. All except their leader, who was swiftly bound to a tree by some unseen force. Arcanos and Modred stared in shock, their hands suddenly freed. They had felt what seemed like a strong gust of wind, but it was more than that—something had broken their shackles.
They stood, confused and disoriented, scanning the area for the source of this unexpected aid. From behind a tree, a figure stepped forward—tall, cloaked in a black cape, and cleaning blood from his hands. It was Zephyr.
Modred stiffened, ready to flee, but stopped when he saw that Arcanos wasn't moving. Arcanos recognized their savior.
"You saved me again," Arcanos said, his voice filled with awe.
Modred's eyes narrowed. "You know him?"
Zephyr gave a wry smile. "And that's gotten me into more trouble than you can imagine."
"What do you mean?" Arcanos asked, confused by Zephyr's cryptic response.
Zephyr's gaze darkened as he looked at Arcanos. "Do you even know who I am?"
Modred interjected, his voice cold. "It's obvious—you're a vampire."
"How can you be... kind?" Arcanos asked, his curiosity piqued.
Zephyr's smirk faded. "Kind? I'm afraid our blood has always had a price."
"You shouldn't trust him," Modred said disdainfully. "He's still dangerous."
Zephyr ignored Modred's comment. "We don't feed on human blood, not all of us. We were trained not to."
Modred scoffed in disbelief. "A vampire who doesn't feed on humans? That's impossible."
Zephyr's expression turned distant, as if the conversation had dragged on too long. His eyes locked onto Arcanos. "Where's your mother?"
Arcanos hesitated. "Dead," he said quietly.
Zephyr's eyes flashed with fury. "Valak did this, didn't he?"
Arcanos nodded, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Yes."
Zephyr clenched his fists, rage boiling beneath the surface. "Valak will pay."
Arcanos, confused by Zephyr's sudden intensity, asked, "How do you know about her?"
Zephyr hesitated for a moment, his voice softer now. "Weren't you with her the day Valak's guards came?"
Arcanos's eyes widened in realization. "Oh! You mean my sister, Luna."
Zephyr's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Luna's name. A warmth spread through him, unexpected and undeniable. He had saved her once, but now…
Arcanos explained everything, detailing Luna's capture and the urgency of rescuing her before Valak could harm her. Fear for his sister weighed heavily on him, but he remained hopeful. He would not lose faith in her survival.
Before they could discuss further, Keller, the leader of the hoodlums, broke free of his magical bindings. With a roar of fury, he unleashed a wave of dark energy, sending Arcanos hurtling backward.
Zephyr's eyes blazed with fury as he stepped forward, ready to end this once and for all.