Pov change
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The grand chamber of the Belvoir estate was bathed in the golden glow of chandeliers, their light reflecting off the polished marble floors. Around the sprawling oak table sat three nobles, their faces tense as they absorbed the news.
Lord Aldric of House Belvoir, a tall man with sharp features and a perpetual sneer, slammed a fist on the table, rattling the goblets of fine wine. "A dozen men. Gone. Just like that?" His voice was cold, but the undercurrent of fury was unmistakable.
Seated across from him, Lady Margrette of House Carthon sipped her wine, her expression unreadable. Her silver hair was pinned back elegantly, but her sharp eyes betrayed her calculating mind. "It seems the reports weren't exaggerated. She's more dangerous than we anticipated".
"And who's responsible for this failure?" Lord Reginald of House Thorn barked, his large frame leaning forward aggressively. His crimson coat stretched across his shoulders, emphasizing his bullish demeanour.
A soldier stood at attention near the doorway, his face pale and his posture stiff. "My lords, my lady," he began, voice trembling, "when we arrived at the scene, the men were… unrecognizable. Torn apart, some of them burned beyond recognition. There were scorch marks on the trees, and the earth itself was shattered as if struck by a mighty force."
"Magic," Margrette murmured, swirling her wine.
"Obviously," Aldric snapped, pacing the length of the room. "But this wasn't just any magic. Who else could've done this but her?"
The soldier hesitated before continuing. "We… we also found tracks, my lord. Wolf tracks. Large ones."
The nobles exchanged glances. Reginald's brow furrowed. "A wolf? She has a beast at her command now?"
"Perhaps," Margrette replied, setting her goblet down with deliberate care. "But that's not the most concerning part. If the girl has truly aligned herself with such power, she won't stop here. Her actions are calculated. First, she cuts down our men, and now…" She trailed off, her lips curling into a faint smile.
"Now what?" Aldric growled, his impatience flaring.
"She's making a statement," Margrette replied. "This isn't just an act of defiance. It's a declaration of war".
Reginald snorted, leaning back in his chair. "War? Against *us*? A mere girl playing with powers she doesn't fully understand?"
"Underestimate her, and you'll end up like those soldiers," Margrette shot back, her voice icy. "She's more than a simple girl now. She's evolving".
The room fell silent as the weight of her words settled over them.
Aldric finally stopped pacing, his piercing gaze locking onto the soldier. "Did you recover anything useful? Anything to track her down?"
The soldier hesitated. "My lord, there was a scent—a faint one. Blood and… something else. It led deeper into the forest, but it vanished near the edge of an ancient ruin."
"Ruin?" Aldric's voice sharpened. "What ruin?"
"One of the older ones, my lord. Abandoned and overgrown. We searched the perimeter but found no sign of her. It was as if she vanished".
Margrette raised a brow. "Clever girl. She knows how to cover her tracks".
Reginald slammed a fist on the table. "Then we send more men. Twice as many. No, three times! She won't escape again".
"And what will that accomplish?" Margrette asked, her tone dripping with condescension. "You'll lose more soldiers and gain nothing. If she's as dangerous as she appears, brute force won't work. We need a strategy. Precision".
Aldric nodded slowly, his mind already turning. "We'll need to lure her out. Force her to come to us on our terms".
"And how do you propose we do that?" Reginald growled.
A sinister smile spread across Aldric's face. "By targeting what she cares about."
Margrette tilted her head, intrigued. "Her allies, perhaps? A wolf may be loyal, but what of the villagers she once knew? Those who sheltered her?"
Aldric's smile widened. "Exactly. Fear is a powerful motivator. If she sees the consequences of her defiance, she'll have no choice but to face us".
The soldier shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.
Margaret leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "And if she doesn't come?"
"Then we leave a trail of destruction in our wake," Aldric replied coldly. "Either way, she'll lose".
Reginald nodded, his earlier frustration giving way to grim satisfaction. "I'll prepare the men. This time, she won't escape".
Margrette raised her goblet, her voice soft but laced with menace. "To the hunt, then".
The three nobles exchanged dark smiles, their shared goal uniting them despite their differences.
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pov back
Meanwhile, far from the scheming nobles, Amanda and her companions made camp in a secluded grove. The fire crackled softly, its warm light illuminating their weary faces.
Amanda sat cross-legged, sharpening her dagger with a steady rhythm. Her crimson eyes flicked to Eryndor, who was busy examining his new demonic abilities. Fenris lay nearby, his breathing slow and steady as he rested.
"We need to keep moving," Amanda said abruptly, breaking the silence. "The nobles won't let this go".
Eryndor looked up, his expression serious. "Do you think they'll come after us?"
"Not personally," Amanda replied, her tone sharp. "But they'll send more men. Stronger ones. And they'll try to flush us out".
Fenris let out a low growl, his ears twitching. Amanda reached over, her hand brushing his fur. "We'll be ready," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Eryndor nodded, his resolve hardening. "I owe you my life, Master. Whatever comes, I'll fight by your side".
Amanda gave him a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Good. Because things are about to get much harder".
She glanced at the stars overhead, their cold light a stark contrast to the warmth of the fire. The path she had chosen was steep and treacherous, but there was no turning back.
The darkness within her stirred, growing stronger with each step she took.