The ground continued to shake, more violently now, as Draven's calm expression never wavered. His hands were raised high, his fingers tracing complex patterns in the air, each movement calculated and focused. The Silverfang warriors looked around in confusion and fear, unsure of what to expect next.
Kael's heart pounded in his chest. He had seen many things in his time, but this? This was unlike anything he had ever encountered. The tremors were growing stronger, not just underfoot but in the air, as if the earth was warning them of what was to come.
Standing tall and resolute, Erland barely seemed to notice the growing tension. His arrogance made him dismiss any real threat. His eyes locked on Draven as he gripped his sword tighter.
"What is this, Draven?" he sneered, trying to hide the unease creeping into his voice. "More tricks?"
Draven's lips curled into a faint smile, but nothing of humor existed. "You still don't understand, do you, Erland?" His voice was low, yet it carried an unsettling weight. "This is not a trick. This is the beginning of your end."
The Silverfang warriors shifted uneasily, glancing at each other, their confidence cracking. The ground beneath their feet continued to tremble. Then, suddenly, it stopped. The stillness that followed was deafening.
For a moment, nothing happened. And then the earth itself seemed to give way.
The ground cracked open from the stronghold's courtyard depths with a roaring sound. The shifting stone echoed in the silence, followed by a deep growl that sent chills down the spines of the Silverfang soldiers. Erland's smirk faltered, and Kael's eyes narrowed, sensing what was coming.
The earth split wider, and out of the depths of the crack, a massive figure emerged. It was a creature, unlike any Kael, had seen—half-man, half-beast, with fur as black as night, rippling muscles, and eyes that burned with a fierce, primal hunger. It was a werewolf, but not the beast one could easily kill with a sword. This was a creature of immense power, summoned by Draven's will.
Draven lowered his hands, his body trembling with exhaustion. He had pushed himself to the limit, knowing full well that this beast was all he could summon at the moment. His frail body was weakening, but he needed time to train and regain his former strength. And this beast? This may not be the strongest beast, but it will be enough.
The werewolf beast roared, a sound that shook the very air around them. Its howl sent waves through the trees, and even the Silverfang warriors felt a dread filling their hearts. It was a creature born of the darkest magic, a beast that was intelligent and driven by an inextinguishable bloodlust.
Erland took a step back, his earlier bravado replaced by uncertainty. "This... this is what you've been hiding?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "A monster?
Draven's voice was steady as he answered, his eyes gleaming. "Not just any monster. This beast is the first step in my return. And it will end you."
Return? What nonsense are you talking about? Erland replied.
With a roar, the beast lunged forward, its claws scraping against the stone as it closed the distance between itself and the Silverfang forces. It was faster than expected, and the ground trembled beneath its weight as it barreled toward them.
Erland's warriors were quick to react, raising their swords and shields in a desperate attempt to defend themselves. But it was futile. The beast tore through their ranks, its claws slashing through metal and bone with terrifying ease. Men screamed as they were thrown aside, their bodies torn apart by the force of the werewolf's assault.
Kael watched in horror as the beast ripped through the Silverfang lines, his mind racing. He knew they were outmatched. No amount of strength or weapons would be enough to stop this creature. Not without a plan.
"Regroup!" Kael shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We need to pull back!"
But Erland, ever the fool, refused to listen. "No! Stand your ground! We are Silverfang! We do not retreat!" he growled, his voice filled with fury. His eyes locked on the werewolf, and he charged forward, sword raised, intent on taking down the beast.
Draven watched from the shadows, his eyes fixed on the battle before him. He knew Erland would be foolish enough to charge. It was in his nature. Draven's lips parted into a smile as he watched the Silverfang forces crumble under the beast's assault.
As the werewolf tore through the Silverfang ranks, Kael found himself torn. He knew that Erland's bravado would lead them all to their deaths if they didn't change tactics. He needed to act fast.
"Fall back! Now!" Kael shouted once again, this time louder and with more authority. He could see the chaos in the Silverfang ranks, the terror and confusion that had spread among them. Erland was losing control, and the battle was slipping from their grasp.
But it was too late. The werewolf's roar echoed once again, and in a blur of motion, it seized Erland by the throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease. Erland gasped for breath, his sword clattering to the ground as he struggled in the beast's iron grip.
Kael's heart sank. "Erland!" he cried, rushing forward, but the distance was too great. His legs felt like they were made of stone as he watched helplessly.
Erland's eyes met Kael's, but there was no defiance left. His face was pale, his body suspended in the werewolf's grip, and a flicker of fear crossed his features. "You... you were right," he rasped, his voice weak. "I... underestimated him...
Kael's chest tightened. He knew it was too late for Erland. The arrogance that had once defined him was gone now, replaced with the realization of how outmatched they were.
With a sickening snap, the werewolf crushed Erland's throat, and the third son of the Silverfang Clan went limp in its grasp.
The remaining Silverfang warriors froze in fear, their morale shattered. Some attempted to flee, while others stood their ground, their weapons raised in a futile attempt to fight the beast. But it was no use. The werewolf turned on them, tearing through their ranks with brutal efficiency.
Kael, his heart heavy with regret, knew there was nothing more they could do. They were doomed.
Draven stepped forward as the beast continued its rampage, his eyes cold and calculating. His body was frail, but his mind was sharp, and the strength of his magic flowed through him like a river. He could feel the werewolf's power, the creature he had summoned with great effort. It was weak compared to what he had been capable of when he was the King, but it was more than enough to break the Silverfang Clan.
Kael's eyes met Draven's, and for a brief moment, something flickered between them—an unspoken acknowledgment of what had just transpired.
"You were right," Kael said quietly, his voice filled with reluctant respect. "The Blackthorn... they have risen.
Draven's gaze was unreadable. "You are quick to learn," he said. "But it is too late for your clan."
Kael swallowed hard, the weight of his failure pressing down on him. As he watched the beast finish its rampage, he couldn't help but wonder what other power lay hidden behind the quiet figure that stood before him. And though he would never admit it aloud, a part of him understood now—Draven was no mere servant. He was something far greater.
The werewolf roared one last time, its hunger sated for the moment as it stood over the broken remnants of the Silverfang forces. The beast had done its work.
Kael looked up at Draven, meeting his gaze. There was no turning back now. The Silverfang Clan had been defeated.