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N/B : Yoy!! Guys Don't forget to check my other works: [ Shadow Ă One Piece]
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Third POV:
"ARISE."
The word rolled from Adam's tongue like a divine decree, its power vibrating through the still air, echoing off the ancient trees, and piercing into the very essence of the corpses that littered the forest floor. Shadows, thick and liquid, began to leak like black smoke from the bodies of the slain werewolves, curling upward, thickening, reshaping with a silent, terrifying purpose. One by one, the beasts rose againâthis time not with savage snarls of hunger, but with an eerie, absolute silence. Their eyes now glowed a deep, abyssal blue, their jaws hung slack yet razor-sharp, their entire presence no longer wild and feral but cold, disciplined, and utterly enslaved.
Adam's lips curved into a wide, triumphant grin.
"If I want to grow stronger⊠then I need a strong army."
Before his eyes, fifty shadow soldiers stood at attention, an army born in blood and silence, forged in moonlight and death. And among them, the towering alpha he had personally slain earlierâthe once-terrifying beast that had radiated primal dominanceânow knelt before him, its immense head bowed.
Adam stepped forward slowly, his boots crunching over dried leaves and splintered bones, his own shadow stretching long and distorted in the pale moonlight. The alpha lowered its massive head even further until its wet snout nearly touched the dirt, its monstrous body trembling, not with fear, but with pure, unquestioning submission. Its once burning red eyes now glowed with the same faint, obedient blue as the others, like twin lanterns that had been swallowed by the void.
Adam smirked, his gaze as hard and cold as iron.
"I will name you⊠Alpha."
The shadow-werewolf lifted its head slightly at his words, exhaling a misty, spectral breath that shimmered in the cold night air, then bent lower once more in silent acknowledgment.
Behind him, the entire pack shifted as one unified entity. Fifty kneeling shadows, an army bound by his will alone, their collective auras rolling out like waves of silent, impending thunder. The sight was nothing short of apocalypticâan army of darkness bowing to one man, the very forest itself seeming to tremble under the weight of their united, terrifying presence.
Adam chuckled under his breath, the sound low and confident.
"Let's continue our work here⊠before the sunrise ruins the mood."
He turned on his heel, and like specters given form, his army followed, their forms fading in and out of the deeper shadows of the forest as he walked steadily deeper into the heart of the darkness.
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The deeper he ventured, the less the forest resembled anything of the living, familiar world. The trees grew thicker and more grotesque, their twisted roots crawling across the ground like skeletal, grasping hands. Thick, wet moss dripped down from branches in heavy, rotting ropes, glistening unpleasantly in the scant light like dead flesh. The canopy overhead was so dense and interlocked that the moonlight barely pierced it, leaving only thin, sharp streaks of silver cutting through the overwhelming blackness. Every gust of wind carried faint, unintelligible whispers, as though the forest itself murmured ancient, forbidden secrets in a language long forgotten by man.
Owls hooted somewhere high above, their calls distant and mournful. A branch snapped somewhere far off to his left, the sound echoing through the trees like a deliberate warning. The coppery smell of blood from the recent battle still lingered thickly in the air, now mixed with the deeper, older scent of damp rot and decaying earth. Adam breathed it all in, not with fear or disgust, but with a strange, acquired calmness. His footsteps were the only human sound, echoing faintly, his silent army trailing him like extensions of his own shadow, stitched to his very soul.
And thenâhe started singing.
His voice was low at first, soft against the oppressive silence, yet it carried strangely well among the dense trees, a human sound in a very inhuman place.
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(Inspired by "How to Save a Life" â rewritten in your story's style so it's not the copyrighted lyrics)
"Step one, you try to listen,
to the heart you cannot hear.
Step two, you walk beside them,
though the path is carved in fear.
And I would stay the night,
if it could make it right,
but in the end we're askingâŠ
how to save a life."
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Adam stopped abruptly, his voice fading into the waiting darkness, the last note hanging in the air before being swallowed by the forest. He whispered to himself with a bitter, lonely smile,
"Really⊠how to save a life."
But the words lingered in his chest like a physical weight, heavy and unresolved. He knew, with a sudden, painful clarity, that somewhere else, someone was walking their own difficult path, utterly alone.
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Far from the forbidden forest, in the cold, deep dungeons of Hogwarts, lit only by the dim, flickering candlelight of the potions classroom, Hermione Granger stood alone. The air was heavy and stale with the sharp, acrid scent of long-brewed ingredientsâburnt nettles, crushed roots, and the clinging, stale potion fumes that never fully left the porous stone walls. Snape had given her detention: to manually clean every single cauldron, wipe every table free of residue, and meticulously reorder every vial and jar on the countless shelves.
Her hands moved with methodical, practiced precision, scrubbing with a stiff brush, but her mind was far from calm. Her lips were pressed into a thin, frustrated line as she muttered under her breath, the words a quiet litany of annoyance,
"Bloody Adam⊠arrogant, insufferable⊠If it wasn't for him and his⊠his opinions, I'd be in the library right now. Warm. Reading."
And yet⊠despite the frustration, there was a faint, undeniable glimmer of engagement in her eyes. For Hermione, work was never mere punishmentâit was always an opportunity. Every vial she cleaned, she inspected its label and contents. Every rare ingredient jar she touched, she memorized its location and properties. Her quill and a scrap of parchment lay nearby, her notesâscribbled hastily between tasksâgrowing longer and more detailed. Even in punishment, she was learning, organizing, and a part of her, the core part that was Ravenclaw at heart, relished it.
The dim light reflected off her bushy curls as she brushed a stray strand away from her forehead with the back of her wet wrist, pausing to squint at the faded label of a jar containing powdered bezoar. For a moment, she forgot the cold stone around her, forgot the punishment entirely, her heart thudding with the quiet, familiar thrill of acquiring new knowledge.
But then, as her rag slipped against the slimy interior of a stained pewter cauldron, she frowned, the reality of her situation returning. > "Still⊠I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." Her voice softened after a pause, losing its edge. > "âŠBut maybe⊠it's not so bad."
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Back to Adam
The forest around Adam grew darker still, if that were possible. His shadows walked in perfect, ghostly silence, fifty figures moving like wraiths across the uneven earth. Every step he took, the ground itself seemed to whisper secrets beneath his feet. His hand rested instinctively on the hilt of his new dagger, Bloodfang, his eyes constantly scanning the shifting darkness around him. Something was changing. Something ancient and powerful was near.
And thenâhe felt it.
A pressure. Immense. Heavy. Suffocating. Unlike the aggressive hunger of the werewolves, this presence wasn't frantic or savage. It was older, infinitely darker, and terrifyingly patient.
Adam froze mid-step, his chest tightening as the air turned thick and heavy like tar. His lips curled into a sharp, tense line as every shadow at his back went preternaturally still, their glowing blue eyes all turning in unison toward the same dense patch of trees ahead.
The forest fell into a silence so complete it was deafening.
Adam exhaled once, a shallow breath, and whispered into the void,
"âŠOh my fucking Lord."
The earth beneath his feet trembled.
[ End of Chapter. ]
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