Havilah leaned forward, his voice steady but carrying the weight of urgency. "Lady Morwen, can we count on you when the time comes?"
Morwen's sharp eyes glinted like tempered steel as she regarded him. For a moment, silence stretched, broken only by the crackling hearth. Finally, she spoke, her tone cool yet deliberate. "It depends."
Havilah exhaled slowly, reading between the lines. Deep down, he knew Morwen would stand by him when the hour of reckoning arrived. Her loyalty was as fierce as her nature—never spoken outright, but carved into every decision she made.
Morwen folded her arms, her pristine white hair shimmering in the firelight as she added, "A storm is brewing here in Kanter City, Havilah. And when it breaks, it will drench friend and foe alike. I hope we can count on you… and on your friends."
Toby stepped forward, his voice calm but unwavering. "That depends," he said, his tone laced with quiet conviction. "If your cause is for peace and harmony, then we will gladly be of service."
Morwen's lips curved into a sharp smirk, her golden eyes narrowing as she studied Toby. "You remind me of a man," she murmured, almost to herself. Then, louder, with a trace of nostalgia in her voice, "A man of righteousness."
Toby frowned slightly, confusion flickering across his face, but before he could ask, the hall doors burst open with a thunderous slam. A lycan warrior stumbled in, panting heavily, his forehead matted with sweat.
"Lady Morwen," the lycan gasped, bowing low in deference, "forgive my intrusion, but we have gathered dire news. Magistrate Naro… he sent someone to Hollow Village."
Morwen arched an eyebrow, her voice sharp. "And what of it? Why is this worthy of panic?"
The lycan's eyes flicked nervously to the floor before meeting hers. "Because… it is Wat Tyler."
The name struck the chamber like a blade. Morwen's expression darkened instantly. In one swift motion, she rose to her feet, her palm slamming against the wooden table with a resounding crack. The stone cups rattled from the impact.
"That pig of a magistrate," she hissed, her voice trembling with restrained fury. "He truly dared to call upon that warlord."
Brea, who had been listening quietly, blinked in confusion. "Why? Who is Wat Tyler?"
Reu's face hardened, his deep voice breaking the tension. "I've heard of him. They call him the World Shaker."
Havilah turned sharply to the messenger, his tone cutting. "What is he doing there?"
The lycan swallowed hard. "Magistrate Naro does not wish to intervene directly with the disappearances in Hollow Village… though we know not why. Instead, he sent a paladin captain to investigate—under the guise of the Paladin. But why Wat Tyler is with him?."
Morwen's jaw tightened, her words sharp as a blade. "Wat Tyler is a dangerous man. He does not care who falls beneath his sword—even the innocent."
Havilah's brows furrowed, thoughts racing. "So the magistrate uses the paladins as a mask to meddle in Hollow Village. But why fear intervening openly?"
Morwen paced slowly, arms crossed, her mind a storm. "There is someone in Hollow Village who must be protected at all costs."
Havilah tilted his head. "Who?"
Her eyes hardened, the firelight dancing in their depths. "Alfonso Aurelios. A Nasyonalista… but one who cares for our kind. And I know Wat Tyler hunts him—to avenge his bloodline."
Brea's voice trembled with curiosity. "Why? What did Alfonso do to his family?"
Morwen's tone dropped low, thick with old wounds. "He aided us during the dark days, when survival was but a whisper. His choices spared our kind—but they condemned others. Wat's family paid the price."
Havilah's voice was firm now. "What should we do?"
Morwen turned to him, her presence radiating authority. "Take your friends and travel to Yubi City. There is something you must uncover there." Her gaze cut to the shadows of the hall. "I will go to Hollow Village myself."
Havilah nodded without hesitation. He faced Toby, Reu, and Brea, his voice resolute. "We move now."
As they prepared to leave, Morwen added, her tone sharp and commanding, "Use the cover of night. If you are seen leaving Kanter City, tongues will wag—and blades will follow." Then, without missing a beat, she gestured to two lycans—a tall, scarred male and a fierce-eyed woman. "You two, with me." The pair jerked to attention and followed her into the shadows.
At Hollow Village.
The flicker of candlelight bathed the small wooden room in a warm glow, belying the storm that raged within. Rickstar sat across from Wat Tyler, his voice calm yet probing. "What do you make of this? These disappearances… Do you think the Headman has a hand in it?"
Wat did not answer. His silence was heavier than words, his broad shoulders taut, fists clenched so tightly the veins bulged like cords of steel. His gaze burned—not at Rickstar, but at a memory.
Rickstar stepped closer, laying a steady hand on Wat's shoulder. "Wat—"
The reaction was instant. Like a beast unchained, Wat spun, his palm snapping over Rickstar's mouth in a crushing grip. Rickstar froze, his eyes locking on the warlord's face—and what he saw chilled him to the bone.
Wrath. Pure, unbridled wrath.
Wat's voice came out low, guttural, vibrating with barely contained rage. "I will kill that man. The one who took everything from me. He will pay."
Rickstar tried to speak, but the iron grip made it impossible. His muffled protests were swallowed by the air.
Then came the name, ripped from Wat's throat like a curse. "That man… Alfonso!" His grip tightened as his voice rose into a snarl. "He will die. And when he does, I will slaughter every last one of those filthy lycans—including Morwen."
Rickstar's heart pounded. He knew Morwen—not personally, but by reputation. A leader, fierce yet just. His instincts screamed to stop this madness. With a sudden surge, he tore Wat's hand free.
"Stop this nonsense, Wat!" Rickstar's voice rang with steel. "If you do this, you will stand against both the Nasyonalistas and the Paladins. You will lose everything—your power, your life!"
"I don't care!" Wat roared, his face contorted, tears cutting through the grime on his cheeks. His next words were softer, broken, but no less deadly. "If you stand in my way, I will kill you too."
Rickstar stared, stunned—not by the threat, but by the tears. For the first time, Wat had called him by name. "What did they do to you?" Rickstar whispered.
"You're on the wrong side, Rickstar," Wat growled, turning away. His voice cracked under the weight of his grief. "The wrong side of people."
Rickstar's mind churned. He had seen the corruption festering within his own ranks. He had ignored it—until now.
With grim resolve, he drew his Echo Stone and spoke softly. "Merko… old friend. It's time. I can't keep turning a blind eye." Before any reply came, he crushed the stone beneath his heel, shards scattering across the floor.
His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with a new fire. "I will help you, Wat. But on one condition—we hunt only the corrupt. Only those who deserve it."
Wat stared at him, breathing hard, before nodding slowly. "I can't promise that," he said hoarsely. "But I will try."
Their hands clasped like iron, sealing a pact born of blood and betrayal.
On the Road to Yubi City
Night draped its velvet cloak over Kanter City as Havilah and his companions slipped into the shadows, their steps swift and silent. The chill wind carried the distant hum of revelry, oblivious to the storm creeping beyond its walls.
Reu broke the silence first, his voice low. "What exactly are we supposed to find in Yubi City?"
Havilah tightened his grip on the parchment in his pocket. "Morwen gave me this. Said to open it once we arrive."
Brea's eyes darted nervously. "Wait—look over there."
They halted at the crest of a hill overlooking the outskirts of a city. A mob of people swarmed below, torches flickering like angry stars. At the center of the mob, a wooden pole stood tall—and bound to it, a lycan.
The crowd's roar was a living beast, spitting curses and venom. Rotten vegetables and stones flew through the air, striking the chained figure with cruel precision.
Havilah's blood boiled. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked, faint orange light flickering in his eyes. "This… This is why we hated them," he hissed.
Toby's sharp gaze cut through the scene. "Reu. That's him—the one who stole earlier."
Reu nodded grimly. "It is."
Brea clapped a hand over her mouth, horror widening her eyes. Then, something happened that stilled even the mob's rage.
A small child broke free from the throng, her tiny feet pounding against the dirt. She ran to the bound lycan, her arms wrapping around his bruised leg. "Stop it!" she cried, her voice trembling but fierce. "He's suffering already!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Then the father charged in, scooping his daughter close and planting himself before the lycan like a shield. His voice thundered with raw courage. "Enough! If he has broken the law, let him face judgment—but not this!"
The mob howled in protest, a tide of fury crashing against the fragile island of defiance. Yet Havilah stood frozen, breath caught in his throat. Among the darkness, a light flickered—fragile, but real.
Toby stepped closer, his voice calm as the moonlit sky. "You see? Not all men are beasts, Havilah. Not all hate runs as deep as you think."
Brea joined him, her hand brushing Havilah's arm gently. "Sometimes," she whispered, "you just have to look closely."