(Chapter Six: The Island of Stingers)
The Huntsman's lair was carved deep into the bones of the earth, a cavernous throne room lit by fire-pits and glimmering red crystal veins. The Night Terror, wings folded like a cloak of shadow, perched silently upon a pillar. The Huntsman stood at the center, his once-legendary axe shattered long ago, yet still hung in broken pieces across his mind like lost trophies. He clenched a wolf-pelt cloak at his shoulders, face shadowed beneath a hood. When the news reached him—whispered by his witches through enchanted smoke—his roar shook the cavern walls. "They found the first shard!" His voice was thunderous, his fist slamming against the stone table, splitting it in two. "Those damned Lycans dare touch what is mine?" The Night Terror shrieked in answer, its wings beating dust into the air. "They will never live to see the rest," the Huntsman snarled, pacing. "Send word to my allies. The insects are ready, and the ogres will taste their blood. Let them suffer for every step they take. The shards will be my rebirth—and when the axe is whole, the world of humans will no longer be blind!" He raised his broken blade toward the fire, vowing in a voice that carried like a curse, "The Lycans will drown in shadows before they see me fall." Back at Lycan Manor, Lev unrolled the brittle map across the oak kitchen table. The ink shimmered faintly, runes dancing like restless spirits. His eyes traced the jagged lines that led out across the sea. "It's on an island," Lev muttered, pointing to a mark at the heart of an ocean swirl. "Middle of nowhere. And looks like the shard's guarded again." Brasco crossed his arms. "Middle of the ocean? We'll need a boat." "And a captain who won't sell us out," added Lance, voice still raspy from his ordeal in the Huntsman's clutches. Brasco smirked. "I know a guy." The dock at Fableville's edge creaked beneath their boots as gulls wheeled overhead. Ships bobbed against the tide, their sails weathered and patched. Waiting for them was a tall, wiry man in a captain's coat two sizes too large, his hat decorated with shells, feathers, and what might've been a spoon. "By the tides of my beard!" the captain bellowed when he spotted Brasco. "If it isn't the mangy wolf who owes me three pints and a week's worth of dice games!" Brasco laughed and embraced the man. "Lev, Lance, everyone—this is Captain Merrick. Best sailor this side of the Dark Reaches. Don't mind the smell, that's just the squid ink he bathes in." Merrick swept into a bow, nearly tripping on his own boots. "A pleasure! A horror! A contract waiting to happen! Now, where are we sailing, eh? Into the jaws of doom, I hope? It's been too long since doom and I had a dance." Lev explained the island, but Merrick grew serious, scratching his beard. "You're heading toward the Shattered Deep. Storms brew there without end. And to get to your island, you'll pass by Mermaid Cove… if the sea monster doesn't tear us in half first." "Sea monster?" Razor asked, his eyes narrowing. Merrick grinned, all teeth. "Oh, just a legend. A thing older than Fableville itself. Some say it's the last spawn of Leviathan. But don't worry! She only comes out when she smells wolf blood." The Lycan brothers exchanged looks. They set sail at dusk. Waves slapped against the hull, and Merrick sang to himself as he steered, a wild tune of half-remembered ballads. Hellen leaned against the rail beside Lev, the sea wind whipping her hair. "Feels wrong," she whispered. "The air's too still for a storm." And as if summoned, thunder cracked across the sky. Dark clouds rolled in, swallowing the stars. Rain began to pelt the deck, and the sea churned violently. Then came the first strike.THOOM! Something massive slammed against the underside of the ship, nearly capsizing them. Merrick cursed, spinning the wheel. "She's here! Hold on to your tails, lads!" From the depths, a vast shape rose. Tentacles, thick as tree trunks, lashed out of the waves, slick and glistening. A maw surfaced, ringed with teeth, eyes glowing deep green."The sea monster!" Lance shouted, drawing steel. The Lycans slashed at the writhing limbs as the Spade brothers hacked with their twin blades. Hellen loosed a spell of white flame, searing one of the tentacles until it withdrew with a screech. But the beast slammed the boat sideways, driving it toward jagged rocks. Merrick fought the wheel, yelling, "She's forcing us into the Cove!" Mermaid Cove glowed with ethereal beauty. The storm broke here, replaced by a calm, moonlit sea. Dozens of stunning women with long, flowing hair surfaced around the boat, singing in haunting harmony. Rowdy leaned over the edge, eyes glassy. "They're… beautiful…" "Rowdy, no!" Razor shouted, grabbing him, but another voice lured him close to the rail as well. In an instant, the mermaids' faces twisted—eyes black, teeth sharp, claws dripping. Sirens. They lunged, trying to drag the brothers into the depths. Lev and Brasco tore them away, claws flashing, while Hellen cast a blinding burst of light that scattered the sirens shrieking into the dark. The brothers collapsed back onto the deck, gasping, saved by inches. Merrick spat into the sea. "Lovely girls, terrible dates." By dawn, they reached the island. Black sands stretched inland, jungle looming like a wall of shadows. They built a fire and collapsed in exhaustion. But before the sun rose fully, something whistled through the air and tore into Lev and Hellen's tent. Lev rolled free, yanking the object from the ground. It wasn't an arrow. It was a stinger. The size of a spear. "Stay alert," Lev growled. "We're not alone." The jungle closed in around them as they pressed forward. The air buzzed unnaturally, every shadow twitching. Then came the sound—CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH—branches snapping all around them. From the trees burst nightmare forms: insects the size of men, their carapaces black and glistening, wings beating like war drums. Their stingers fired like arrows, embedding in the earth around them. The battle was brutal. Razor was pinned, Lance dragged one beast off him, while Brasco tore through another with savage claws. Hellen unleashed storms of fire, Lev's blade flashing silver. Finally, the last insect fell, ichor spilling into the soil. They reached the fortress by dusk—a black citadel carved into the mountain, guarded by the Huntsman's men. The assault was chaos. Blades clashed, fire roared, and then the fortress gates split open to reveal twin ogres, monstrous brutes wielding clubs that shattered stone "Mine," Brasco snarled, charging with the Spade brothers at his side. The fight was furious—ogres smashing the earth, wolves leaping, blood spraying. Finally, with a combined strike, the brothers brought the ogres crashing to the ground. Lev and Hellen fought through the chaos to face the fortress's boss general, a hulking beetle-armored brute. Side by side, they struck him down in a blur of steel and flame. At last, silence fell. Within the fortress chamber lay the second shard—black steel glowing with faint red runes. Beside it, a scroll. Lev picked it up, frowning. "It's written in an old tongue. I… can't read it." Merrick peered over his shoulder, squinting. "Dead language, that one. Only a few souls alive know its letters." Lev slid the shard into his pack beside the first. His jaw tightened. "Then we find someone who does. And fast." That night, as their ship sailed back toward Lycan Manor, thunder growled again over distant seas. And in the Huntsman's cavern, another roar shook the earth. "They have the second shard. And I will flay the skin from their bones before they ever find the third."