The Lycan brothers and their companions gathered in the vast library of the Lycan manor. Shelves of weathered wood stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, lined with thousands of books — dusty tomes, cracked leather bindings, parchment scrolls rolled tight and bound with faded ribbons. The scent of old paper hung thick in the air, like a fog of knowledge collected across centuries. For hours they had searched, pulling volumes from the shelves, flipping through brittle pages, stacking books across the long oak table until the wood nearly disappeared beneath them. Yet for all their effort, not a single one revealed how to decipher the mysterious scroll. Frustration weighed heavy until Hellen, her beautiful eyes scanning the bookshelf, stopped short at a smaller shelf tucked deep in a corner. There, half-hidden between oversized atlases, rested a book that looked far newer than the rest. She pulled it free, brushing dust from its cover. "Lev," she said, walking toward him with curiosity burning in her eyes, "how could we have never seen this before?" Lev raised his brow, pushing aside a stack of atlases. "Most of these books come as donations from schools and libraries. There's no way we could ever go through them all." Hellen nodded, flipping open the cover. "Well… this might make sense, then." Brasco leaned over her shoulder, his deep voice rumbling. "What did you find?" "It's from the old Willdrow School for Fables," Hellen said, excitement creeping into her tone. She turned the pages quickly until her finger stopped on an old photograph. "There was a professor there — Archimedes. He taught history, but also…" She looked up, eyes gleaming. "Are you ready for this? He was known for studying dead languages." Rowdy leaned across the table, squinting. "Dead languages? Like… forgotten ones?" "Yes," Hellen said, jabbing the photo. "And look at this example — he's standing beside an ancient tablet. Look closely at the lettering." Lev's eyes widened. Rowdy gasped. "It's just like the scroll! "Exactly," Hellen said with a triumphant smile. "Does it say where we can find him?" Razor asked quickly, urgency cutting through the room. Hellen flipped to the final entry. "It says he retired… on the highest mountain in Fableville because he hates company." She hesitated, her face paling. "Fujifable Mountain."Lance dropped the book he was holding. "You don't mean Fujifable Mountain…" "That's the one," Hellen confirmed, her voice filled with concern. Lev closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. "That's one of the most dangerous places in Fableville. Snowstorms, snow creatures… and you can't even reach the base of the mountain without a plane or helicopter. No one simply walks up to Fujifable. Rowdy blinked. "Wait… you need a helicopter just to get to the bottom of the mountain?" "Exactly," Brasco said grimly. "It's no joke. That mountain has claimed more lives than any beast." He looked at the others. "We all could be killed." "Then don't come," he added, almost daring them. Razor and Rowdy exchanged a glance, then said in unison, "We're in." "Count me in too," Lance added, his jaw set. Lev sighed. "Well, there's still one problem… how do we get our claws on a helicopter?" At that, the Captain, who had been quietly listening with his arms crossed, suddenly cleared his throat. A sly smile tugged at his lips. "Gentlemen. Lady. I have just the thing." He tapped his chest proudly. "Meet me out in the back field in ten minutes." Before anyone could question him, he bolted out the door, leapt into his car, and roared down the manor drive. The group hurried to gather supplies, stuffing thick coats, rope, food, and weapons into packs. Even Lycans could not ignore the bite of mountain frost. Lev looked to Hellen as they prepared. "Even we freeze in the snow," he said with a half-smile, though worry shadowed his eyes. When they stepped out onto the manor's porch, bags in hand, a thunderous WHOMP-WHOMP-WHOMP shook the sky. They looked up to see a helicopter wobbling toward them, its paint peeling and one side rattling dangerously. A ridiculous horn honked from the cockpit, and there was the Captain, grinning like a madman behind the controls. The group stared in disbelief. "That… thing looks like it'll fall apart in mid-air," Razor muttered. "It's held together with hope and rust," Lance added. The Captain proudly landed in the field, the machine groaning as though in protest. "All aboard!" he shouted. Against all better judgment, they piled inside, laughing nervously as the craft lurched skyward. Hours later, snow-capped peaks loomed ahead, jagged like the teeth of some enormous beast. Fujifable Mountain pierced the clouds, its icy crown glimmering in the sunlight. But as they neared the base, Hellen suddenly screamed, "Look out!" From the clouds swooped a massive shadow — leathery wings stretching wide, eyes glowing red. The Night Terror Bat. Sent by the Huntsman. It shrieked, claws slamming against the helicopter. The machine shuddered violently, metal groaning under the assault. "Hold her steady, Captain!" Lev shouted. "I am holding her steady!" the Captain roared, jerking the controls. The bat ripped at the tail, sending them into a spin. Everyone clutched their seats as the helicopter spiraled. At the last moment, the Captain pulled the nose up, and the battered craft slammed down hard — but almost perfectly — on the snowy clearing at the mountain's base. Breathless, they stumbled out into the freezing air, watching the Night Terror Bat vanish back into the clouds, wings beating toward the Huntsman's hidden lair. The climb began. Snow crunched under boots and claws, winds biting through coats. Hours passed in weary silence, each step a battle against the mountain's wrath. By nightfall, a storm descended, blinding white fury swirling around them. The group huddled together, erecting a massive tent, its canvas straining against the gale. Inside, warmth from a fire flickered against the walls as they endured the storm's endless howl. When dawn came, golden sunlight pierced the snowdrifts. They pushed open the tent flap, shoving away heavy snow. The world outside glittered like diamonds, cold but breathtaking. By midday, they were close to the summit when Lev froze, ears twitching. "Something's following us," he whispered. The others stiffened, hands on weapons. Then the sound came — heavy, thunderous steps crunching snow. From behind jagged rocks, eight hulking shapes emerged. White-furred, towering, with eyes like shards of ice. Abominable snowmen. They roared, shaking the air. "Stop!" Lev called, holding up his hand. "We mean no harm!" The largest snowman stepped forward, muscles like stone beneath his fur. "Leave this place now," he thundered, "or die where you stand" "I'm Lev Lycan of Fableville!" Lev pleaded. "Please, we must speak with Professor Archimedes!" The leader bared his teeth. "No. You leave, or we kill you." Lev's sword hissed free of its sheath. "I don't think so."
Before blood could be shed, a voice echoed from the cave above. "Wait. Wait." The snowmen turned as a robed figure emerged, leaning on a gnarled staff. His beard was white as frost, eyes sharp behind round spectacles "Professor Archimedes?" Hellen breathed. "Indeed," the old man said with a weary smile. "It's all right, Fred," he told the snowman leader. "They're guests." The snowmen stepped back reluctantly. "Please," Archimedes beckoned, "come inside, out of the cold." Rowdy frowned. "That's a cave, not a house." Brasco smacked him. "Shut up." But once they stepped through the cave's mouth, jaws dropped. Inside was a vast hall, warm and lit by golden lanterns. Shelves of relics lined the stone walls: ancient swords, glowing crystals, books that whispered when touched. It was no cave — it was a sanctuary of history. Archimedes motioned for them to sit. "I'll admit… I hate company," he said honestly. "But you all look determined. Interesting, too." Lev laid the scroll before him. "Please, Professor. We believe this is a dead language. It's a matter of life and death for Fableville. Archimedes adjusted his spectacles, reading silently. His eyes widened. "Ah. I knew it." "You knew what?" Hellen asked, leaning forward. "That you lot would be… mighty interesting," he said with a sly grin. Brasco growled. "We don't have time for games. What does it say?" "Very well," Archimedes said. He explained the language's name and its origins, then unrolled parchment to copy the scroll into their tongue. "It speaks of a location… the resting place of an artifact. Dangerous, yes, but vital. I'll make you a map." They rested that night in his strange, wondrous home. By morning, Archimedes presented them with the translated map, ink still drying. As they stepped outside, Lev looked back and lifted his hand in farewell. Archimedes chuckled, raising his own. Then — from the clouds — a shriek. The Night Terror Bat swooped down, wings blotting out the sun. Before anyone could react, its claws seized Archimedes. He shouted once, then the beast tore him skyward. With a sickening crunch, it devoured him in mid-air, blood raining across the snow. The group froze in horror. Then panic seized them, and they fled down the mountain, rage and grief burning in their hearts. At the base, gasping, Hellen turned to Lev. "What does the map say?" Lev pulled it from his coat, eyes narrowing at the words. His voice was grim. "It points to Lucidar." Hellen's face drained of color. "The land of the dinosaurs. At the edge of Fableville. No one goes there… unless they want to die." "That's the one," Lev said. "Well then," Hellen said with a shaky laugh, "we'd better get going." Despite the fear and the loss, the group laughed with her, their voices echoing across the snow as they set off toward Lucidar, the land of dinosaurs.