Chapter Fourteen
The next day, Tom woke up in a vast stone hall where each wall held a burning torch that pushed the darkness away, revealing a room both majestic and terrifying.
Three figures sat before him on gold-plated chairs — a man, a woman, and a boy. The man wore a massive crown that gleamed under the firelight. Elders stood beside them, cloaked in thick robes, clutching books tightly against their chests. Their presence was solemn, almost holy, like ancient priests guarding forgotten secrets.
Tom's pulse raced. Even without being told, he could tell the man with the crown was someone of immense importance — perhaps a king.
The crowned man's deep voice echoed through the hall.
"Pure blood… what are you doing on this side of the forest?"
Tom's breath hitched. His mind spun as he glanced at the enormous wolves behind him — creatures with gleaming eyes and low growls vibrating through the air.
"I— I got lost on my way home, sir," he stammered, his voice trembling.
The hall went still. One of the elders sneered.
"Do you take our king for a fool? Our guards saw you walking toward the gate!"
Tom's thoughts scattered. He didn't know who these people were or what they wanted. Every instinct told him to stay cautious.
"I didn't mean to—" he began, but the elder cut him off sharply.
"Your Highness, I suspect this one is a spy! We should kill him now before he brings trouble upon us!"
Several elders murmured their agreement, their voices low but filled with disdain.
Then the king's voice boomed through the chamber.
"Silence!"
The word alone was enough to make every elder fall quiet.
The king leaned forward, his eyes sharp and unreadable.
"Pure blood, what is your name?"
"Tom," he replied quietly.
The king's gaze softened slightly.
"My father's name was Tom. What a coincidence."
He paused, studying the boy. "Tell me, Tom, can you fight?"
Tom blinked in confusion. "A little, Your Highness."
The king rose slowly, his crown catching the firelight.
"Then by the power vested in me," he declared, "I grant you trial by combat on the next full moon. Until then, you shall live among us as a guest of my household."
The elder who had spoken earlier — Lothbrok — stiffened, his face twisting in anger.
"Your Highness, this is not right!" he argued. "We cannot allow an outsider within our walls! What if he's one of them? He could destroy us from within!"
The king's expression hardened. His next words dropped like ice.
"Lothbrok," he said, voice cold as steel, "let this be the last time you question my judgment. Challenge me again, and your head will decorate my gates."
Lothbrok paled. He lowered his head immediately.
"Y-yes, Your Highness," he murmured, stepping back with his eyes fixed on the ground.
Tom remained on his knees, heart pounding, thoughts racing. Pure blood… trial by combat… none of it made sense.
He studied the guards stationed along the hall — creatures unlike anything he'd ever seen. Some bore wolf bloodlines, with golden fur and piercing eyes, yet had large, bat-like wings folded behind them. Others resembled twisted wendigos, tall and skeletal, with fangs and claws sharper than any blade. The sight both terrified and fascinated him.
Who were they? Why were they hiding here? And why did they call him pure blood?
Finally, Tom found the courage to ask, "What is the trial by combat?"
The king chuckled, a deep, unsettling laugh that echoed through the chamber.
"You are an interesting boy," he said. "If you survive, I would love to have your company."
Then his tone shifted into something commanding yet calm.
"But don't worry — my King's Guard will explain it all on your way to your room."
Tom still didn't understand what was so amusing. He looked down at his trembling hands, mind spinning with questions, when the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hall.
Every guard turned sharply toward the entrance.
From the shadows, a familiar figure emerged — tall, calm, and expressionless.
Tom's breath caught.
It was John.
The same John who was the alpha of the lighting pack but this time with a scar on his face.
The guards stepped aside immediately, and even the king's gaze followed John as he walked closer. The tension in the room shifted, heavy and electric.
Tom's confusion deepened.
What was John doing here?
Why did everyone treat him with such silent respect — or was it fear?
The king's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"Ah," he said softly. "It seems our guest has arrived."
Tom stared at John, heart pounding. The hall was silent, the torches flickering. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or afraid — only that whatever was happening, it was far from over.