"Mikal, you are a disgrace to this family!" Chief Mabu spat, glaring down at his fourteenyear-old son who knelt before him with glassy, tear-filled eyes.
The chief's expression was cold and unforgiving, his towering figure casting a shadow over the boy. He looked ready to strike him against the wall at any moment.
His wife, Morgana, stepped forward timidly.
"Mabu, please… take it easy—"
"Don't you dare speak to me, woman, when I didn't ask for your opinion!" Chief Mabu barked.
Morgana froze instantly. She was holding a baby in her arms, while her little daughter clung tightly to her side as she sat on a wooden stool. Fear flashed across her face, and she dared not speak again. She knew better than to make her husband angrier than he already was.
Chief Mabu turned back to his son.
"And you, scumbag!" he growled. "For humiliating me in front of the entire clan… for failing to defeat Kuda in a mere fighting contest… for acting like a coward…" His voice thundered through the hall.
"I disown you!"
The words echoed painfully in Mikal's ears.
"No…" Mikal whispered weakly.
"I'm sorry, Father! Please forgive me!" he begged desperately.
"It's too late, Mikal," Chief Mabu said coldly. "I warned you long ago that only the strongest gets to rule this clan. But you allowed Kuda to take that honor away from you." He stepped closer, towering over the boy.
"You are no longer worthy to be a son of Montunoi. Leave. Get out—and never return!" "Father, please!" Mikal cried, grabbing his father's leg.
But Chief Mabu kicked him away violently. Mikal fell backward, his lip splitting open as blood flowed freely.
He looked toward his mother, hoping she would defend him.
But Morgana turned her face away, clutching the baby closer and pulling her daughter to her side.
Nothing could have been more devastating.
Rejected by both parents, Mikal slowly rose to his feet. Limping painfully, he walked out of the palace alone.
"Excuse me, sir!"
The voice snapped Oropher back to reality.
He blinked, realizing he was no longer in the past.
Standing before him was his secretary, Vicky.
"What is it?" Oropher asked, slowly swiveling his office chair to face him.
"I came to inform you that Vikings Hall delivered some documents for you earlier today, but you weren't in your office," Vicky said, placing several files on the desk.
"You should know better than that," Oropher said coldly. "Bringing documents to me at this time is useless. Officially, I'm done for the day. The office closes at six, and this is…"
"Quarter past eight, sir."
"I shouldn't have to remind you of that, Vicky. You've worked here long enough to know the rules."
"I apologize, sir. I just thought you might want to review them since you're still here, so you wouldn't have to reschedule today's work until tomorrow." "And who said I was complaining?" Oropher snapped.
"No one, sir!" Vicky said quickly. "I'll take my leave now."
He hurriedly gathered the files and scurried out of the office.
"You had better," Oropher muttered under his breath as he watched the door close.
He rose from his chair and walked toward the large transparent window overlooking the city.
The full moon hung high in the night sky.
A sly grin slowly spread across his face.
"Perfect timing," he whispered.
He snapped his fingers.
Instantly, his business suit dissolved into dark sorcerer's robes that shimmered with faint crimson patterns.
Oropher walked toward a large painting hanging on the wall—the Mona Lisa.
He lifted the frame and pulled the hidden lever behind it.
Immediately, the wall beside him split open with a low mechanical rumble, revealing a secret passageway illuminated by burning torches.
After securing his office, Oropher stepped inside.
The wall closed silently behind him.
He descended a narrow staircase that spiraled deep underground. His boots tapped rhythmically against the marble steps as he walked down toward his hidden lair.
Moments later, he reached the bottom.
A heavy iron door stood before him.
Oropher's eyes glowed red.
The door creaked open.
Inside, Claws—the massive eagle—instantly became alert, spreading its wings as if preparing to attack. But upon recognizing his master, the bird relaxed and flew toward a nearby shelf, grabbing a large spell book in its talons.
"Thank you, Claws," Oropher said.
He stepped toward a massive cauldron bubbling over an open fire.
Thick green steam rose from the boiling liquid, twisting through the air like ghostly fingers.
Oropher chuckled darkly.
Then he began to sing.
All is sublime in my doomy symphony
I'm optimistic that things will go the way I've planned
And the Ring of Orion which I crave will be mine, Mine! Haha! All its power will be mine.
When I think of what those brutes
Of a family did to me, I get a little riled—
But it soothes my inner devil
Knowing that I'll make them pay.
Bring on the spotlight,
Prepare for the battle!
Let the drums of war roll—
For the thrill of Oropher's mighty reign is here!
The world will be perfect in the lust of evil.
When I find the Viteens, make them pay I will.
The melody of their painful groans,
The sound of Roxanne's dying gasp—oh what joy it shall bring.
And I shall be as vile as Maleficent!
Suddenly, the cauldron began to rumble violently.
The potion was ready.
"Prepare, Claws!" Oropher shouted.
"For we are about to turn our fantasy into reality!" Thunder crashed.
Lightning flashed through the underground chamber.
Oropher raised his arms and chanted:
"Moon and sun reverse!
Time, tide, and sky turn back on the dial—
Ten thousand times!"
A thick mist filled the room, swirling around Oropher and Claws.
In an instant— They vanished.
Only the echoes of Oropher's wicked laughter and Claws' piercing screech lingered in the dark chamber.