☠

The air was heavy and musty with age as Nox followed the ancient stairs deep down into the earth. The stones beneath his feet were weathered with footsteps of all those that had come before him. He could feel every dent and scratch underneath his feet as he continued his descent. The torch he held in his hand only barely illuminated his way further into the old castle, but his wolf's eyes didn't need much light as he guided his pack towards the forgotten Hall of Kings.

     He heard their steady breathing behind him, the Matriarch of the Lycan House safely in their midst. It had been over a decade since all the Houses of Shadows had come together and despite the neutral ground they were on, Nox trusted the other Houses as much as he trusted the God of Night to protect them.

     Not one bit.

     As he descended the final steps, the blood red seats of the Council of Elders came into view. Each of them were placed on a platform raised several feet above his head, all six chairs opposite of one another, following the circular shape of the room. They were close enough together to hear each other without effort, but far enough apart to prevent bloodshed. Something that had occurred countless times throughout the ages between the Houses.

     Something that still tainted their shared history.

     The chandelier of candles on the marbled ceiling above him burned with an age-old magic that had long since left the other parts of Mithra. It spread a bright glow of light around the room, revealing the other Matriarchs and their Heirs already in their seats. Their sentries were all standing below the platforms, their teeth bared and weapons drawn. Nox growled at them in return.

     As Heir, he followed his Matriarch up the steps towards the seat that belonged to his House––the House of Ruelle. From the corner of his eyes, he could see all the other Matriarchs watching his grandfather with calculated looks, eying the ink black crown atop his head. A Crown that held the power to shape entire kingdoms, if not the whole world.

     It was called the Crown of Shadows and was forged in a time of peace between the Houses. A time when magic was still flowing through the cracks in the earth––when the humans had still been part of the Council and knew about the creatures now hiding in the shadows. Six powerful heirlooms of each of the Houses had been welded together to solidify the fragile truce. Ever since, though, there had been war after war and battle after battle for the power it held.

     For over two hundred years, the Crown had been in the strong hands of the House of Ruelle. Which meant, that out of all the people in the room, Nox' grandfather was the most powerful one of all. The responsibility to protect his Matriarch weighed heavily on his shoulders. Especially on a night like this.

     "Why have you called us here, Cain?" Morgana, the vampire Matriarch spoke, her voice infused with severity and wisdom. Though she looked not much past thirty winters, Nox knew she was much, much older than that.

     His grandfather slowly took a seat, letting his eyes pass all of the Houses before him. Despite the wars that had been waged amongst them for centuries, his grandfather had been able to create a stable agreement between them. Each House had their own lands within Mithra in which they had absolute power––in which they could be the kings and queens that they all craved to be. The only thing he asked in return was to stop the bloody wars that had divided them for centuries and to protect all creatures in their lands from the nightmares lurking in the darkness.

     Until now, no more battles had been fought and even the old Order of Protectors––the Keepers of the Crown––had been reinstated. Together with the other Heirs and their most trusted sentries, Nox was part of that order. They made sure all Houses honored their promises––punished them if necessary––and protected all people of Mithra from the creatures trying to tear the world apart.

     It was why his eyes immediately shot to Nyssa, the Heir of the Nymph House, when her mother and Matriarch spoke.

     "Perhaps he is tired of that Crown atop his head," she smiled wickedly, her skin almost glowing in the magical light of the grand hall. "Don't worry, Cain, I will gladly take it from you."

     Nox narrowed his eyes at her, weighing the threat she posed to the Crown and his grandfather. It had taken years to build the trust there was between them today––if he could even call it that––but he knew it could easily be broken. A single word or move could be enough. Though she didn't seem foolish enough to attack his House so openly on neutral ground, he kept his eyes on her nonetheless.

     Something he regretted a moment later.

     The nymph Matriarch was even more beautiful than all of the other nymphs. With her waving golden hair and star-speckled dark eyes, she was the most beautiful woman Nox had ever seen. He couldn't help his cheeks from warming underneath her gaze as she turned her eyes to him. Her lips curled even more when she noticed it.

     He swallowed hard, straightening his back. She was beautiful, yes, but the razor-sharp teeth that adorned her perfect lips in that horrifying smile were enough to make him shiver. More than one throat had been spilled on the floor with those teeth. Her enemies rarely knew they had walked into a deathtrap when taking her, or any of the other nymphs, to bed.

     The unicorns weren't much better. They were vain beyond measure and foolishly arrogant. In their human form, they were equally as beautiful as the nymphs––if not more so––but beneath their beauty there lurked something dark. He had heard stories once about the virgins that were led to their castles and were never seen again. They were powerful and feral and deadly. Nox was reminded of that when their Matriarch spoke in his melodic, deceitful voice.

     "Your skin is too pale to wear the Crown, Leonor. It is better suited on someone else."

     "On you, you mean?" the nymph laughed. "I think not, Arion."

     "Perhaps we should try it."

     Nox huffed out an annoyed breath, growling at them as a warning. They shot their eyes towards him for a moment, darkness glowing in their orbs like igniting embers. He could see the bloodlust even from where he stood. His grandfather needed to start the meeting sooner rather than later, otherwise blood would spill over the ancient marble stones of the hall.

     His pack growled too when the other sentries drew their weapons. As a promise, rather than a warning.

     "Keep your dogs on a leash, Cain. I'd hate to see our last meeting repeated," Morgana said, staring Nox down with her piercing, light brown eyes. Celyna, her daughter and Heir, did the same with an equally terrifying gaze. "Or do we have to curb them for you?"

     Nox bared his teeth in a snarl and wrapped his hands around the twin blades attached to his belt. He could sense that his pack beneath the platform was equally tensed, ready to shift into their wolf and rip and shred and tear their way out of the hall if needed.

     The relationship between lycans and vampires had always been the most strained of all. Their first war had lasted for years and countless lives had been lost. Even though there hadn't been any battles between them for years, blood had still been spilled.

     More times than Nox cared to remember.

     He had always thought it had something to do with their opposite natures. Where lycans lived and fought in loyal packs, the vampires were strung together in deceitful covens. Like Nox, the lycans were feral and wild, hot-tempered and often reckless. While the vampires, like Celyna, were graceful and scheming, restrained and filled with foolish pride. They were nothing alike. Yet, out of all the Houses, they had the most in common. Unlike the others, they had both been human once.

     Still, seeing Celyna standing beside her Matriarch with those judging eyes and her immortal grace, Nox could feel his blood boil.

     "No," his grandfather said seriously, shaking his head. An order more meant for Nox and his sentries to stand down, than for the plotting Houses on the other side of the room. Nox had never seen his Matriarch nervous or alarmed, but standing so close, to protect him against all threats, he could smell the faint fear seeping from his pores. "I did not call you here to bicker. We have more important matters to attend to."

     "Get on with it then," Leonor said, tapping her long nails on the armrest of her seat impatiently.

     As Nox let his eyes go through the room, taking in every little detail, he could see most of the Matriarchs and their Heirs were getting restless. Whatever it was his grandfather had summoned them here for, he indeed needed to get on with it. Even Nox himself felt uneasy. More so for the rising tensions than the information his grandfather was holding back from even him.

     "What is more important than the Crown?" Morvan, the Elven Matriarch cut in. He looked young as he sat in the large, red chair, and in immortal terms he was. He had only taken up the title of Matriarch several years ago when his uncle had died. Which was why he didn't know yet that questions like that could cost him his head if he wasn't careful.

     Nox sniffed the air and quickly realized it was real curiosity flowing through Morvan's veins, rather than his usual cunning and deceit. Nox looked at Verin, Morvan's sister and Heir, for a moment, but she too looked interested, even though she had her arms folded and stared at him with a fire burning in her eyes––a hint of mischief still there.

     That at least wasn't uncommon.

     The elves were thieves and liars and tricksters. It was said that one could never trust an elf, not even when they had given their word and sworn to uphold it. They were usually without honor and fought without mercy. Despite their pale, almost white, skin, their blood was black and their hearts cold. It made them a dangerous enemy. 

     One Nox still didn't quite understand, even though he had known Morvan and Verin for years.

     "Life is," the Lycan Matriarch said, waking Nox from his thoughts. He looked around the room and swallowed hard. "I'm afraid the past has caught up with us."

     Nox frowned, hearing the other Matriarchs sucking in a breath, their eyes wide. For a moment they all looked at the sixth, empty seat in the hall. The seat that had belonged to the humans before they had left the Council and, after several centuries, had forgotten about the darkness hiding in the shadows.

     The words lingered in the hall in a soft echo, making the hairs on Nox' arms stand on end. He looked at the other Heirs––his fellow Keepers––but only Celyna was looking at him, her usual indifferent and distant demeanor towards him failing. Concern flickered in her eyes and a questioning look frowned her brow, asking him without words if he knew what was going on.

     Nox could only slowly shake his head, in ignorance and denial, as his grandfather spoke the words all Houses had dreaded since the end of the Great War several centuries ago.

     "Dark times are upon us," Cain said, his voice calm, yet Nox could feel the vibrations of fear in the air. Not only coming from his grandfather but all the others in the room as well. He didn't realize he too was holding his breath until the Lycan Matriarch finished and even the shadows around them stirred.

     "The Dark King has returned and the Dead are rising."

☠

So, what are your thoughts on Nox and the other characters?

Does the world make sense so far?

Please don't forget to vote and comment!

The story continues in the next chapter :)

☠

Word count 2010 

Copyright © Cameron R. Lewis