The Road of No Return
"Damn it... Zeco, I really don't know what to do anymore," Violet whispered, her voice trembling like someone standing at the edge of a cliff, praying for even a flicker of light to guide her.
Zeco didn't respond right away. He bowed his head in silence, his mind drifting to a memory—his brother Murphy's voice, long gone, yet still echoing within.
He slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes sharpened with purpose. "Take that path," he said, firm and unyielding.
In a secret chamber smothered in darkness, only the faint gleam of a floating magic orb pierced the gloom. Jester stood in the center, cloaked in shadows like a monarch of ruin.
"Where are they now?" he asked, his voice cold and devoid of warmth.
"At the moment, her soul is weakening. Whether by illness... or something worse, I can't say. My magic can no longer locate her spiritual essence clearly," answered a robed man, his hands weaving through an endless ritual.
Jester's eyes narrowed. "And the other Elemental Users? You've made sure they won't interfere?"
"Everything is unfolding just as you planned, Jester. Not a single one can interfere. The island is sealed completely—no creature from beyond its borders can set foot here. All thanks to the High Ones... who now stand where you once did."
Jester grinned. A small laugh slipped from his throat, then bloomed into manic cruelty.
"Ha... Hahaha... HAHAHAHA! You'll die by my hands, bastard," he muttered, staring at the ceiling with bloodthirsty eyes.
They took the shortcut. A road shunned even in broad daylight, and now they dared to cross it as dusk decayed into night.
Two hours passed in uneasy silence. But when the last ember of sunlight vanished, danger arrived.
"Sir, Miss... be ready," said the Uncle, his voice calm but sharp. "If we can't withstand their attack, we retreat. This place does not negotiate."
Violet nodded slowly, then glanced at Zeco. Their eyes met, heavy with unspoken truth.
"All right, Uncle. Don't worry. We're ready," she replied.
Then night swallowed them whole. Silence, once merely unsettling, turned truly alive. A howl rose from the hill—long, deep, and marrow-chilling.
Wolves.
From every direction, they came—arctic wolves, monstrous and wild, like living myths. They attacked. The carriage rattled violently. Uncle fought for control, reins taut as he dodged trees and snapped branches.
"They're coming!" Violet shouted, her hand pointing behind. Her breath hitched as she saw the white blurs surging like a storm.
Zeco gripped his sword. In his mind, Murphy's final words stirred:
"Be my eyes out there. Protect them. But also... find your own answer."
He turned to Violet, his gaze firm.
Violet flung open the carriage door. The night wind roared in, cold and biting, full of snow and danger.
"Take care of yourself, Zeco... I... trust you," she said, her voice nearly drowned by the rush of wheels.
Zeco gave her a slow nod. "This is my stage. And now... it's time for me to dance among the wolves."
With one breath, he jumped. Sword drawn. Into the dark.
Just as the door began to shut, something flew free—a newspaper Violet had kept, now torn loose by the sudden jolt.
Violet reached for it—too late.
"Damn... no... he mustn't see that..."
The paper floated down like a cursed leaf, landing before Zeco's feet.
He glanced at it.
Mid-battle, heart thundering, he read.
"MURPHY THE LEGEND EXECUTED — MAJOR VIOLATION THAT DESTROYED VIKING BROTHERHOOD."
Zeco froze. His hand slackened. The tip of his sword dipped. Time halted.
But wolves do not wait for human hearts.
From the dark, they leapt.