The mansion was draped in shadows as I moved slowly along the corridor, unhurried, yet alert to every creak and echo...on my way to my room, but I wasn't hasty about it. I wanted to linger around a bit; the mansion felt unsettling.
The atmosphere slowly dropped, the hallway stretched out too far, and the architectural structure felt tampered with.
I kept my pace on the same level.
As I reached the end of the corridor, I stepped forward.
The setting subtly changed from beneath my feet, the polished marble gradually gave way to a carpet of moss and leaves, the mansion bleeding into the forest.
It threaded the mansion away slowly, revealing the forest, trees, and hums of birds. It was awfully enticing to watch, not that my mind didn't linger on the mystery; whatever it is, I want to confront it, not run.
And there it was: a manly figure stood ahead of me, tall, broad-shouldered, with long dark hair.
He stood there, unmoving, his gaze steady, revealing nothing...simply waiting, as though the night itself obeyed him.
I walked to him slowly, keeping my pace, "You breached my estate." I said declaring the boundaries and line drawn.
It was him; he was the missing piece in my puzzle.
"You moved the boundary." He stated.
I stopped at a far point, giving a wide space between the both of us. "How?
What brought you here at this time?" I asked; he simply moved forward; he didn't respond. He slowly studied me, the scar on my neck and the dagger pouch on my thigh.
"What do you want from me? Or wasn't it you at the party? Wasn't it you during the war?" I asked calmly.
He looked me in the eyes. "You survived what should have marked you."
"What do you mean? "Survival is part of my job, so be more specific," I said.
"You emerged unharmed, against what should have been inevitable…" he exhaled sharply, the weight of the statement lingering.
"You crossed my territory before realizing it…" He paused, "My wife died that night." His gaze was stale and cold, no emotion held or carried in the sound of his voice.
"The wolf at the war scene, it was I.
The reason you're here, the reason you're breathing, is because I let you, and you know that either way. You carry something that belongs to my lineage; I need it back." His voice is still and structured.
"You want me to believe that I'm tied to your loss?" I questioned.
"No, you're tied to the threshold," he corrected.
Silence fell.
He paced around me…
"Do you know what the dagger is for?
It's not created for killing alone; that's not its true purpose. It cuts between realms, unites and controls species…" He stopped.
"Stop feeding me with all these lies; just go straight ahead to the point… What do you truly want?" I asked him.
"You felt it during the game, yes?" He looked at me directly.
I did; I felt a force. It was draining on me and the way the figures reacted to it. It wasn't only at the game; I felt it most times.
I kept silent.
"Did you ask what I truly want?" He continued, "It's simple, hand over the dagger."
"No, I won't." I wasn't about to give my dad's most treasured object to an acclaimed werewolf.
He didn't stupidly try to take it; a part of me thought he would.
"You don't believe me." He instead said with a knowing look on his face.
Of course I wouldn't; all he said made sense if I were to think about it supernaturally, which would be stupid, although it aligned some fragments of the puzzle.
"Follow me," he instructed, disappearing effortlessly into the dense trees, and I had no choice but to keep pace behind him.
I was definitely going to follow him; I had to be sure this wasn't some fool's play, and if it was, I had other plans for that.
We moved through the forest trees; the night air was a pleasure, but the feeling in my chest sucked. I wanted to get to the bottom of all the hooks and drama so badly.
The tree's branches parted ways, allowing him to pass through; a fractured part of my mind slowly began to believe him, but I wasn't quite convinced yet.
He moved effortlessly; he knew the parts like they were part of him. I kept my pace, trying hard not to fall behind.
The air shifted whenever I drew near.
He suddenly shifted to my side; he came close…too close. I could feel his breath on my skin. "Stay within the line." He said in a low tone by my ear.
I breathed in loudly; he then turned and continued moving. I followed him closely.
I moved faster, probably too fast.
He halted once more and stepped in front of me.
His closeness was unbearable this time with our eyes locked merely inches away from each other.
"If you cross without me, you won't return." He stated.
...
We reached a clearing.
The floor seemed carved but natural at the same time.
The air hums.
"The base is not a place, it's a crossing," he said. "Give me the dagger." He stretched out his hands.
I refused.
He then stepped closer, our eyes locking. "You want the truth? This is exactly where it starts."
I decided to allow him, not because I wanted to or I trusted him… I just didn't want to conform to ignorance.
I handed him the dagger without removing my grip from it.
He placed it on the soil, and it fractures, light cracks through.
Light fractured across the soil like fractured lightning, and the ground beneath us seemed to sway subtly.
He stepped through and I followed behind.
The realm was ancient; its structure and interior screamed it. Vines threaded the walls and above; it added to the settings. The moonlight shone through fragments of openings above.
He stopped in the middle of the hall; the setting was familiar and clear. The boarding school encounter wasn't just a distortion; a huge opening was above our heads where the moonlight reflected brightly.
"They're here." He said.
"Wh–" It was them.
The old men in giant fur coats, their eyes carried power and stories, ancient stories. Nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks.
One of the elders moves closer and examines the dagger in my hands. "It has chosen!" The elder announces to the rest.
He stiffened beside me at the sound of that; the four other elders were openly shocked.
I was curious to know, "Chosen what?" I asked him.