Silas led the Inquisitor and ten of his highest-ranking Paladins out of the Great Hall. The remaining forty were ordered to wait in the freezing courtyard, heavily supervised by Kaelen's snarling Lycan guards.
I stood beside Kaelen on the dais, watching the heavy wooden doors close behind the Council's men. The moment the latch clicked shut, I let out a long, shuddering breath, my legs trembling slightly as I reigned in the massive output of energy.
"You performed magnificently," Kaelen murmured, his arm wrapping around my waist to steady me. He pulled me close, burying his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. "You tasted their fear. You fed on it. You are a natural tyrant, Elena."
"He's going to the Whispering Cells," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Xander is down there. If Vance finds him, the Council will have their casus belli. It will mean outright war."
Kaelen pulled back slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming with a dark, chaotic brilliance. "Do you truly believe I would let a Council lapdog find something I wish to remain hidden in my own home? The Shadowkeep is not just a building of stone and mortar, little wolf. It is a living, breathing entity forged from the blood of my ancestors."
He turned and gestured to a massive, ancient tapestry hanging behind the Throne of Ash. "Come. Let me show you what the Inquisitor is seeing."
[Point of View Shift: Inquisitor Vance]
The descent into the lower levels of the Shadowkeep was a suffocating, claustrophobic nightmare.
Vance held his silver-inlaid lantern high, but the light seemed to be swallowed by the unnatural darkness just a few feet ahead. The air was freezing, thick with the stench of ancient rot and something metallic that tasted suspiciously like old blood.
Silas walked ahead of them, completely unbothered, his footsteps making absolutely no sound on the damp stone stairs.
"The dungeons of the Lycan Kings are quite extensive, Inquisitor," Silas called back, his calm, academic voice echoing eerily in the stairwell. "Many of these tunnels haven't been opened in centuries. I advise your men to stay close. The architecture has a habit of... shifting."
Vance gritted his teeth, his hand white-knuckling his sword. "Just take us to the holding cells, Gamma. We have no interest in your ghost stories."
They reached the bottom of the spiraling stairs. Before them stood a massive iron door, rusted shut, covered in thick, pulsing black mold. Silas didn't touch the handle. He simply pressed his palm against the stone wall next to it, murmuring a word in a guttural, forgotten language.
The iron door shrieked as it scraped open, revealing a long, narrow corridor lined with heavy iron-bar cells.
Vance marched forward, his Paladins fanning out behind him, their holy weapons drawn. "Spread out! Check every cell! Look for the Blackclaw Alpha or his entourage!"
The Paladins moved quickly, their heavy boots splashing in the shallow, freezing water that coated the floor. Vance held his lantern up to the first cell.
Empty. Only a pile of molding straw and a rusted chain bolted to the wall.
He moved to the next. Empty.
The next. Empty.
"Clear!" one of the Paladins echoed from the far end of the hall. "Nothing here, Commander! The cells haven't been used in decades. There is an inch of undisturbed dust on the locks."
Vance frowned, his sharp eyes scanning the corridor. Something was wrong. The air felt too heavy. He could feel the chaotic, oppressive magic of the Lycan territory pressing against his skull, giving him a migraine.
"Where are the hidden levels?" Vance demanded, turning on Silas. "This is a facade. I can smell the dark magic radiating from the floorboards!"
Silas pushed his spectacles up his nose, offering a polite, entirely hollow smile. "You are standing in the lowest level of the Shadowkeep, Inquisitor. Below us is only solid bedrock and the magma veins of the mountain. You are sensing the ambient magic of the wards that keep the structural integrity intact."
Vance marched right up to Silas, grabbing the lapels of the Gamma's immaculate suit. "Do not play games with me, beast! Alpha Xander's scent led directly to your gates! Where is he?"
Silas didn't flinch. He simply looked down at Vance's hands, his pale blue eyes flashing dangerously. "I would advise you to release me, Inquisitor. The King granted you safe passage to search. He did not grant you permission to assault his officers."
A low, collective growl echoed from the dark corners of the corridor. Vance's Paladins suddenly backed up, raising their swords. Through the gloom, the massive, hunched silhouettes of Lycan guards detached themselves from the shadows, their claws scraping against the stone, completely surrounding the Council's men.
Vance swallowed his pride and slowly released Silas's suit, stepping back.
He looked down the long, empty row of cells one last time. There was no sign of Xander. No scent of the Blackclaw pack. Nothing but dust, shadows, and the overwhelming feeling that he was standing in the mouth of a leviathan that was just waiting for an excuse to snap its jaws shut.
"We are leaving," Vance spat, turning on his heel. "But this is not over, Gamma. Tell your King that the Council does not forget."
As Vance marched back toward the stairs, he failed to notice that the wall beside the third cell was slightly distorted, shimmering like a mirage over hot asphalt. He walked right past it, his silver armor brushing against the illusion, entirely unaware of the nightmare unfolding mere inches away from his face.