Chapter 101 Chapter One Hundred and One

Chapter 101 Chapter One Hundred and One
Sylvan gestured for Nikolai to follow. He strode through the stone hallways toward the dungeon where Gregory’s latest act of treachery took place. He walked through the entrance and was met with the black guard dragon. It lowered its head to the ground, placing its red eyes level with Sylvan’s silver gaze. Hot breath fanned Sylvan’s face and wove through his hair as the dragon weighed his threat level. The dragon’s eyes moved to the tattoo on his arm and snorted softly before lifting its head and looking away, its focus returning to the other dragon in the chamber. 

Sylvan stepped around the black dragon and walked with purpose toward where the guards were removing the chains from Teresa’s dragon. He knew that could only mean one thing: Gregory had succeeded in ending the beast’s life and Teresa would soon follow. Upon his approach, the dragon guards turned and scowled.

“Have you found the blade?” Sylvan asked, knowing to expect hostility. 

“You mean the blade you had no business in having?” one soldier asked, taking a few threatening steps closer that made Nikolai come forward to defend his alpha.

“The blade was seized from a collection in Mariseth held by Alpha Slade," Nikolai explained. "You should be grateful it was in Prince Sylvan’s possession rather than in the hands of the latter."

The guard’s glare swiveled between the two Eredhalians. “Yes, grateful is what I am.”

“Have you found it or not?” Sylvan growled.

“Michael,” the guard barked. The guard named Michael procured the blade from his belt but did not hand it over. “What do you want with it?”

“Relax,” Sylvan said, holding his hand out. “You can keep the relic. It belongs to your people. I merely want the scent of the fucker who used it to kill the mythical creature for the sake of saving his own skin.”

Michael flipped the blade around so Sylvan could take the handle. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply. His wolf sifted through the scents and locked onto the one he needed. He felt his senses sharpen along with the crawling sensation of his wolf moving beneath his skin, demolishing the part of himself capable of rational thought and leaving behind the other part which held only one motivation: hunt. 

Sylvan doubled over as the bones along his spine cracked and realigned. He groaned with the force with which the shift took over. The groan turned to a howl as his wolf took complete control. The black dragon roared, sensing the new threat in its territory. As Sylvan’s wolf sprinted through the chamber, Gregory’s scent filled his nostrils. He snarled and snapped his teeth while dodging the dragon’s swinging tail and the breath of fire it spewed in Sylvan’s direction. 

Sylvan broke through the door of the dungeon, tumbling over himself, his fur slightly singed. He didn’t stop. With Nikolai’s wolf on his heels, Sylvan tore through the tunnels of the conclave, Gregory’s scent thick enough to visualize. The traitor had shifted after killing the red dragon. He thought he could outrun his punishment. He was wrong.
Sylvan’s wolf ran through the entryway to the conclave, past the group of stunned Deveraux elders. One of the dragon guards was apprising them of the situation. Breckenridge broke into a run, heading toward the child he had left vulnerable time and time again as if there was still time to beg for forgiveness. Sylvan would deal with him later.

The news had already spread to the streets of Deveraux. The loss of a dragon rider was heartbreaking. Losing her dragon… was devastation. So few were the dragons already, the symbol of these people, the protection, the lifeblood, that to lose one was calls for weeks of mourning. There would be no bonfires tonight. There would be no merriment or festivities for weeks. There would only be the loss. 

Sylvan kept this at the forefront of his wolf’s mind, reminding his beast that he could not be selfish in this moment. Yes, in most cases, the traitor would be dealt with by his own hands. The torture would be great; the postponement of death would linger on until the traitor could no longer differentiate the line between life and death. But this particular traitor had committed a sin worse than betrayal; he had killed the closest thing to a god on this earth. 

Sylvan’s wolf sprinted into the woods bordering the city. Gregory had done a mediocre job covering his tracks. Then again, Sylvan’s bonding with Isla had brought about a new measure of senses unable to be hindered by rolling in mud or tracking through water. Mixed in with the scent of Gregory’s wolf, there was a buzz, a live wire like the electricity that pulsed through the air after a lightning strike. It raised the fur along Sylvan’s coat as he ran through it in his pursuit. Though Gregory had nearly fifteen to twenty minutes' head start, it took half of that to catch up to him. Nikolai howled behind him, both with excitement in closing in on his prey and to alert said prey that his time was limited. Normally, such a boastful call would not be tolerated on a hunt. But in this case, Sylvan not only encouraged it, he smiled to himself as his wolf joined in. 

Let the bastard know they were closing in. Let him pick up his pace, disguise his scent. Let the fear claim his pathetic heart and drive him to insanity with the knowledge that his life was near its end. Nikolai came abreast of his alpha, a feat that could only be done through sheer adrenaline.

Let’s have some fun, Sylvan linked his beta, who answered with another howl as he broke off, veering right. 

It was an instinct within the wolf species to hunt as a pack. Though Sylvan hardly released his wolf, when he did it was always in the company of his beta. As a pair, the two chased deer, hunted boar and elk. They practiced battle scenarios, trained soldiers, all in the maze that was the woods around Eredhal. In the woods, they were in their natural element, and it showed quickly as they closed in on Gregory. 

Gregory was a fine soldier; he had risen through the ranks through loyalty and a willingness to obey every order, even to the detriment of his own safety. He did not rise through the ranks by skill. Soon, his scent was potent enough to make Sylvan’s wolf growl with expectation. When he was within sight, Sylvan broke left. He glimpsed a grey blur racing across the woods, cutting Gregory off before disappearing again: Nikolai. 

Sylvan howled before racing up behind Gregory. The wolf spun to face his challenger only to find no one was there. Sylvan had leapt right behind an outcropping of boulders. Gregory’s wolf snarled and continued running toward the mountains just ahead. This time, Nikolai ran parallel to Gregory’s wolf, a few hundred feet to the left, jumping over fallen logs, weaving between trees. Gregory, upon seeing him, turned sharply right, changing course. Sylvan’s wolf snarled and snapped his teeth, a noise picked up by Gregory who took another sharp turn, heading directly where Sylvan and Nikolai were herding him. 

Before long, he’d fallen right into their trap. They’d pushed him into a valley. The only form of escape was up a steep embankment of loose rocks, in which one misstep would bring the entire cliffside down upon them. Despite this, Gregory’s wolf took his chances with the rocks. Sylvan’s wolf was of the same mind. He lunged upward with no care for foot placement as he went after the traitor. Rocks tumbled down, both wolves fought for footing while Nikolai whined and yelped at the bottom, concerned for the safety of his alpha, driven by his crazed wolf. 

Gregory’s wolf stumbled and fell several feet. Sylvan jumped sideways, avoiding the avalanche of rocks but continuing his ascent, his focus singular. Gregory scrambled upward, his wolf’s panic evident in the hurried way its claws scratched and fumbled for a foothold. Sylvan could feel the sharp edges of the cliffside cutting into his paws, but it did nothing to slow his wolf down. Then he was within reach. One risky maneuver. One daring lunge. Sylvan’s wolf launched through the air and landed on top of Gregory. Gregory’s wolf yelped as Sylvan's bit into the scruff of his neck. Gregory threw his head to the side, his teeth snapping in an attempt to dislodge the alpha’s iron grip. In doing so, his footing slipped. Sylvan’s added weight tipped backward, and the two wolves fell.

The sound of toppling rocks falling over each other drowned out the grunts and yelps from the two wolves as they were hurled down the treacherous cliffside. Sylvan lost his grip on Gregory as a boulder knocked him on the shoulder and the back of the head. His world blackened for a moment as he was swallowed by the dissolving cliffside. He only knew he’d reached the bottom when the noise subsided. 

Sylvan! Nikolai called through the mindlink. Sylvan, answer me!

In the distance, he could hear Nikolai’s claws raking at the pile of fallen rocks. They tumbled as Nikolai tried with all ‌his might to unearth his fallen alpha. Sylvan’s wolf inhaled, searching for Gregory’s scent. It was nearby, and it was tainted with copper. He shifted his shoulders and tried to raise his head. Beside him, more rocks moved from something trying to free itself. Sylvan growled, knowing he had to get out from under the avalanche before Gregory did. The rocks shuddered as the two wolves fought to get out. 

Gregory’s wolf broke free first. Nikolai’s bark of warning echoed across the still valley. Sylvan could make out the clambering of his feet as he tried to maneuver over the pile of rocks to get to Gregory before he made a second escape attempt. His rush was unnecessary, however, as just after Gregory broke free, so did Sylvan. Red, not from anger but from blood, blurred his vision as he lunged forward yet again and gripped the back of Gregory’s neck. His teeth sank into soft fur and then broke through flesh as he locked his jaw. Gregory yelped and thrashed against Sylvan’s grip. Tired of this fight, Sylvan’s wolf slung his head back, carrying Gregory with it, and then flung it sharply forward before releasing his hold. Gregory’s wolf was launched into a boulder, his head cracking against the rock with a resounding sound that echoed across the valley. The hit was hard enough to force the shift from wolf to human. Sylvan limped toward him, still in wolf form. 

Gregory groaned as he sat up against the rock, awaiting his judgement. “She was going to die no matter what,” he said, his voice weak and hoarse. Sylvan continued to move closer. “I had orders to… to dispose of the dragon cunt and her beast.” Nikolai was behind Sylvan now, in formation to back up his alpha when needed. Sylvan lowered his head and growled at the traitor, who merely chuckled, ready for death. “They knew she wouldn’t do it. Kill you. Or them,” he said with a bob of his head to Nikolai. “I wasn’t supposed to kill her. Your mate,” he spat before smiling, his teeth coated in his blood. “The council forbade it. But I was going to. The rightful king, Tristan, demanded it.”

Sylvan knew precisely what the fucker was doing. He wanted to die. He wanted it quickly. He was trying to provoke, and while it was working on his wolf, his human side was reminding the beast that Gregory was not for them to kill. Sylvan stopped a foot away from Gregory’s human body, shaking from its unavoidable shock response. 

“Go on then,” Gregory coaxed, lifting his chin to provide a perfect angle for Sylvan’s wolf to tear out his jugular. Do it, he whispered through the mindlink.

Sylvan’s wolf shivered, and Gregory’s eyes widened as, for the first time, he witnessed the alpha wolf give over control to the human prince. Within only ten seconds, Sylvan stood on two legs, his silver gaze staring down at the man who had betrayed him in ways he’d never fully know. He smiled at the look of shock on the soldier’s face. 

“You’ve killed a dragon of Deveraux. A crime not committed in hundreds of years.” Sylvan squatted down. “Do you know why that is, Gregory?” The man didn’t respond. Sylvan smirked. “Of course you do. That’s why you were offering your neck to my wolf.” He leaned forward. “And why you are close to shitting yourself at the fact that I wouldn’t let him do it.”