Chapter 110 110

Chapter 110 110
Unknown POV

Inside the dark room, the temperature had dropped far below normal, turning the air sharp and biting. Every breath that entered the lungs felt cold enough to sting. Shadows clung to the walls like living things, thick and restless, while the silence itself seemed unnatural. Even the darkness in that chamber carried a presence of its own... heavy, oppressive, and deeply unsettling.
Yet when Galen led a group of pack members into the room, their reactions were nothing like fear.
They looked around in wonder.
“This is like paradise,” one she-wolf exclaimed, spinning slowly in place with delight brightening her face. “It feels so refreshing here!”
Galen forced a smile at her words, though unease coiled in his chest. The illusion spell had worked perfectly.
The room should have appeared dreadful to them... a frozen chamber of shadows and menace... but instead, the enchantment twisted their senses. Where there was rot, they saw beauty. Where there was terror, they felt comfort. Where darkness lurked, they believed sunlight poured.
“Did you like what you see?” Galen asked, masking his discomfort.
The group nodded eagerly, their faces glowing with admiration.
“Yes!” another woman chirped. “But… how did we get here? We were just in the pack house hallway moments ago. What happened?”
At that question, Galen’s smile stiffened.
His gaze drifted toward the far end of the room where an old man sat cross-legged in silence, half-hidden by shadow. His robes pooled around him like spilled ink, and though he appeared motionless, the air around him trembled faintly with power.
“You are a curious one, aren’t you?” the old man said.
His voice was dry and soft, yet it reached every corner of the chamber.
The group startled and turned toward him, confusion clouding their faces. None of them had noticed him there before.
The old man raised one thin hand and crooked a finger toward the she-wolf who had spoken.
“Come here.”
She hesitated only a moment before stepping forward, still under the charm of the room.
“Why did you ask me to... ”
Her words died when he leaned close and began whispering strange syllables into her ear.
The language was ancient and warped, each word sounding like bone scraping against stone. As he chanted, the light in the girl’s eyes faded. Her smile disappeared. Her expression emptied until she looked like a shell wearing human skin.
The others gasped and stumbled backward.
“What did you do to her?”
“Let’s go!” Several tried to run. None of them moved.
Their feet remained fixed to the floor as though roots had burst from their ankles into the stone beneath them. Panic spread instantly. Some tugged wildly at their legs. Others screamed. One man began sobbing.
The old man ignored them.
One by one, he summoned each person forward and whispered the same twisted incantations into their ears.
One by one, terror vanished from their faces. One by one, their eyes became hollow.
When he finished, the entire group stood in eerie silence, shoulders straight, expressions blank, hands hanging limply at their sides.
“You all work for me now,” the old man said calmly. “There will be no laziness. No hesitation. No mercy.”
His eyes gleamed in the dark.
“Whoever I command you to ruin, you will ruin completely. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Master,” they chorused in perfect unison.
Their voices were flat, lifeless, unnatural.
“We will only listen to you.”
A cruel smile tugged at the old man’s lips. His plan had succeeded.
He had not merely bewitched them... he had tampered with their memories, broken the walls of their minds, and rebuilt obedience where free will once lived. From this moment onward, they would not think for themselves unless he allowed it. Their hands, voices, and choices belonged to him.
They were no longer pack members. They were pawns.
And he intended to use every one of them until nothing remained. Galen swallowed hard.
“What happened to them?” he asked carefully, unable to hide his unease. “I thought we agreed you would only prepare them for what is coming.”
The old man waved a dismissive hand.
“I merely made small adjustments to their minds. Do not trouble yourself over details.”
Galen looked at the motionless group and knew that was a lie.
Still, what could he do?
He had served the man too long to mistake his cruelty. Challenging him now would be the same as volunteering for death.
“I am done with them,” the old man said. “Take them back.”
Galen bowed slightly and turned to guide the bewitched pack members toward the exit.
“You,” the old man called suddenly.
Everyone froze.
He pointed to the first she-wolf... the curious one.
“Stay.”
She stepped away from the group at once, her face still empty.
The old man motioned for the others to leave. Once the door shut behind them, he gestured for her to come closer.
“You seem bold,” he murmured. “I have a special task for someone like you.”
Again he leaned near her ear and whispered.
This time, the words were darker.
The room itself reacted. The torches along the wall flickered violently. Frost spread across the stone floor in jagged lines. The walls groaned as though something trapped inside them wanted out.
The girl’s eyes turned completely black.
Not dark brown. Not shadowed. Black. Every trace of white vanished. Even Galen, standing near the door, felt his blood run cold.
The old man continued chanting until the air became nearly impossible to breathe. Then suddenly he stopped.
“And that is all.”
He released her.
Her eyes returned to normal at once, though the blankness remained.
“You may go now.”
The girl bowed stiffly. “Yes, Master.”
She turned and walked from the room with slow, measured steps, like a doll wound by invisible hands.
Galen stared after her. He was no longer merely uneasy. He was afraid.
“What did you do to her?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
The old man chuckled softly.
“I sent her on an errand. Is there a problem?”
Galen hesitated, then shook his head.
“No… only…” He swallowed. “I just think perhaps we should not involve innocent people in this.”
The old man’s expression hardened.
“We are preparing for what is to come.”
“But can we truly control what is coming?” Galen asked quietly.
The old man turned away and faced the wall.
He knew better than anyone that disaster could not be stopped.
But if destruction was inevitable, then power could still be claimed before it arrived.
He wanted safety. He wanted influence. He wanted to stand above the ashes when everyone else burned.
“Disaster is bound to happen,” he muttered under his breath. “So there is no harm in helping it arrive sooner.”
Galen’s eyes widened.
“Master… I trust you, but I still do not think we should involve the innocent, and... ”
His voice strangled off.
Invisible pressure crushed around his throat.
Galen clawed at the air, gasping, unable to breathe as his body lifted slightly from the ground.
The old man slowly turned, his eyes blazing with malice.
“Never speak to me of innocence, Galen.”
His voice thundered through the room.
“No one in this world is innocent.”
The pressure tightened. “Everyone deserves to perish.”
Galen’s vision blurred. His lungs screamed. Just when darkness threatened to swallow him, the grip vanished.
He crashed onto the floor, coughing violently as air rushed back into his chest.
“I think,” the old man said coldly, “that lesson is enough to teach you not to run your mouth.”
Shaking, weak, and drenched in sweat, Galen forced himself upright. Every instinct in him screamed to flee, but fear drove him to kneel instead.
“I am sorry, Master,” he rasped. “It will not happen again.”
The old man gave a lazy nod. “That is enough. Leave.”
He waved one hand dismissively and closed his eyes, returning to meditation as though nothing had happened.
Galen rose on trembling legs and walked toward the door.
But before stepping out, he looked back once more at the old man’s turned back.
His expression darkened. Suspicion burned behind his fear.
For the first time, Galen wondered whether serving this man would destroy them all long before any foretold disaster ever arrived.