Chapter 17

Damon, the embodiment of Kronos, also held within him the legacy of the Royal Grey wolf, Zeus, a magnificent creature intricately tied to the royal bloodline. This possession set him apart from Aiden, the crown prince, who found himself bonded with an ordinary wolf, intensifying the complexity of their familial dynamics. King Darius, Damon's father, had faced a dilemma. He was unable to take decisive action against Damon due to the significance of Zeus in the royal lineage.

Zeus, Damon's wolf, stood out, it was larger in size and twice more lethal, dwarfing other wolves in comparison.

This remarkable trait should have solidified Damon's position in the royal hierarchy. However, the coexistence of Damon with Kronos within the same body presented challenges for Zeus, often being overshadowed by the dominant Lycan presence of Kronos.

That night however, Damon discovered a newfound synergy that made shifting into his wolf form more seamless and rapid, thanks to the strange dormant stillness of Kronos.

Rapidly shifting to Zeus, he wreck havoc on the hellhounds.

After hours of struggle against the hellhounds, a different, more ominous presence emerged. The Barghest, sensing the approach of this formidable entity, reluctantly backed away from the space. Zeus, stood it's place,panting, his once majestic mane now marred by blood and minor scratches. The other hellhounds, intimidated by the newcomer, swiftly scattered in retreat. It was evident that this hound was unlike the others, radiating an aura of malevolence and heightened danger.

Zeus could sense this one was dangerous. It had a deathly foreboding aura. It was larger and meaner looking than the others but more menacing appearance, the hound refrained from any form of aggression. Instead, it stood in place for some moments then stalked around before decisively walking away.

This encounter raised an unsettling realization – if there were more of these kind of beings, a profound and imminent threat loomed.

Barging into the king's inner chamber with the severed head of the hound who had bitten into him. Damon relayed the details of the encounter with the other hound. The council, comprised of the King's of the other six kingdoms listened intently, absorbing the gravity of the situation.

"Can you describe the other hound you saw, your majesty?" inquired an elderly man, his head adorned with a crown of silver hair. Hailing from the northern kingdom and boasting over a century of wisdom, he approached with a keen interest. Damon calmly provided a swift and detailed description.

As the council absorbed Damon's account, the old man's expression shifted from curiosity to alarm. The air in the room grew heavy with the weight of impending danger.

"For the harbinger of death to have manifested, I believe the Enchantresses is nigh, specifically for the werewolves this time," Christoff stated, his voice carrying the weight of what seemed like centuries of knowledge and experience. The men in the room, however, met his proclamation with skepticism, some even bursting into laughter in dismissal.

"What is your name?" King Darius inquired, seeking to understand the origins of this unconventional insight.

"Christoff," the old man replied Calmly.

"Well, Christoff, your suggestion is outrageous. For the enchantress to be reborn, there must be signs," Darius retorted, his tone a blend of seriousness and dismissal

Besides, it is practically impossible. The Enchantress is a myth.

"And you say they weren't sings?" Christoff countered in a slur fixing a penetrating gaze on the King. Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, the monarch shifted in his seat.

"None. There are no signs. And no apparitions," the king affirmed with unwavering certainty.

"Or do you know of any?" The king asked.

Christoff remained silent his heading bobbing back and forward lightly.

"The question we should consider is: Why would the hellhounds, which had seemingly banished themselves far away from the lands, suddenly return?" another elder interjected, injecting a note of genuine concern into the discussion. The room fell into a contemplative silence, each member of the council grappling with the implications of the recent events.

"I apologize, Sire," the King of the Northern Kingdom said, stepping forward with an air of diplomatic grace.

"This is nothing but a senile old man from my kingdom. He seems to be drunk," the man stated, bringing attention to the apparent state of inebriation that clouded the old man's senses. A closer observation confirmed the assertion; the old man was clearly intoxicated.

The room's atmosphere shifted from tension to amusement as the men chuckled at the unexpected turn of events. "He was spouting nonsense, obviously," another council member concurred, echoing the sentiment with a dismissive smirk.

"What Enchantress?" queried another skeptic, casting doubt on the validity of the old man's claims. Laughter rippled through the assembly, dismissing the notion as the product of a clouded mind.

At ease with the collective skepticism, Darius stood firm in his resolve. "We will assemble a fleet of warriors, whose main purpose will be defeating or driving those hounds back to where they came from,so as to see that everyone returns home safely."he declared, his authoritative voice cutting through the skeptical murmurs. The gravity of the situation demanded swift action, and the King sought to rally his forces against an unprecedented threat.

"And just to be on a safe side, another fleet. The seven kingdom finest knights, would get to the bottom of the issue of these hounds. The bearer of death as well." The king said.

The men in the room murmured in agreement. Something had to be done about the hounds.

"That's why I summoned you all here tonight. Prince Damon, as usual, will lead this fleet," the King announced, his gaze settling on his second son. Damon remained rooted with an unreadable expression.

"And the issue of the rumors or the enchantress?" One of the king asked.

"Have they really been no signs?" The man asked skeptically.

"Oh King Jesse. A little midnight tale by a drunk senile old man is enough to leave you shake up." The King of the Northern kingdom teased.

"There is nothing wrong in playing it safe." The man countered annoyed with the jesting.

"The issue of the Berserked wolves on the other hand, posses an even bigger problem." One of them stated.

"It's like madness. You can't tell who's next."

"I have resolved to killing the wolves as they turn berserk. We can't have some mad ones running loose and destroying what we've worked for." Another king suggested.

"So far, there has only been one case in each kingdom. That shouldn't pose as a problem." Another one uttered.

"Thirteen." Damon interrupted calmly.

"Thirteen cases of Berserked wolves."