72

Aphellios stood on the balcony of the royal castle, the highest point in the Wolf Kingdom, overlooking the bustling chaos below. The castle itself was an imposing structure, built from dark stone and adorned with intricate carvings of wolves and ancient runes. Torches burned along the battlements, casting flickering light on the anxious faces of the guards who stood at their posts, ever vigilant for any sign of the assassin or the kidnapped princess.

The kingdom's streets, usually filled with the lively chatter of merchants and townsfolk, were now a scene of tension and urgency. Soldiers in black and silver armor moved in tight formations, their faces set in grim determination. The air was thick with the scent of burning torches and the distant sound of shouting as houses were searched and villagers questioned.

Market stalls stood abandoned, their wares untouched. Shops were closed, their doors barred, and the windows of homes were tightly shuttered. The only movement came from the relentless patrols of demon soldiers, their red eyes glowing in the dim light, as they stalked through the city, searching for any clue that might lead them to Fiona. The villagers, fearful and wary, whispered among themselves, casting nervous glances at the imposing figures of their protectors turned oppressors.

Aphellios’s usually composed demeanor was cracked, revealing the simmering rage beneath. His hands gripped the cold stone of the balcony’s edge, knuckles white with tension. The wind rustled through his dark hair, and his cloak billowed behind him like a shadow. His piercing eyes, a deep, menacing shade of crimson, scanned the horizon, seeking any sign of Fiona or the elusive assassin.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of fury and frustration. How could this have happened under his watch? He had promised to protect Fiona, to keep her safe from any harm. And now, she was gone, taken by some faceless enemy. He could feel the anger boiling inside him, a dark, consuming fire that threatened to erupt at any moment.

In contrast, Arvis, the wolf emperor was entrenched in a different struggle. He had summoned the kingdom’s most skilled mage after the elf kingdom entrusted him with the Moonstone, a relic of immense power that had lain dormant for centuries. His goal was to awaken its power by using the elf princess who was the guardian of the moonstone, but despite numerous attempts, he had failed miserably. The Moonstone remained cold and lifeless in their hands, resisting all of their efforts.

Elenora, the elven princess, stood by Arvis’s side in the ancient chamber where the Moonstone was kept. Her presence was a blend of grace and determination. With her blonde hair and piercing eyes, she was a vision of ethereal beauty, but despite the prophecy and her attempts as the moonstone’s guardian could not stir the stone. She whispered ancient elven incantations, her hands glowing with magic as she touched the Moonstone, but each attempt ended in silence.

Arvis’s frustration grew with each failure. "Why won't it respond?" he muttered, his voice tinged with desperation. He slammed his fists onto the table, making the Moonstone rattle slightly but otherwise remain inert. "We have tried every spell, every ritual. What are we missing?"

Elenora placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "The Moonstone is ancient, Arvis. It has its own will. Perhaps it waits for the right moment or the right wielder. We must not lose hope."

Her words, though meant to comfort, only deepened Arvis’s frustration. "Hope? We are running out of time, Elenora. Fiona is still out there, and this stone could be our only chance to save her."

Elenora’s face darkened as she balled her hands into fists. “So?” she asked calmly, sustaining the growing rage within her.

Arvis became flustered with Elenora’s reaction as she continued. “Why do you care if she never returns? Lady Fiona is the Demon Lord’s fiancee, not yours. I am your fiancee, Arvis. You should have been concentrating on me.”

“I am not saying this just because I am worried about Fiona,” Arvis tried to explain. “Of course, I am more concerned about you and the moonstone. And that’s why need Fiona to return. At least that woman could yield its power.”

A thousand clouds as if gathered over Elenora’s face. The girl who’s usually as bright as a freshly bloomed sunflower, seemed way different from her everyday image.

“Are you doubting my abilities as the moonstone’s guardian?” Lady Elenora inquired, her voice calm yet chilling.

Arvis promptly pulled Elenora into an embrace and said, “Please, do not misinterpret my words, My Lady. I know if we try harder, My Lady will certainly succeed.”

Arvis attempted to calm Elenora down. His life was already a myriad of messes. He no longer has the energy to deal with Lady Elenora’s unreasonable whim. However, he couldn’t deny that he was more worried for Fiona than anything at that moment.

Days turned into weeks, and still, the Moonstone refused to awaken. The pressure on Arvis mounted, and his once calm demeanor was replaced with simmering anger. He spent hours in the chamber, staring at the stone, willing it to reveal its secrets. But it remained as silent as ever. What good was the Moonstone if it remained dormant?

The night of the battle against Lysander arrived like a tempest. As the light from the Moonstone continued to shine, it revealed a direction – a faint, glowing trail that pointed towards the east. Aphellios, watching from a distance, caught sight of the Moonstone's power for the first time. His eyes sparkled with a mix of astonishment and a menacing smile played on his lips.

"This is it," Aphellios murmured, his voice barely audible over the commotion. His eyes blazed with a menacing glow.

“Found you, Baby!”

He turned to his closest advisors, his voice commanding and urgent. "Follow that trail. It will lead us to Fiona and the assassin. We cannot waste any more time."

The soldiers sprang into action, rallying under Aphellios’s orders. The kingdom, which had been in disarray, now moved with a singular purpose. Aphellios’s heart raced with a mixture of relief and anticipation. The Moonstone’s awakening was a beacon of hope, a sign that their efforts had not been in vain.

Arvis, still enveloped in the Moonstone’s light, watched in astonishment. He turned to Elenora, who had been watching with wide-eyeds. "How can someone else awaken it, that not even being near it?" Elenora muttered, her face contorted from the shock.

As the Moonstone’s light began to fade, the direction it had revealed remained etched in Arvis’s mind. He knew where they needed to go. "We must hurry," he said, urgency replacing his earlier frustration. "Fiona is there."