Erythro: The Prophecy Unveiled

Russel stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. Madeline's piercing scream had jolted him back to reality, the weight of his crime suddenly crushing him. He'd been caught red-handed, his guilt a heavy burden to bear. Madeline would surely despise him for this, he thought. His gaze shifted to Emily, who stood nearby, her face a mask of blankness as she stared at the severed head of Rose.

When she met his eyes, he saw the raw horror and disbelief etched into her expression. Russel's face was spattered with blood, his hands-stained crimson from the act he had just committed. His sword, too, was dripping with blood. The stench of blood filled the air, making Emily's stomach churn. Everywhere she looked, all she saw was red. She averted her gaze and slowly made her way out of the grand hall, her footsteps heavy with sorrow.

As she left, servants began the grim task of cleaning up the mess, their movements efficient and methodical. Despite the horrific incident, the Royal Ball continued as if nothing had happened. Guests mingled and conversed; their minds preoccupied with their own agendas. Some were there for business, politics, or work-related matters, while others sought pleasure or connections with influential figures from the five empires. Lord Nesthor and his wife, however, left the ball immediately following the tragedy.

The Royal Ball was in full swing, the grand hall shimmering with light and the sounds of laughter and music filling the air. Nobles and dignitaries from across the empire danced and conversed, unaware of the tension brewing just beyond the palace walls. Suddenly, a messenger, running breathlessly and clutching a parchment, burst into the castle. The man, a messenger to the king, entered the ball and shouted for attention.

"News! News!" he cried, his voice echoing through the hall. "There has been another black wolf attack! This time in Skotos! The King of Skotos urgently requests reinforcements! The five kings are hereby summoned for an emergency meeting at the Ordinance, including the regents present here." The crowd gasped and murmured, their faces a mixture of shock and fear. The news of another attack, so soon after the previous one, sent a wave of dread through the room.

King Alexander, sensing the gravity of the situation, raised his hand, silencing the room. "My esteemed guests," he began, his voice steady but tinged with concern, "I must regretfully cut this evening short. Please return to your homes safely." The guests, still bewildered, began to disperse under the watchful eyes of the palace guards. King Alexander, his expression now grave, turned to his advisors. "To the throne room, immediately," he commanded, striding out of the hall with the officials following closely behind.

In the throne room, the atmosphere was tense. King Alexander issued rapid instructions: "Double the guards at every border. Implement a curfew across the empire. We must ensure the safety of our people." His voice was resolute as he mapped out the plan to protect the kingdom. The other three kings, who had been in attendance at the ball, quickly departed for their respective empires, each preparing for the urgent meeting that would take place.

King Alexander knew that time was of the essence. He departed for Verdantia, where the ordinance was located. It was one in the morning when he arrived. The night was eerily silent, with a biting chill in the air that seemed to echo the unease in his heart. The fate of the empire hung in the balance, and the decisions made in the hours to come would determine its future.

Prince Sebastian stood by the window, watching as his father entered the carriage, his expression thoughtful. As the carriage disappeared into the night, he closed the curtain and turned to face Larry, the butler, who was tending to the fire in the prince's room. "What's happening? Could the black wolves still be alive, despite what they believed?" he asked, his voice edged with concern. Larry turned to the young prince, his face calm but serious. "I'm not certain of the details, Your Highness, but it would be wise for you to rest and remain here. I'll make my rounds and check in with the guards to ensure everything is secure," he replied. With a respectful bow, the butler left the room.

However, Prince Sebastian's thoughts were elsewhere. Dressed in his nightwear, he pulled on a long coat to ward off the cold and quietly left his room. Madeline's scream echoed in his mind, the memory filling him with unease. Worried for her safety, he decided to search for her within the palace.

Prince Sebastian made his way to the servants' quarters, his footsteps barely audible on the stone floors. He arrived at Madeline's room and knocked softly on the door. A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing Theresa, who was startled to see the prince. She quickly curtseyed, her voice trembling slightly as she greeted him, "Your Highness."

The prince nodded solemnly and asked, "Where is Madeline?" Theresa replied, "She's resting." His piercing gaze made Theresa feel uneasy. "Is everything alright, Your Highness?" she inquired. "Do you want me to wake her?" "No, it's fine. Can I just see her?" the prince replied.

Theresa nodded and made way for the prince to enter. The young prince observed the sleeping Madeline, looked around the room, and, satisfied with everything, decided to leave. However, he turned and asked Theresa, "Are you, her mother?" Theresa was surprised, her eyes widening. "No, we're just close. I treat her like a niece," she explained. The prince nodded and reassured her, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Madeline is my friend, and I want to ensure her safety."

A chilling scene of devastation unfolded in one of the towns of the Skotos Empire. The once peaceful haven was now a desolate wasteland, littered with the bodies of the fallen. The snow, once pristine, was stained crimson by the blood of the innocent. The houses, once filled with laughter and warmth, were now smoldering ruins. A pack of monstrous black wolves, larger than any seen before, had descended upon the town. Their eyes, glowing with a feral intensity, pierced the darkness. With a blood-curdling howl, they launched their attack, tearing through the town with savage ferocity.

The wolves' massive bodies crushed everything in their path, while their sharp claws ripped into the flesh of their victims. The townsfolk's cries of terror were drowned out by the savage howls of their attackers.The wolves had feasted on their victims, leaving behind a horrifying spectacle of carnage. The once vibrant town was now a macabre tableau, littered with the remnants of the massacre. Some parts of the bodies lay exposed to the elements, decaying slowly in the harsh winter air.

Two figures stood at a distance, observing the scene with a mixture of indifference and curiosity. The one on the right was a towering figure, cloaked in a thick, black fur coat. His hair, tousled by the wind, framed a face etched with a mysterious calm. His right hand gripped the hilt of a sword nestled in its scabbard. A large, jagged scar marred his hand, and a heavy silver ring, adorned with a jet-black stone, glinted in the dim light. Beside him stood a slightly shorter but more muscular figure, his long black hair tied back in a ponytail.

The man's face contorted in disgust as he crouched down to vomit, overwhelmed by the stench and the horrific sight before him. "You're too weak, Isaac," the taller man commented, his voice devoid of emotion.Isaac straightened, smoothing his clothes. He glanced at his companion, noticing the latter's unwavering composure. 'He doesn't seem bothered nor repulsed by the smell and sight before him,' Isaac thought.

A particularly large black wolf, the alpha of the pack, seemed to sense their presence. It paused mid-meal, its bloody jaws agape, and turned its gaze towards the two men. The wolf, its eyes glinting with a feral intensity, abandoned its meal and began to approach them with a slow, deliberate pace.Isaac, his eyes wide with fear, stepped back and looked at the man beside him. "It's coming here," he whispered, his voice trembling. Isaac gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white. He was ready to face the monstrous wolf, to fight for his life. But the man beside him seemed completely unperturbed.

The wolf approached them, its massive form casting a long shadow over the two men. The man in the black fur coat simply stared at the creature, his expression one of disdain. For what seemed like an eternity, the wolf stood before them, its eyes locked with theirs. Then, to Isaac's astonishment, the wolf bowed its head and turned away, its companions following suit. The pack retreated into the forest, leaving behind a stunned silence.Isaac was momentarily stunned by the turn of events. He looked at the man beside him, his mind racing. 'This man is scarier than any black wolf,' he thought. A knowing smirk appeared on the man's lips as he watched the wolf pack disappear into the woods.