"Are you sure, cat? Did you look everywhere?" Chiki asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow at Toco-Toco.
"Of course! Who do you think I am, flea-bag?" the feline retorted with feigned indignation, raising his head haughtily.
"Calm down, don't fight. This isn't the time," Nakia interjected, stepping between them while spreading her wings in a gesture of peace.
"You're right," Chiki admitted, though she spat on the ground to show her displeasure. "I've already searched ten times, and there were no more statues anywhere. I even checked some kind of bunker, and nothing. These were the last statues in the entire kingdom," the feline assured them firmly.
"So where could my daddy's parents be?" Rykaru asked, looking at the others with worry in his eyes. His voice trembled slightly, reflecting his distress.
"Could that damn Tejod have destroyed them and made Paltio work all this time for nothing?" Ron said, clenching his fists in frustration.
"I don't think so," Mok replied thoughtfully. "Though I haven't seen them, I sense he must have them hidden in a special place. They're his most valuable bargaining chip against the young master."
"So what do we do?" Alita asked, crossing her arms as she watched Mok intently.
"The best thing is to go find the young master," Mok suggested.
"Do you know where he is?" Nakia asked, leaning forward curiously.
"We need to go to the Sea of Mist," Lucca responded after a few seconds of silence.
"To the Sea of Mist?" Alita and Ron repeated in unison, exchanging nervous glances.
"Yes, the Sea of Mist," Lucca confirmed seriously.
"That place is enchanted… Plus, it's a little scary," Alita commented, hugging herself as she recalled the stories she had heard about the site.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Ron said, trying to sound brave, though inside he felt a chill run down his spine. He wasn't exactly known for his courage when faced with the unknown.
"Alright, then let's go. There's no time," Mok ordered, checking Paltio's watch, whose dial indicated less than an hour remained until the crucial event.
"In the tank carriage, we'll get there in less time than that," Mok added, leading the group with determination. Toco-Toco quickly located the vehicle, and everyone climbed aboard, speeding toward their destination.
Mok knew the place well. The Sea of Mist was located on the outskirts of the kingdom, shrouded in a dense fog that obscured visibility beyond a few meters. It was the perfect place to get lost if one didn't know the area well, but Mok had explored it before during his training with Rodelos, who had taught him how to enter and exit without getting lost.
Meanwhile, Tejod and his massive army had already arrived at the central point of the Sea of Mist, right below an imposing cliff. But they weren't alone. The other six councilors and the Shadow Armies awaited them in silence, impatient for the event to begin.
"Greetings, Tejod," the other shadow leaders said, bowing their heads slightly in respect.
"Yes, yes, enough with all this formality," Tejod replied dismissively, waving a hand to brush off the greetings. "Well, as you already know, we're here because our lord Urugas will soon return, thanks to this scepter in the prince's hand."
The other leaders directed hate-filled glances toward Paltio. After all, thanks to the arrival of this young man in their conquered realms, chaos had begun to spread, endangering their plans.
Tertrol approached Tejod with a determined stride and a calculating smile. "My dear lord of the Red Shadows and leader of the Shadows," he began, bowing slightly in a gesture of feigned respect. "Once we awaken the great Lord Urugas, I request that you hand over the boy for all the trouble he has caused us."
"Ah, yes!" Tejod replied sarcastically, though his eyes gleamed with irritation. "Well, get in line," he added, dismissively gesturing toward the other leaders, who also fixed their resentful gazes on Paltio. It seemed everyone had scores to settle with the young prince… everyone, except Troba.
"And what about you? Aren't you joining?" Mejod asked, addressing Troba with a suspicious tone.
"Me? Yes, I'm coming too," she responded quickly, forcing a smile to mask her true intentions. Her gaze shifted to the ground, avoiding eye contact with Tejod.
"Silence!" Tejod roared, his eyes seeming to boil with contained fury. The tension in the air became palpable as his voice thundered like a storm. "I will decide to whom I give the boy, but for now, he is indispensable for what we must do. And let me make one thing clear—I wouldn't give him to you, Tertrol," he concluded, shooting him a look filled with annoyance.
"Damn Tejod, you'll fall soon. Just wait a little longer," Tertrol thought to himself, barely suppressing a faint smile so no one would notice his growing hatred.
Tejod, ignoring the surrounding tensions, scanned the sea of people surrounding them. "I wonder where my spy is… Where is Bleko? I don't see him anywhere," he muttered, frowning. "Well, it doesn't matter. He'll show up with his report soon enough. For now, I'll focus on preparing for the arrival of my lord."
"Lords of the Shadow Council," Tejod announced in a grave voice, raising his arms toward the darkened sky. "We are ready to begin."
The waters of the Sea of Mist began to move slowly, rising as if obeying an ancient call. The water level increased, preparing to ascend high enough to briefly obscure the moon—a crucial phenomenon for the ritual.
The shadow councilors gathered in a circle, chanting strange, guttural incantations that seemed to emerge from beyond the grave. Their voices resonated in the air, distorting reality itself. Suddenly, an enormous rock emerged from the depths of the sea, floating like an imposing platform.
"We are ready," the councilors declared in unison, their figures enveloped in dense shadows that seemed to absorb all the surrounding light.
A stone pathway rose from the shore to the platform, while the mist covering the area began to dissipate slowly, revealing the mystical scene.
"Come this way, Lord Tejod," commanded the most imposing councilor, pointing to the path with an authoritative gesture. "Bring the boy with you."
"Careful, Paltio," Pax murmured softly as the prince advanced alongside Tejod toward the center of the ritual.
Tejod and Paltio crossed the path, their footsteps echoing on the cold, damp stone. They finally reached the heart of the Sea of Mist, where the lunar rock platform awaited them under the dim light of the moon.
The councilors stared intently at Paltio. "Place the scepter in the center," they commanded, their voices deep and resonant like echoes of the void.
One of the councilors attempted to take the scepter with his hands, but a spark of energy forced him to recoil. The artifact glowed intensely, rejecting any unwanted contact. Paltio couldn't help but stifle a laugh as he saw that not even the most powerful among the wicked could touch it.
However, the most imposing of the seven councilors, with a voice that thundered like a storm, addressed the others: "This is no obstacle." With an authoritative gesture, the six remaining councilors formed a perfect circle around the scepter.
They began to float slowly, spinning around the artifact like a dark top. Their chants filled the air—a guttural, twisted language that seemed to emerge directly from hell. The words were heavy, almost tangible, carrying with them a malevolent energy that froze the blood.
As they spun, they extended their hands forward. From them emerged dense, elongated shadows resembling sharp claws. A great dark energy began to emanate from these ethereal forms, enveloping the scepter in an oppressive embrace.
Both magics clashed. The light of the scepter fought desperately to maintain its purity, resisting the waves of darkness that sought to consume it. It was clear that the magic of the scepter was alive—a conscious entity battling for its existence. But despite its bravery, it could not withstand the combined force of the seven dark energies.
A muffled scream emerged from the scepter, a sound that seemed mortal, as if it were crying out in agony. Its radiant glow began to dim, gradually transforming into a dark, opaque color. It was as if its soul had been ripped away, leaving it empty and subdued.
"No…," Paltio murmured, horrified as he witnessed the scepter losing its essence. Just before its light disappeared completely, one final phrase echoed in his mind: "Goodbye, Paltio."
The prince felt a chill run through his body. It seemed the scepter had been a living energy, a conscious entity now extinguished forever.
The councilors halted their macabre dance and slowly descended until they touched the ground. With theatrical bows directed toward the darkened scepter, they declared in unison:
"It is time. The moment has come to bring our lord onto this plane. Hail Urugas, the god of darkness!"
Their voices resonated in the vast space, distorting the air itself as the ritual reached its climax. The dark energy now emanating from the scepter began to expand, creating cracks in the sky and warping reality around them. The water of the Sea of Mist boiled under the influence of such power, and the moon seemed to tremble at the impending presence of something far greater and more terrible.
Paltio observed everything with a racing heart, knowing that the true challenge was only just beginning.