***ROOSEVELT***
"No, no, no…!" I screamed as I woke up from a terrible dream. Beads of sweat formed on my skin, and I could hear my heart pounding through my ears. "So the prophecy still stands," I mouthed to myself as I brushed the lingering effects of the dream off my face.
"Guards!" My voice thundered, as I reached out for a messenger. They all rushed in with scared looks on their faces, their footsteps echoing across the chamber's floor. "Get me general Gus!" I ordered. I lay back on my bed as they all retired outside my chambers.
"What is going on? I wiped out his whole pack…" Those words lingered at the back of my throat, like I didn't fully believe them.
"He's here, sir," a voice sounded from outside. It was one of my guards.
"Let him in!" I responded as I struggled to get on my feet.
The door slowly creaked open, General Gus entering with measured steps. As soon as he was a few paces to my bed, he knelt on one knee, lowering his head until it almost brushed against the floor. Not a word came from me. My eyes stayed fixed on him—studying him for the slightest irregularities. Silence stretched between us, before I finally straightened slowly, walking towards him.
Bit by bit, I closed in on him, each step calculated and intimidating.
I approached him carefully, every step echoing off the walls of the room. As soon as I was near enough to notice his shaky breathing, I said quietly, "Get on your feet."
He followed right away, yet his shoulders seemed stiff, as if fear had begun to break him.
I circled him slowly, hands clasped behind my back, eyes fixed on his neck—reading his pulse. "Tell me about the pack," I said, voice low but firm. "Creekclaw. The one you claimed you destroyed. The same pack that sheltered the child the prophecy named as the one who would rule the entire wolf kingdom as the true alpha."
I halted right at his face, seeing his throat move when he gulped. His gaze fell to the ground—I didn't need to see more than that, it was already enough proof for me to know there's something wrong. Even so, I questioned him regardless.
"Are you sure you fully destroyed that pack?"
"What pack?" He seemed lost, but I wasn't surprised.
"Are you sure you killed the young boy with the crescent moon sign on his back?" My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Your next answer will determine if you live or die."
At those words, he collapsed to his knees, trembling. "My king—please," he begged, palms pressed together. "No matter how we searched, no matter how we pressured the alpha and Luna of Creekclaw, they never gave up the child. That… that was why I wiped out the entire pack. A young boy couldn't have survived on his own. He couldn't."
"He made it." My voice came out rough.
Just as his eyes flickered in surprise, my arm moved fast—yanking the blade from my belt. In one quick cut, his ear dropped; red spilled over his cheek while he cried out sharply.
He held the cut tight, breathing hard while trembling—trickled, spraying the ground in red.
"Go," I said, my tone sharper than the blade in my grip.
He left at once. He rushed out—crawling one moment, tripping the next, with blood streaking behind him.
After he left, I slowed my breathing while wiping blood off the knife with my handkerchief. The vision replayed in my head - not just replaying, but—cautioning, impossible to shake.
I needed a breather to feel better so I decided to pay Rolland a visit — a traitor that once rose in revolt against my government.
I grabbed the black shirt I'd hung on the wall the previous night, and threw it on. Passing through the concealed stair below my room, I headed toward the underground prison—Impel Down.
The hidden staircase spiralled downward, made out of brimstone, the lights on the walls were dimly lit. As I moved ahead, my steps were measured—echoes bouncing off the damp walls. With every turn further down, the air became thinner—each breath felt sharper than the last.
When I arrived at the last step, the heavy iron door of Impel Down stood ahead—dark, massive, buzzing from the beings locked inside.
The instant the guards saw me, their shoulders stiffened—then quickly dipped into bows, necks lowered.
I ignored them. Instead, I stepped forward, weaving through their crouched forms.
The gate creaked loudly as it parted open.
The moment I stepped inside, the air shifted.
The shouting, clashing steel, and jeers stopped fast. Every cell fell quiet. The chains quit shaking. Some wild-eyed inmates stiffened, pulling into shadows as if my arrival crushed the breath from the room.
I kept moving, silence following close behind as I went down past cell after cell.
I paused next at a room far down in the bottom part.
Rolland's
The former feared commander appeared worn down, nearly unrecognizable. With tangled hair, and garments ripped and stained. Lying on the cold rocky ground, he hardly raised his head when I got to his cell.
Yet as his gaze landed on me through the bars, he forced himself to stand up—gradually, with effort—he moved on both legs. Holding the metal rails for balance.
Even though he could barely stand, a small smile appeared. Though his strength was low, I could still see how unbroken he is.
"Well," Rolland rasped, "to what do I owe the honor? What brings the king himself down to this pit?"
I clutched my hands behind my back. "I came to see your face," I said, voice cool and steady. "I've had a rough day. Looking at you… helps."
Rolland let out a short, dry laugh—then turned without a word and headed toward his former resting place. Sinking back where he'd been before, he acted as though I was nothing.
The termination cut hard.
My jaw tightened.
I stepped closer to the bars. "You know," my voice low, "I'll be finding your daughter soon. And when I do…" My eyes darkened. "I'll make sure to do things you wouldn't dare imagine, to her." A soft smile, curling out of my lips.
The air shifted fast.
Rolland dashed up with a shout, crashing into the bars until they shook. Despite the gaps, he thrust his arms forward—fingers stretching, trying—to seize me. His expression hardened, driven by fury beyond control.
"If you touch her—" he spat, fingers straining inches from my chest, "—if you lay a single hand on her, I swear I will kill you with my bare hands!"
I moved away slowly, calm, observing how the man's anger flared. I turned, moving gradually from the cell area. His screams followed me closely behind my back—echoing through the prison walls.
When I arrived at the top gate, a messenger was already there, giving a short bow.
"My king," the messenger said breathlessly, "General Gus requests to meet you in your chambers early tomorrow morning."
I kept walking without slowing. "Fine," I remarked.
Whatever he has for me, it better be good.