In the pitch-black night, two shadows slipped through the massive trunks of ancient pines, running desperately toward the thin line of the border. Gareth's lungs burned, but the slight warmth of the tiny bundle wrapped tightly in his arms gave him strength. Right behind him was his wife, Elara, moving with the graceful yet deadly speed of a noble vampire. They were breathless. The werewolf territory was only a few hundred meters away.
Suddenly, the sky darkened.
A massive silhouette plummeted through the clouds, shaking the treetops with a violent gust of wind before crashing into their path. The earth trembled upon impact. It was a monstrous creature—bulky, shoulders bulging with unnatural muscle, its face and arms resembling a terrifying bat. Slowly, the beast shrank, its leathery skin fading until it took the form of an old man in noble attire: Lord Kaelen. Right behind him, dozens of elite vampire soldiers materialized from the shadows, their eyes glowing a piercing crimson.
"Give me that freak of a hybrid child, Elara," Kaelen demanded, his voice as biting as the night's frost. "Come home. Do not stain your family's name any further, and I shall forgive you."
Gareth's eyes instantly flared, shifting into a predatory, glowing yellow. Razor-sharp silver claws erupted from his fingertips, his muscles expanding as if threatening to tear through his own skin. His jaw structure shifted, hot steam hissing from between his fangs.
"You will never take what is ours!" he roared. It was no longer the voice of a man, but the feral snarl of a beast.
But trembling hands gripped Gareth's mutating arm. It was Elara. She could see the feral rage in her husband's eyes, and the deep, crushing despair hiding just beneath it. They were facing an elite army and a Noble. No matter how powerful of an army commander Gareth was, they wouldn't survive this. Not together.
"Gareth, no..." Elara whispered, her voice shaking. She quickly pressed the wrapped child into Gareth's arms. "Take him. Cross the border."
Gareth's transformation halted. The golden light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by welling tears. "Don't be ridiculous! I won't leave you here. If we die, we die together, Elara! I promised you!"
"I don't want you to die with me. I want you to live with him!" A single tear traced her pale cheek, dropping onto the forest floor. She reached up, gently caressing her husband's hardened, scarred face. "They won't kill me, Gareth... But if they catch you, they will tear you both apart. Please... For our child."
Gareth opened his mouth to speak, but the words choked in his throat. The crushing realization that, despite all his strength and his rank as a commander, he couldn't protect his own family shattered his heart.
Elara suddenly pulled back. Her hand went to her neck, grasping a ruby necklace—a relic filled drop by drop over the years with her own pure, noble blood. She ripped it from her throat and crushed it with all her might. Shards of glass cut her palm, mixing the ancient blood with her own.
The droplets scattered into the air, instantly igniting into a blinding crimson light. A massive, impenetrable red dome erected itself, completely engulfing Kaelen and his soldiers. The immense pressure of the magic bent the surrounding trees. Elara knew it would only hold for five minutes.
From inside the barrier, her grandfather Kaelen's deep voice echoed. "Is that disgusting hybrid baby and a mutt more important to you than your family, your nobility, your very life here?"
Elara didn't even turn to look at him. She said nothing. She simply looked at Gareth, a sorrowful but deeply loving smile gracing her lips—a smile that silently said it was all worth it.
Gareth gritted his teeth until his gums bled. Cursing his own weakness as tears soaked his face, he turned his back and bolted, tearing through the wind.
Minutes later, deep within the werewolf territory, the familiar sound of howling echoed in the distance. Soon, a werewolf burst through the bushes. He had a heavy metal prosthesis on his left leg. He was drenched in sweat, and a dark, vile ooze dripped from the intersection of his flesh and the metal—the accursed poison he had contracted from a Nullspawn in the past, a toxin that rotted even his cellular regeneration, acting up again.
It was his most trusted subordinate, Vane.
"Commander!" Vane panted, trying to hide his agonizing pain. His eyes darted to the blanket in Gareth's arms, and he flinched. "What... what is that baby? What is happening? The Grand Commanders have declared you a traitor! They say you betrayed us, that you sided with the vampires. The entire army is mobilized, they're hunting you right now!"
Gareth's blood ran cold. The howling of hundreds of wolves echoed through the forest. The circle was closing. He was trapped.
Slowly, Gareth fell to his knees. He gently held the baby out toward Vane. His head was bowed; the invincible commander didn't even have the strength to lift his chin. His voice was a broken whisper. "I have no right to ask this of you, Vane... But I have no one else I can trust. Please... Protect him. Raise him. This child is innocent."
Vane stared in disbelief. He couldn't fathom that his legendary commander, the man he fought shoulder-to-shoulder with, the man he owed his life to, was conspiring with vampires. A profound sense of disappointment and betrayal washed over his face. Yet, his blind, unwavering loyalty to his commander weighed heavier. Reluctantly, he reached out and took the baby into his arms.
Gareth slowly stood up. A pained but faint, peaceful smile appeared on his face. He took one last look at his son, turned around, and charged at top speed toward the approaching howls, fully believing he was sprinting to his death. His only goal was to buy his son time.
Gareth thought he was running toward his end that night. But when the army captured him, the commanders had far darker plans. They didn't kill him. To extract the vampires' plans and internal connections, they chained him in the deepest, sunless pits of the dungeons. A life of endless torture and captivity had just begun.