The air was damp and heavy, the walls slick with condensation and the faint metallic tang of blood. Isla’s heart clenched as her gaze fell on a familiar figure slumped in a shadowy cell.
“Eryon,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she approached the bars. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. “It’s us. We’re here.”
The figure stirred, his crimson eyes glinting faintly in the darkness. Eryon’s once-proud posture was hunched, his movements sluggish as he turned his head toward her.
Recognition flickered in his gaze, but it was quickly replaced by something darker.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he growled, his voice rough and guttural. “I’m not your son anymore.”
Isla recoiled slightly at the raw hunger in his tone, but her resolve remained unshaken.
“Don’t say that,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “You’re still Eryon. My son. No matter what they’ve done to you.”
Draven stepped forward, his imposing presence filling the cell.
“We’re taking you back,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding. He reached out and grabbed Eryon by the shoulder, his grip steady. “Whether you like it or not.”
Eryon’s muscles tensed under Draven’s hold, his crimson eyes narrowing.
“You don’t understand,” he snarled, his voice laced with frustration and despair. “I’m dangerous. I’ll hurt you. I’ll hurt everyone.”
“Let us decide what’s dangerous,” Draven said, his voice like steel. “You’re coming with us.”
Isla unlocked the cell with trembling hands, the metal creaking as the door swung open. She stepped inside cautiously, her heart aching as she knelt before her son.
“Eryon, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “We’ve lost so much. Don’t make us lose you too.”
For a moment, Eryon’s gaze softened, the glimmer of the boy they once knew shining through the haze of darkness. He allowed them to help him to his feet, though his body was frail and his steps unsteady.
***
The fortress was a hive of chaos, alarms blaring as guards and Shadowbound swarmed the narrow hallways. Draven, Isla, and Eryon moved as a unit, their survival hinging on their coordination. Shadowbound vampires lunged at them from all angles, their twisted forms exuding dark magic.
Draven led the charge, his wolf form tearing through the Shadowbound with feral intensity. His claws ripped through their shadowy forms, but for every one that fell, two more took its place. Isla followed close behind, her magic flaring brightly as she conjured shields to protect them from oncoming attacks. Eryon, however, was the wild card—his movements were a blur of violence. His vampiric strength sent enemies flying, but his brutality was terrifying. He fought with a savagery that was unsettling, even to his parents.
“Eryon, this way!” Isla shouted, her voice strained. She cast a spell that sent a wave of light down the corridor, disintegrating a cluster of Shadowbound blocking their path.
Eryon didn’t respond, his focus entirely on tearing through the enemies in front of him. He grabbed a Shadowbound by the throat, his crimson eyes gleaming as he crushed its neck before throwing it aside. Draven glanced back, his expression dark with worry.
“Keep moving!” Draven barked, his voice echoing through the hall.
As they neared the fortress gates, a massive wave of Shadowbound appeared, their glowing eyes locking onto the fleeing trio. Isla’s heart sank as she saw their sheer numbers. She raised her hands, summoning a barrier of light that slowed their advance.
“It won’t hold for long!” she shouted, her voice trembling with exertion.
Eryon snarled, his fangs bared as he lunged forward, breaking through the last line of enemies with sheer force. His parents followed, their movements urgent as they sprinted toward the forest’s edge. The sound of pursuit faded as they crossed into the trees, the fortress finally behind them.
They didn’t stop running until the air around them was silent. Isla leaned against a tree, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Draven shifted back into his human form, his face etched with exhaustion and concern.
Eryon stood a few feet away, his posture tense and his gaze distant. Blood streaked his pale skin, his crimson eyes flickering with an unnatural intensity. Isla stepped toward him, her voice soft but trembling.
“You’re not yourself, my love,” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”
Eryon didn’t answer. He turned away, his focus on the shadows of the forest. His silence was louder than any words could have been.
Draven exchanged a worried glance with Isla. Their son had changed—perhaps irreparably. As they moved deeper into the woods, the weight of their fears hung heavily in the air. Was Eryon a monster now?