CHAPTER 55
The word still lingered in the hall.
Werewolves.
It did not fade.
It did not weaken.
It settled into the bones of everyone present.
---
No one spoke.
Not immediately.
Because there was nothing simple to say after that.
Not when a prince had been declared as good as dead.
Not when his mate had disappeared with him.
Not when the enemy was something most of them had only heard about in whispers.
---
Zack had not moved.
Not when the men spoke.
Not when Alvira's voice broke.
Not even when the word werewolves filled the room.
But now—
He stepped forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Every movement controlled.
Every step measured.
The entire hall seemed to shift around him.
Because Zack was not a man who moved without purpose.
---
He stopped in front of the kneeling soldier.
"Look at me," he said.
His voice was low.
Not loud.
But it carried weight that forced obedience.
The man lifted his head immediately.
Fear flashed across his face.
Not fear of the beasts.
Fear of the man standing before him.
---
"You said you saw him fall," Zack continued.
"Yes…" the man replied, his voice unsteady.
Zack's gaze sharpened.
"Did you see him die?"
The question cut through the air.
Clean.
Precise.
The man hesitated.
"…No."
That single word changed the atmosphere again.
---
Zack straightened slightly.
"Then do not speak of him as dead."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
No one argued.
No one dared to.
---
Alvira looked at him, her voice trembling. "Zack… they said—"
"I heard what they said," he replied without looking at her.
His tone wasn't harsh.
But it allowed no contradiction.
---
He turned his attention back to the soldiers.
"How many survived?" he asked.
"Very few," one of them answered. "Most were killed… some fled back before we did."
Zack nodded once.
"Then the information we have is incomplete."
The Queen watched him carefully now.
"You believe he is still alive?" she asked.
Zack finally turned to face her.
"I do not deal in belief," he said calmly. "I deal in certainty."
A pause.
Then—
"My son is not dead."
---
The statement wasn't emotional.
It wasn't hopeful.
It was declared like fact.
And that made it more dangerous.
---
The Queen studied him for a long moment.
"You heard their report," she said. "The conditions—"
"Are irrelevant," Zack interrupted.
That caused a ripple through the hall.
No one interrupted the Queen.
No one.
Except him.
---
Zack's voice remained steady.
"If there is no body," he said, "there is no death."
Silence followed.
Even the Queen did not respond immediately.
---
Alvira stepped forward now.
Her voice softer.
More fragile.
"…And Lyria?" she asked.
That was the first time her name had been spoken in the hall.
Zack's gaze shifted slightly.
"She was with him," he said.
"Then she is alive too," Alvira whispered, holding onto that possibility.
Zack didn't confirm it.
But he didn't deny it either.
---
The Queen finally spoke again.
"You are suggesting we act on uncertainty."
Zack's response was immediate.
"I am stating we act on logic."
He stepped closer, his presence commanding.
"You have men who fled before the final moment. You have survivors who did not witness the end. You have an unknown enemy with unknown capabilities."
A pause.
Then—
"And yet, you are ready to accept a conclusion without proof."
That was not just a statement.
It was a challenge.
---
The Queen's expression remained composed.
But her eyes hardened slightly.
"You are questioning my judgment?"
Zack held her gaze.
"I am correcting it."
The tension in the room snapped tight.
---
No one breathed.
No one moved.
Because this was no longer just about Kael.
This was power.
Authority.
Control.
---
After a long moment, the Queen leaned back slightly.
"…Then what do you propose?"
Zack didn't hesitate.
"A search."
The word was simple.
But heavy.
---
"We send elite units," he continued. "Not soldiers who panic. Not men who retreat. We send hunters."
Murmurs spread quietly.
Hunters.
That meant something different.
Something more dangerous.
---
"We track the forest," Zack said. "We locate the battlefield. We follow any trace left behind."
"And if the werewolves are still there?" one of the nobles asked nervously.
Zack turned his head slightly.
"Then we kill them."
The answer was calm.
Too calm.
---
Silence returned.
He wasn't bluffing.
He wasn't exaggerating.
He meant every word.
---
The Queen watched him carefully.
"You are asking for war," she said.
Zack shook his head slightly.
"No," he replied.
"I am asking for my son."
---
That line shifted everything.
Because it was not spoken as a prince.
Not as a commander.
But as a father.
And yet—
It still sounded like a threat.
---
After a long pause, the Queen finally nodded once.
"…You will lead this search," she said.
No hesitation.
No conditions.
Because there was no one else who would do it the same way.
---
Zack inclined his head slightly.
"Good."
Then he turned.
Already done with the conversation.
Already moving forward.
---
Alvira stepped toward him quickly. "Zack—please—bring him back."
He paused for just a second.
Only a second.
Then said—
"I will."
Not "I'll try."
Not "if he's alive."
Just—
"I will."
---
And for the first time since the news arrived—
Hope did not feel fragile.
It felt dangerous.