CHAPTER 56
The hall remained frozen.
No one dared to speak after the word had been said.
Werewolves.
It sat in the air like a curse.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
Real.
---
Zack stood where he had been all along.
Still.
Silent.
Unmoving.
But the silence around him was not calm.
It was pressure.
The kind that built before something broke.
---
Alvira's breath trembled beside him.
"My son…" she whispered again, barely audible. "No… no, he cannot—"
"Stop."
Zack's voice cut through her words.
Not harsh.
Not loud.
But absolute.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned to look at him.
His eyes were on the soldiers.
Cold.
Focused.
Unaffected on the surface.
---
Zack stepped forward.
Each step echoed across the marble floor.
Measured.
Controlled.
Deadly in its calmness.
He stopped directly in front of the kneeling men.
"You said he fell," Zack said quietly.
The first soldier nodded weakly. "Yes, my lord… he was surrounded—"
Zack interrupted him.
"Answer only what I ask."
The man swallowed hard. "Yes…"
---
Zack leaned slightly forward.
"Did you see him die?"
Silence.
The question felt heavier than anything before it.
"…No," the man admitted.
Zack straightened.
"Did you see his body?"
"…No."
"Did you remain there long enough to confirm his death?"
The man hesitated.
"…No, my lord. We were forced to retreat—"
Zack cut him off again.
"Then you do not know what happened after you fled."
The man lowered his head.
"Yes… my lord."
---
Zack turned slightly, his voice now carrying across the entire hall.
"Then hear this clearly."
A pause.
"My son is not dead."
---
The statement landed like a command.
Not an opinion.
Not hope.
A declaration.
---
Murmurs spread immediately.
"But the report—"
"They said he was surrounded—"
"No one survives that—"
---
Zack's gaze swept across the room.
And the whispers died instantly.
"You speak of survival as if you understand his strength," he said calmly.
No one responded.
Because no one truly did.
---
The Queen finally spoke.
"You dismiss the testimony of your own men."
Zack turned to face her.
"I dismiss conclusions built on fear," he replied.
The tension between them tightened.
---
The Queen's voice sharpened slightly. "They described a massacre."
"And yet they survived," Zack answered without hesitation.
That shut down several voices instantly.
---
He continued, his tone steady.
"They fled before the end. They did not witness his last breath. They did not confirm his death."
A pause.
"So they do not decide it."
---
Alvira stepped forward again, unable to stay silent.
"Zack…" her voice broke. "What if… what if he is truly—"
"He is not."
This time, his voice was firmer.
Still calm.
But unyielding.
---
She searched his face.
Looking for emotion.
For doubt.
For fear.
There was none.
---
"…How can you be so sure?" she asked softly.
Zack held her gaze.
"Because I know my son."
A pause.
"And he does not die so easily."
---
That was not comfort.
That was belief sharpened into certainty.
---
The Queen leaned slightly forward.
"You are letting personal attachment cloud your judgment."
Zack didn't react immediately.
Then—
"You are mistaking clarity for attachment," he said.
That line carried weight.
---
He stepped closer to the center of the hall again.
"The real issue is not whether he is alive," Zack continued.
"It is that we do not know what we are facing."
Now the room listened differently.
---
"These creatures," he said, "they attack in numbers. They overpower trained soldiers. Their bites leave wounds that do not heal."
The injured soldier flinched slightly.
Because it was true.
---
"They are organized enough to ambush a royal unit," Zack went on.
"Which means this was not random."
Silence deepened.
---
The Queen's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You believe this was planned?"
"Yes."
One word.
Certain.
---
"Then that makes it more dangerous," she said.
Zack nodded once.
"It makes it more necessary."
---
A noble spoke nervously. "Necessary… for what?"
Zack's gaze shifted to him briefly.
"For retaliation."
The word sent a ripple through the hall.
---
"War?" another voice asked.
Zack shook his head slightly.
"Not yet."
A pause.
"First, we find him."
---
The Queen studied him again.
"And if he is not found?"
Zack didn't hesitate.
"Then we burn that forest to the ground until we find what remains."
The hall went completely still.
---
That was not strategy.
That was a promise.
---
Alvira covered her mouth slightly, tears falling freely now.
But even through her grief—
There was something else.
Hope.
Because Zack did not speak like a man who had lost his son.
He spoke like a man preparing to take him back.
---
The Queen finally made her decision.
"…You will lead the search," she said.
No argument.
No delay.
---
Zack inclined his head slightly.
"Prepare the hunters," he said immediately.
"Not soldiers."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"I want trackers. Killers. Men who do not run."
---
The guards nodded quickly.
"Yes, my lord."
---
Alvira stepped closer to him again, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for him.
"Bring him back to me," she whispered.
Zack paused.
For the first time—
He looked at her fully.
There was still no visible emotion.
But his voice lowered.
Just slightly.
"I will bring him back."
---
Then he turned.
And walked out of the hall.
---
No hesitation.
No doubt.
No fear.
---
Behind him, the palace remained silent.
But everything had changed.
---
Because this was no longer about waiting.
No longer about hoping.
No longer about mourning.
---
This was about going into the dark… and taking back what belonged to them.