Trollhunters: A Fan-made Sequel

Prologue

(A/N) Link to the og artwork on the cover:
https://pin.it/2Q7arfk9h

The troll nullhuller, if left undetected, can grow into full adulthood beneath human skin. Also known as the changeling, the nullhuller lives and dies by three rules. Rule one: There is honor among assassins. Rule two: Rule one is a lie; there is no such thing as honor. Rule three: Everything and everyone is a tool to get what you want. The most important rule, yet unspoken, is to stay away from horseshoes. More specifically, iron horseshoes. These rules are crucial to surviving in a world of halfbreeds.

There was a harsh thwack of a blade cutting through the thick brush. Walter Lempke sliced his way into a damp jungle, fresh calluses burning his palms from the handle of a machete. Beads of sweat formed on his skin, tickling as they began to run down his face and back. His voice was gruff and annoyed.

"How much further, Matthäus?"

"Should be just up ahead, Mein Freund," the other, shorter man replied from behind. He stepped in front of Lempke to take the lead and pulled aside a tangle of vines. "The old tomes were cryptic on his whereabouts." The space that stretched ahead was a large, gaping tunnel of stone. Unlit torches lined the walls until they disappeared into the darkness. As the two men ventured further, their shoes clacked and scuffed against the sandstone tiles. Lempke's hand, wet from perspiration, felt a cool breeze as he freed himself from the machete handle. The feeling was short-lived, however, as it was replaced by the wood of a torch, which smelled of sulfur. Matthäus Scaarbach flicked a lighter below it, and the two men watched in satisfaction as the cloth tip was swallowed in flame.

Further into the temple, the men were met with a pile of rubble sitting at the center, along with a large opening in which the ceiling had previously fallen through. Lempke's eyes scanned the chamber for details, eventually falling on the carved head of what seemed to resemble a troll. Mouth gaping and thoughtless, dead eyes staring in different directions, a single ring sat on the tongue, beckoning him forth. Lempke quickly swiped the ring and twisted it down onto his hot, swelling finger.

"Is... is he.. alive?" The quivering voice of Scaarbach broke Lempke's trance, causing his head to snap in the direction. Matthäus was fixated on the pile of rubble before him; a gray, seemingly lifeless arm sticking out from beneath. Claw marks in the sandstone stretched outward from the hand, which sported remnants of the crumbled dust just below the fingernails.

"How should I know?" Lempke snapped. "Kick him or something."

"What?" Scaarbach's breathing increased as his stress rose. The man's chest tightened upon hearing the words, and he shook his head frantically as Lempke's glare only became more demanding. Matthäus took a deep breath and shakily marked himself with the cross.

"Unser Vater.. der du im Himmel bist, geheiligt werde dein Name; Dein Reich komme, dein Wille geschehe wie im Himmel, auch auf Erden--"

"Hurry up," Walter snapped.

"..Gib mir die Kraft, dies zu tun; und vergib uns unsere Verfehlungen, wie wir denen vergeben, die gegen uns verstoßen; und führe uns nicht in Versuchung, sondern erlöse uns vom Bösen." Once Scaarbach was finished, he took a slow step towards the arm.  His surroundings seemed to blur, the sounds around him merging into an indistinguishable cacophony. As he reached a toe toward the dead appendage, the walls of the room closed in on him, suffocating any semblance of calmness that remained. He felt trapped, as if invisible hands were squeezing his midsection tightly, preventing himself from breathing steadily.

His toe made contact with the hand after an eternity, and he felt himself nudge the cold flesh of the beast, enough to turn it over from the wrist. Matthäus let out a breath of relief when nothing happened. The man turned to look at Walter, who wore a face of pure dissatisfaction. The silence of the room grew. Lempke turned to leave, and Scaarbach took a step forward to follow but was soon met with a faceful of stone.

A cold fist seized his now bare ankle, and the long, disgusting nails dug into his skin. The wind was knocked out of the man as he met the floor with a hard smack. His jaw dropped in surprise, but his throat didn't allow for sound. Lempke spun around upon hearing the sickening contact his coworker had made against the stone. The rubble began to quiver and rise, a second hand shooting out and grasping the floor to help push.

Lempke watched in mild surprise as the crumbled wreckage delineated the body of the beast, who shook as it stood slowly. Bones cracked and popped as it forced itself into an upright position, Matthäus being pulled along with it. Every movement was painfully slow, as if it was an arduous task for the weakened creature. The troll's horns rounded out and framed its face; gold platings wrapped around the keratin like bands. Metal rings had been threaded through the skin of its chin, along with a ring through his septum, all gold. It stood like a god in the broken lighting of the chamber, cracking its neck with the free hand.

Driven by desperate instinct, the troll's senses sharpened in anticipation of any sign of sustenance. Its nostrils flared as it caught a faint whiff that sent an electrifying jolt through its starved body, a scent that resembled meat. The aroma tantalized its senses like a siren's call, beckoning it towards salvation.

"Who.." it spoke in a deep rumble, "has awakened me?" Matthäus, in a fearful panic, threw a sweaty finger in the direction of Walter, who didn't seem to refuse the accusation. Its gaze met Lempke's. A mixture of relief and disbelief washed over its tired eyes as they fixated on the unsuspecting man.

"I have," Lempke's confidence was almost smug, "Angor Rot." The being narrowed its eyes, belly rumbling. Its parched tongue flickered across cracked lips as saliva flooded into its mouth: a rare sensation after enduring centuries without sustenance.

"You know my name," its gravelly voice began, mouth salivating more and more, "a shame I will never know yours." Summoning some remaining strength, the famished creature lifted Matthäus closer to its nose to take a whiff. Its trembling limbs betrayed both excitement and trepidation; instincts warned against blindly trusting such fortune, but starvation demanded immediate action.

"What does that--!" Matthäus Scaarbach's inquiry was cut short and sent into a fit of painful screaming. The man's terrified shouts tore through the air as the teeth of Angor Rot ripped through his flesh with a thick squelch. The ravenous beast began to devour the man with feverish intensity. Blood mingled with saliva as it tore chunks of meat from sinew and bone, each bite fueling a flicker of vitality within its emaciated body.

Lempke watched the grotesque display with a wicked, unhinged grin; there was no room for sentimentality when faced with relentless starvation. The bloodcurdling screams of the man getting torn to shreds was nothing short of bone chilling, yet survival demanded sacrifice in this brutal domain: instinct dictated actions that would be abhorrent in times less desperate. When the shrieking came to a halt and the man was left to choke on its own bodily fluids, the beast shifted its gaze to Walter.

With newfound strength, the troll crawled forth quickly, before Lempke had a reaction, and it had stood to unfurl its full height, towering over him. A sticky, red mess trailed from its mouth, and chunks of flesh were still wedged between glistening, sharp teeth. The creature made a mad grab for Lempke's throat, but its actions were soon halted inches away. An eye-catching glow emanated from the ring on Walter's hand.

"My ring," it snarled, muscles straining to push past the field, "my flesh." Lempke only let out a low cackle.

"Yeild to me," he retorted in a cocky manner, showing off the ring, "for I wear the Inferna Copula." Struggling against the ring's charm, the beast reluctantly surrendered, giving Lempke a harsh glare. "You have killed thousands. You are chaos incarnate. And you.." the man pointed, "are.." his grin widened, "mine."