the beginning after the end perfect duo

The Wykes

We approached the front door, flanked by guards who treated Lucas like royalty from the moment they recognized him. Honestly, I couldn't blame them. The Wykes manor wasn't anything like the Helsteas estate—it wasn't even close. Where our home was warm and inviting, this place loomed over us as a towering fortress, its jagged spires clawing skyward like weapons against the horizon. Narrow passages crisscrossed between the towers above, creating an intricate maze that felt more prison than palace. At the entrance stood an imposing iron gate, heavy and rust-streaked, evoking the kind of medieval Europe aesthetic you'd expect in tales of knights and sieges.

This wasn't built for comfort—it was designed to intimidate. From what I'd gathered, House Wykes owed its power entirely to sheer force. Before the war with the elves, they were relatively obscure. But during that conflict, they rose to prominence, becoming instrumental in humanity's victory. It made sense why they maintained such impenetrable defenses—they understood better than anyone how fragile power could be. Every stone of this monstrous structure seemed crafted not just to protect but to remind visitors of their insignificance.

I doubted anyone enjoyed visiting this place. It wasn't welcoming—it was suffocating.

"Such an ugly-looking place, isn't it, Tom?" Sylvia remarked, her tone dripping with disdain.

"Indeed it is," I replied without looking at her. "I almost forgot you were with us."

I didn't trust her—not one bit. She was here solely because Arthur and I were confident we could handle her if things went south. Her presence wasn't comforting; it was calculated risk management.

The head guard returned, barking orders for the massive doors to open. With a groan of iron hinges, they creaked apart, revealing the shadowy interior beyond. And so, the five of us stepped inside.

Yes, the five of us. Lucas had already been ushered in ahead of us, no doubt speaking privately with his father. If he hadn't already convinced Lord Wykes to cooperate, I wouldn't put it past him to have planned our capture the moment we crossed the threshold. Thankfully, we'd taken precautions for that scenario. We weren't walking into this lion's den unprepared.

"Alright, guys," I said, keeping my voice low but firm. "Let me do the talking. This guy's an asshole—a hard one—but he's also greedy as hell. We'll play on that. Appeal to his ego, ambition, and need to come out on top."

"Got it," Arthur chimed in, cracking his knuckles subtly. "If things go sideways, I'll see what I can do. Any suggestions before we start?"

"I've got one," Jasmine piped up, raising her hand slightly.

"Which is...?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"You better watch your language. I don't want your mom blaming me if she hears you saying something rude," she teased, though there was genuine concern beneath the playful jab.

"Don't worry about that," I shot back, rolling my eyes. "Now, any useful suggestions?" Silence followed. "No? Good. Then let's get this over with."

Without another word, we moved forward, stepping deeper into the cold, echoing halls of the Wykes stronghold.

We were escorted—or rather, herded—by two guards who closed in around us just enough to make the situation feel oppressive. Their intent was clear: we weren't welcome here. The narrow halls twisted and turned with deliberate complexity, likely meant to disorient visitors. After a few sharp turns that blurred any sense of direction, one of the guards stopped abruptly. With a flick of his hand, he channeled mana into a concealed mechanism along the wall, triggering the opening of a hidden door. Et voilà—a grand chamber awaited us.