Lachlan: The Lycan King

Chapter Twenty-six:

*Not Edited

The Magnus character reveal will be at the end of this chapter! (As in the actor who I think looks the most like how I imagined him).

Also I love this song^
I'm obsessed with Jaymes Young now 🤷🏼‍♀️

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The decrepit, metal chains rattled and scrapped against the stone floor. A lonesome hooded figure that was hunched over its own self, flinched inside it's shadowy cell upon hearing the doors to the dungeon slam open.

There was the sound of footsteps, belonging to a single person, echoing down the narrow passageway. Haunting the victims of each cell with every footfall. They too cowered away in fear when the dungeon master appeared in their line of view. However, when the master passed, some seem to almost sigh in relief, clinging onto the hope that they were to be left alone for once. That today, they would be spared.

The hooded prisoner diverted its gaze away from its cell door when the master appeared before him. The dungeon master halted his step. Then, with a slight pivot of his foot, he faced the dimly lit cell.

His lips were pulled back into its signature, grotesque smirk. His eyes remained dull- almost as if he were soulless- and had deep purple eye bags under his lower waterline. The corners of his eyes were adorned with crows feet. Each wrinkle sprouting out from the curved corner like prongs on a pitchfork.

The dungeon master, also known as the Hunter's leader, Magnus, was of considerable age. His pale skin was wrinkled with age, but yet was pulled taut across his high cheekbones and protruding nose. A little bit of gray stubble was growing a round his mouth and along his curved jawline.

He spoke not a word at first. Only peering down into the cell with an unknown expression. The prisoner, too battered to withhold his once profound bravery, couldn't bare another torture. He had lost track of how long he had been held captive, but to him it felt like years. By now, he only wanted the abuse to end.

"Look at you," Magnus observed, cocking his head to the side, "putting yourself. Where is that usual Beast courage you all like to exult?"

The prisoner sealed his lips shut. He knew anything he said would only resort to a beating anyways. Even if he told the dungeon master what he wanted to know, he was ultimately still doomed.

"Ezra, Ezra, Ezra..." he tsked loudly, "too weak to even answer a simple question?"

Ezra grunted in response, but still remained frozen in his hovering form. He was severely malnourished. His ribs -which were now broken in some areas- poked out clearly, like scaffolding on a building. With the dungeon reaching up in the high heat temperatures, his skin was constantly slick with sweat. The brown, long locks of his hair clung to the back of his bony neck and around his sunken face.

"You know," Magnus started, "When I was your age, I killed my first Beast. I never liked your kind, even when some of the humans at the time believed your kind were innocent."

Magnus scoffed.

"As if."

Ezra coughed, spots of blood flying out of his mouth and landing onto the stone floor. Staining the ground with the thick, red liquid.

"Your kind attacked use without any honor, only fueling my hatred towards you all. But, I was smarter than the other humans," Magnus chuckled darkly, "I turned that hatred into a weapon of destruction that not even you creatures can destroy."