As Beorn came to, he found himself sitting in a chair at the Manor's dining table across Silas. They hadn't even bothered to give him a shirt. Beorn shivered in the cold as he looked around trying to notice any way out of this. The Northern Fangs lined up on either side, but his attention was captured by Roderik. He wore Beorn's belt and was currently caressing his dagger with a satisfied smirk on his face. Enraged, Beorn tried to reach for him only to find himself tied to the chair.

Now that he was no longer in the rush of a fight, he could observe Silas closer. He sensed a sickening feeling coming from the Blood-Mage. Silas examined Beorn with the gaze of a predator. A half-smile hung on his lips as licked them. Beorn gave an involuntary shiver. It felt like he was facing a snake.

The reaction seemed to please Silas; his smile widened. He got up and walked toward Beorn. Forced to stay on the chair he watched Silas come closer with a sense of impending doom. Coming to a stop an arm's length he finally spoke with a low voice. The empty hall made his voice echo giving it a sinister quality.

“Everybody abandons you Beorn. Your father died when you were a child. Your mother didn’t love you enough to stay alive. Your brother abandoned because you were too weak. Your mentor died after heading off into the forest alone, not trusting you enough to take you along.”, his words wormed into the ears of Beorn, settling in his mind like a snake.

The snake squeezed, “Aren’t you tired, Beorn? Aren’t you frustrated at your helplessness? Join us. We will give you powers beyond your wildest dreams.”

Roderik opened his mouth to protest before noticing the look in Silas’ eyes. Staying silent, he glared at Beorn as if daring him to accept.

Beorn clenched and unclenched his jaw. He’d spent years training to become stronger so he would never have to experience the pain of losing someone again. Hearing Silas mention all the memories he'd suppressed brought back all the pain and anguish, reminding him that he was helpless once more. But...

I'd have to be completely insane to trust this maniac.

His eyes turned hard and without warning, he spat in Silas’ face. “Don’t mention them with your filthy mouth, asshole.”

Taking out a handkerchief from a pocket, he unfolded it slowly and wiped the spittle off his face before throwing it away.

“Good, good”, Silas broke out in a manic grin, “this will make it more fun.”

“You never were sincere, were you?”

“How clever, so you're not as dumb as you look. I was told to give you a chance, but…”, giggling he reached into his coat and took out a brooch in the shape of a Dragon.

Beorn's eyes widened at the sight of the brooch.

Silas' giggling grew into manic laughter, “Well your brother was the same. When was the last time you heard from him?”

His horror rising, Beorn strained against the ropes, “Let me go Roderik. I'm warning you.”

Unaffected by his struggle, Silas went on, "Would you like to know what happened to him?"

Beorn fought even harder against his restraints. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM! I’LL KILL YOU YOU BASTARD LET ME GO. LET! ME! GO!”

Beorn's vision turned red. He started roaring incoherently trying to reach Silas. His skin turned crimson from the strain, and it took 5 of the Fangs to hold him down.

“How wonderful”, he clapped like a delighted child, “Struggle more, little Beorn.”

Dodging his flailing arms, Silas came in close and whispered in his ear. “Your brother is dead. I killed him.”

The whisper echoed in Beorn’s head. He'd been worried for his brother but now he'd lost all hope. The confirmation of Arwen's death was the last straw, and it broke him. Beorn felt sick. His vision turned dark; his whole body numb. Losing his strength, he fell off the chair and onto his knees.

Unconcerned Silas kept speaking, “I tortured him for a whole day, you know. Didn't say a word until we threatened him with you.”, taking off his gloves he continued, “Oh how he begged me to leave you alone.”

Bending to see Beorn's face more clearly. He shivered, “Oh, I love that expression. It makes me feel alive.”

Caressing Beorn's face with his freezing hand he forced his chin up. “Did you know what I did with his body? I threw it down the Wolven Spire's Abyss. Even in death, he won’t be finding any comfort. I made sure of it.”

Beorn heard nothing, he felt disconnected from reality. His soul felt like it had left its mortal shell.

“Where’s your fight, show me that barbarian blood of yours. It's no fun if you don’t fight.”

Silas scowled and slapped Beorn repeatedly, "Come on show me more of your wonderful expressions. COME! ON!"

Getting no reaction from him, he stopped and stood up. Scratching his head irritatedly he ordered the Fangs to carry him out of the room.

***

They made their way to the dungeon with Beorn trussed up and carried like deer. It was dripping wet; the stone walls were slick with moisture. Holders at regular intervals were occupied by lit torches. Beorn could see the unused cells that lined each side of the dungeon. At the very end of it, the wall that was supposed to be present had been replaced by a gaping hole. Evidence of digging littered the sides of the door. As they stepped through the hole, the light from the torches revealed steep descending stairs of stone, Beorn barely reacted to the fact that there existed hidden stairs in the cellar.

The group made their way down the stairs. Upon reaching the landing they came to a stop in front of massive stone double doors decorated with the Draigkyn Sigil in the center. The dragon was crafted with intricate detail from burnished silver. The ruby eyes glittered in the flickering light of the torches causing it to seem almost alive.

Examining the sigil, Silas snapped his fingers, "Knife".

Roderik rushed to his side to hand him one. Ordering the Fangs to pull up Beorn, he clutched his arm and sliced into Beorn's palm until he saw blood well from the cut. Satisfied he tossed the knife aside before pulling Beorn's hand and pressing it onto the head of the Dragon. A rumbling sound echoed throughout the Manor as the doors swung open to reveal a long corridor with a light shining at the end.

Silas walked in without breaking his stride. Roderik hesitated for a moment but followed with the rest of the Fangs in tow.

“Light the torches”, ordered Silas.

As the Fangs lit the torches that hung from both walls, the massive chamber finally came into view. There were gold coins strewn across the floor like trash. Gems the size of fists glittered from mounds of jewelry. Fine weapons and armour were mounted on mannequins at intervals along the wall. The style was ancient, but the metal seemed like it had been freshly forged. There was no sign of age on any of them.

The light was revealed to be a luminescent pearl the size of a head, clutched by a stone pedestal sculpted in the shape of a dragon claw. As the group came closer, they could see a translucent sphere with colours enclosing the pedestal. Silas stopped before the barrier.

The Fangs were fidgeting all the way, only the fear of Silas prevented them from scrambling to collect as much treasure as they could get their hands on. Roderik swallowed audibly before looking to Silas for permission.

Seeing their expressions, he said lightly, "Don't worry you will get what you were promised. Let me retrieve the Dragonstone and the rest will be yours." Silas drew approached the pedestal before throwing off his cloak. He rolled his right sleeve to expose two glinting Armbands. With his left, he held the brooch and pricked each finger of his right hand. as he was about to place his bloodstained hand on the barrier, Beorn gasped aloud.

A voice had echoed in Beorn’s mind, it felt ancient, majestic, filling his thoughts completely.

‘Your brother is not dead.’

The shock had shaken Beorn out of his stupor and caused him to exclaim out loud before he could control himself.

Silas paused and turned around to study Beorn. A cruel smile adorned his pale face, "Now he wakes up when it's nearly over. Bring him closer. Let him watch helplessly as I retrieve his family's greatest treasure. I want to see the despair." Licking his lips at the prospect, he made his way to the pedestal containing the glowing pearl and placed his right hand onto it.

‘Stay silent’, the voice ordered. ‘Think and I can hear you.’

Roderik whacked the hilt of Beorn’s dagger into his head. Seeing no reaction, he smiled and ordered the rest of the Fangs to drag him closer to the pedestal. He grabbed a fistful of Beorn’s hair with his uninjured hand and jerked it upwards.

Head ringing from the blow, Beorn was forced to look up. Silas had started chanting. Distracted by the fact that his only family might still be alive, Beorn didn’t even try to make sense of the words. Not daring to believe it he asked to confirm the sliver of hope he had been presented with,

‘Brother… Arwen’s still alive?’

'Yes, I sense you are not the last of your bloodline.’

Like a drowning man clutching a rope, he grasped onto the thought that his brother was still alive. A dry sob escaped his lips before he was silenced with another hard knock to his head.

Regaining his balance, he centered himself and took care not to show anything on his face. As he watched, the crimson glow from Silas’ lower band grew brighter as he persisted in pushing his hand through. The barrier was resisting though. The colours flashed with sparks starting to form on the surface.

‘How do you know? And who are you? How are you able to speak in my mind?’

‘I'm in the brooch, you dolt. And I can speak to you because you're a Draigkyn. I am bound to your family's bloodline; it is easy enough to sense its inheritors.’

Making a frustrated noise, the brooch continued ‘I have no idea of the location. Something blocks my perception, but he remains alive. Worry for yourself, the snake will kill you after getting what he wants.’

The barrier was proving a difficult opponent for Silas. The speed of his chanting increased. His forehead was beaded with sweat from the concentration. Veins stood out from Silas' arms he strained to push through to the pearl. Beorn risked a glance to the side to observe his captors. Seeing them occupied with the spectacle, he started wriggling trying to find any leeway in his bonds.

‘I know that already’, Beorn replied while surreptitiously testing his limbs before giving up. Their fear of Silas had motivated them to do a better job, which was unfortunate for Beorn’s chances of survival. ‘But I can't get out.’

Even though he would be unable to fulfill his vow to find Galanör’s killer, Beorn was at peace. At least he'd die knowing Arwen was still alive. He regretted not being able to fulfill his promise to Astrid. Hopefully, they’d never know what happened here.

‘You surrender so quickly? Truly, your ancestors must weep at the sight of their descendants.’

Slightly irritated at being interrupted in his self-loathing, Beorn snapped back at the brooch, ‘Well what help are you going to be? You're just a piece of metal’

‘Humph’, a snort sounded in Beorn's mind, ‘At the very least your courage has not left you completely.’

Silas had finally managed to push his hand through the barrier, his face broke into a wide, manic grin. "Finally, the Dragonstone is at hand," he reached for his prize.

Beorn thought worriedly, ‘If you’re going to do something, right now would be a great time.’

‘Worry not. When I warn you, make sure to get as low to the ground as possible and close your eyes.’

Beorn tensed himself, ‘Okay…’

Silas’ hand made contact with the Dragonstone. Just as he touched it, it glowed with a blinding white light while letting out a high-pitched whine. Silas’ expression morphed into one of terror, “NO!!!!”

‘NOW!’

Beorn dived to the ground and curled up his body.

With a sound like thunder, Beorn heard a massive explosion from the direction of the pedestal. His ears popped and intense, piercing pain shot through them and all noise disappeared. Beorn felt himself be lifted and thrown bodily through the air. Unable to hear or see anything it felt like an eternity before he impacted the ground. Beorn rolled as he tried to disperse the impact, but the wind was still knocked out of him. He felt several small impacts peppered his back. He was in an incredible amount of pain. Beorn wanted to do nothing more than keep lying down right there but remembering that Silas was a Beth ranked Blood-Mage, he decided to get up.

Eyes still closed he realized he couldn’t hear anything either, he reached up to his ears and felt a liquid he assumed was blood. Taking in a deep breath he coughed, choking from the dust he inhaled. Deciding to open his eyes he was unable to see past a few paces through all the dust.

The voice in his mind returned, ‘Make haste. Locate me and the Dragonstone, we must escape.’

Beorn groaned once more, he rolled over to get his hands underneath him. Pushing up he got to his feet or tried to, the world swayed around him as he tried to get to his feet. He wobbled unable to keep his balance with his legs still tied, he decided he was better off crawling on his hands and knees.

‘Where are you?’

‘A few steps ahead. Quickly, the Mage stirs.’

Beorn crawled his way through the debris. The coins and jewelry had been flung about due to the force of the blast. Most of it had broken into shards and fragments that cut into Beorn's hands. He looked up to see that the rest had turned into a glowing mound of molten metal near the pedestal.

Searching around for something cut his ties with, he noticed a broken blade glinting a few feet away from where he had landed. Thanking whatever gods had decided to save him from being impaled, he scrambled for it.

Beorn held it awkwardly in his still tied hands and first cut his legs free before securing the hilt with his thighs and sawing at the rope around his hands without injuring himself. Kicking away the sword, he tried to sit up once more before he fell back down. Beorn rolled onto his hands and knees and searched for a few moments before he noticed the glow of the Dragonstone through the thick dust, a few feet in the front.

‘Finally, some luck. It's pretty close.’

‘Not luck. It was I who caused it and myself to land so close to you.’

Scrambling as quickly as possible he reached it and saw the brooch lying next to it. He cradled the orb with his left hand and clutched the brooch with his right.

‘Why do you crawl? Run boy. He will recover at any moment.’

'I can't keep my balance; my ears are damaged.'

'You are in luck; the Stone contains sufficient power to heal you. Hold me close to the Stone.'

Beorn did as told. Warmth ran through his hand, entering his body and concentrating in his ears. A sound of cork being popped told Beorn his hearing had returned, and with it so did his sense of balance. Beorn brushed himself off and stood, before putting the brooch in his pocket. Still cradling the glowing orb, he noticed it looking a little dimmer although the light was still helpful.

Beorn searched for Roderik; the bastard still had his dagger. He spotted the leader of the Fangs lying a few feet away from where he'd landed; his clothes were shredded by the very treasure he lusted after nearly killing the bastard. He was definitely looking worse than what Beorn felt, making him thankful for the warning.

The brooch chimed in again sounding urgent,‘That is not the way out. The Mage still lives, I am unsure of how much damage he has taken, we need to leave before he recovers.’

‘Give me a moment, I need to take back something.’

Beorn headed towards the groaning Roderik and kicked him viciously in the ribs before retrieving his dagger. He paused for a moment before deciding against ending his miserable life. It was one thing to kill in battle, but Beorn wasn't cruel enough to kill someone unable to defend himself even if it was a worthless sack of shit like Roderik. Satisfying himself with another kick, he made his way to the double doors.