All Chapters of Rise Of The Silver Wolf: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

I ran to the spot she was standing just a moment ago. The darkness was instant and absolute, a physical weight slamming down after the searing brightness. I didn’t think; I just moved, scrambling across the unseen floor toward where the light had been centered, where my Mother’s presence had been. My hands swept the cold stone, searching for any lingering warmth, any residual energy, any evidence that she hadn't been a complete illusion. There was nothing. Just the unrelenting cold and the silence. I kept looking around as tears burned behind my eyes, hot and stinging, a physical manifestation of the anguish that was ripping through my chest. The pain wasn't just sadness; it was a profound, wrenching sense of loss, made worse by the terrifying knowledge that she had been here, a hair's breadth away, only to be yanked back into the void. The raw emotion tightened my throat as it tightened, making it hard to draw a clean breath. "Mother..." The word was just a dry, broken sob, swa

It came not from external fear, but from the internal instability left by the vision. It was the residual energy I'd felt stirring, the unsettling sense of a colossal internal change. The room tilted precariously, and a wave of nausea washed over me. The small, focused sight of my hands wavered. I fought to keep a neutral expression. I couldn’t let them see this vulnerability. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief, controlled second, forcing the spinning to stop, forcing the nausea back down my throat. I breathed slowly, deeply, a silent exercise in self-control. Then, the moment was over. Without a word—their unbroken silence was more intimidating than any threat—they bent over in unison. It was a synchronized, robotic movement, emphasizing that they were not individuals, but merely components of a directive. Their large, gloved hands reached out. One figure reached for my left wrist, the other for my right. They secured my arms, not roughly, but with an absolute, non-negotiab

Every step was taken against my better judgment, yet I couldn't stop. I matched their slow, measured pace, a reluctant shadow trailing behind their ominous form. He led me to another door and stopped abruptly. This door was different. It wasn't massive like the main entrance to the hall. It was darker, older-looking, and seemed to drink the light around it, yet I could sense a massive amount of energy emanating from it. It felt like a solid wall of magic, not wood or stone. The figure paused, their back still to me, and the air between us crackled with anticipation. This was the destination. This was where the answers, or the end, lay hidden. The moment I walked to the entrance of that door, something snapped in me. It was a sharp, distinct soundless fracture, like a taut cord breaking deep inside my chest. It wasn’t a pain, but a profound, instant release of tension, followed by a terrifying emptiness. The compelling force vanished, replaced by an internal chaos that was far worse.

Suddenly the scene changed and now I was standing at a battlefield. The soft warmth of the nursery was violently ripped away, replaced by a searing, choking blast of heat. The sound was deafening, a chaotic symphony of human agony and monstrous aggression that assaulted my ears. The air I breathed was thick and toxic, filled with the acrid stench of burning houses, flames, smoke and screams. It was pure, unadulterated war, a visceral nightmare that seemed to swallow the light. My paralysis was gone, replaced by a horrified immobility as I took in the devastating panorama of destruction. The world around me had gone from the quiet moment of creation to the desperate, final moment of its undoing. I felt myself instinctively pull my arms over my head, though there was no immediate physical danger, only the terror of being immersed in such violence. My eyes frantically scanned the chaos, seeking one small point of clarity, one island of recognition in the sea of violence. But among the

Mother...!! The scream was trapped in my chest, a word of agony and absolute loss. The sight of her, unmoving, her dark hair splayed across the ash-covered ground, was a rupture in the world's order. She had been the heart, the protector, and now she was gone. I tried to say or even run to her but I was glued to the spot. My immobility was a torture more refined than any physical pain. My body vibrated with the need to rush forward, to intervene, to scream a warning to Father, but the unseen chains held me fast. Frustration and anger bubbled within me as I watched helplessly. The raw, impotent fury was overwhelming. It mixed with the grief, a scalding cocktail of emotions that threatened to shatter my consciousness entirely. I was forced to be a witness, a passive observer to the absolute destruction of my world. The tears now falling freely were not just for the terror; they were for the injustice of my captivity, for the helplessness of being present yet incapable of action. I coul