A Wolf's Howl, A Fairy's Wing

And yet, right now, Erik\'s back looked more handsome, more powerful, and safer than anything else she had ever felt.

All his past care, his help, and yes, also the pleasure she had felt because of him, if somewhat indirectly, all came crashing down on her once again, bashing against the gates of her resistance towards him.

She had gone through this kind of revelation a few times already, but perhaps she was finally reaching a point where she could truly let him into her heart.

She was starting to feel like Erik truly saw her as a part of his group.

Tears appeared in her eyes, and she almost said something, but then remembered the situation they were in and quickly shut her mouth again. Yet, her head was now bowed and she barely paid attention to what was happening, as many complicated thoughts and feelings surged through her mind.

Frostfang panned his gaze toward Erik with a look that still held a lot of anger toward him for his defiance and far too casual attitude. "Shut up, boy," he growled. "As I said to Victor before, I\'m weighing my options."

But Victor waved his hand with an angry snort. "Well, you can step off the scale," he said dismissively. "It\'s all or nothing. I might be able to get you something else in exchange for the black-haired girl, but you can forget about war support."

Erik and \'Elora\' both glared angrily at Victor for treating Emily and Elora like trading commodities. "If there\'s a chance later, I want that Victor dead," Erik said to Elora through their link. "He\'s frayed my last nerve."

Elora chuckled and nodded, "Alright, but try not to endanger yourself. We can always kill him later."

"That goes without saying," Erik agreed, before focusing back on Frostfang, who now looked annoyed and frustrated as his gaze panned between Erik and Victor.

Yet, in the end, there was really only one choice for him to make. Setting aside that he didn\'t trust Victor or the Council, his loyalty to Runa didn\'t allow him to give up her son to them.

So, in that case, the most value for the Enclave would be gained by going full in on Erik\'s group, despite knowing that this would surely create future problems with the Council. Right now, his immediate concerns were about the Dominion.

So, finally, he growled towards Erik, "I don\'t like how you\'re forcing my hand this way, boy. But you get your wish. I\'ll take your offer."

He then turned to Victor. "The deal is off," he said, and shortly considered flattening this annoying little shit, but then decided against it, as it would antagonize the Council unnecessarily.

So instead, he simply dismissed the man. "You can find your own way back," he said, and turned to Viljar, intending to start giving orders and prepare for the return to their nearest camp.

But before he could, he heard a low chuckle behind him. "Did you really think it would be over, just like that? The fact is, those two girls have far more future potential than you and this frozen backwater of a wasteland."

Suddenly, he revealed the sigil stone he had been fiddling with and spoke into it. "Move in, now."

No more than half a moment later, a large number of men and women began to stream into Frostvik from several directions, able to do so because all the fighting and sparring in Frostvik over the last few days, left the fence surrounding Frostvik with more holes than swiss cheese.

"Bastard!" Frostfang snarled and, after a transformation that took the mere blink of an eye, did a lightning-fast grab for Victor.

Yet, the man had prepared for this. Just before Frostfang\'s clawed hand reached his throat, Victor crushed a different sigil stone under his foot, one he had already placed there earlier, and…

*Boom*

A small explosion occurred, accompanied by a yelp of pain from Victor.

The explosion was far too light to do anything to Frostfang, but it was just enough to blast Victor into the air together with a large amount of snow and ice.

Victor somersaulted through the air with one leg clearly dislocated, and his clothes in shambles.

In the meantime, a mixed group of thirty menacing second-rank shapeshifters, vampires, and humans, all wearing the colors and symbols of the European Council, had quickly and efficiently surrounded Erik, Astrid, Emily, and the shapeshifters from the Enclave.

"Right on queue," Elora chuckled inside Erik\'s soul, sounding unconcerned. So far, everything had turned out as expected, from the moment she noticed Victor fiddling with that communication sigil stone.

Naturally, she couldn\'t have known the exact number of people that would show up, as they had all hidden outside of her omnisense range, but she had done an estimation based on the strategic information regarding the council\'s forces, which they had gained from Seraphina back in London.

In total, there were currently about 500 second-rankers active in the lands ruled by the council, 99% of whom were employed as elite soldiers.

Taking into account various other assignments, and the more important borders with southern Spain and southern Asia, which Seraphina had also told them about, Elora figured there should be around 60-100 second-rankers in Scandinavia as a whole.

Considering the importance of their capture, assuming they would send a decent chunk of those second-rankers in order to be able to deal with Frostfang was not out of the question.

The only risk was that she couldn\'t have been sure that no third-rank councilor would show up.

Luckily, so far, it seemed things were working out, as the number of second-rankers they brought was manageable according to her plans, and no councilor was in sight.

While Erik and \'Elora\' looked concerned and took fighting stances, with only Erik\'s look being faked, Emily also quickly shook herself free from her earlier daze when the influx of powerful individuals registered in her mind.

Yet, her following concern and anxiety were not as much, perhaps, as they should have been. Erik\'s earlier declaration had provided another significant shift in Emily\'s feelings towards him, and she suddenly felt far safer in his presence.

Astrid, in her Elora disguise, also pulled her new swords from her storage ring, and brandished them, ready to try them out in real combat.

The three of them huddled closer together in preparation for the coming conflict, while Viljar and his group quickly changed form and did the same thing on the other side, their expressions filled with parts anxiety, part fury, and part fighting intent.

The only one who didn\'t react at all was Björn, who continued to kneel on the ground in utter despair and hopelessness. None of this mattered to him. If the council won, he\'d die, and his daughter would remain in their hands. If Frostfang won, it would likely be the same result, as the punishment for treason was usually death.

As for Frostfang, he remained in the middle, in his transformed state, as he kept turning menacingly to all sides and growling threateningly.