Wimzy clung to him tightly as they flew through the dense, shadowy forest. Her earlier fear of being left behind was now replaced by a growing sense of awe. She had never been part of anything like this before. Despite her unease, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of the mission ahead.
Since the location was already known, Alex didn’t need to follow footprints on the ground like before. Using a broomstick saved a lot of time and energy. Alex and Wimzy flew for about two hours through the chilly air. The Forbidden Forest was still cloaked in darkness, but faint streaks of morning light began to seep through the horizon.
As Alex approached the stronghold, he slowed his broomstick, descending cautiously. A confrontation could break out at any moment, and it wasn’t safe to have Wimzy with him. “Wimzy, wait here. If you’re in danger, activate this amulet and Apparate to safety,” Alex instructed, handing her a communication talisman and keeping his voice low.
“Yes, master,” Wimzy whispered back, carefully tucking the amulet into her robes.
With Wimzy safely positioned, Alex activated his shimmering cloak and disappeared from sight, blending into the surrounding darkness.
Thanks to the memories he had extracted from the werewolf, it only took him ten minutes to locate the target. The stronghold was hidden beneath a rocky hill surrounded by dense vegetation. Creepers and vines snaked across the surface of the stone, giving the appearance of an ordinary, unremarkable mound. The area seemed lifeless, with no trace of activity in sight.
But Alex knew better. The werewolf’s memory revealed that this rocky hill concealed an underground passage leading to a natural cave. Fenrir had the tunnel dug himself, with the entrance cleverly disguised beside the hill.
Still, barging in wasn’t an option. From what he’d learned, a werewolf was always stationed at the tunnel’s entrance. Moving carefully, Alex searched until he found the concealed entrance: a moss-covered, disc-shaped boulder about two meters across. He tapped the stone in a specific rhythm—“tap, tap-tap, tap”—and readied his wand, magic coiling tightly around it in anticipation.
He couldn’t be sure if Fenrir had already returned. If he had, the layout below could be different, but Alex had to rely on the entry code from the werewolf’s memories.
Moments later, muffled rustling echoed from beneath the tunnel. A groggy grumble followed as the boulder slowly slid aside, revealing a gap. An old werewolf, his fur streaked with gray, emerged, yawning and scratching his matted hair. He seemed irritated, as though he had been rudely woken from a deep sleep.
Before the werewolf could fully register what was happening, there was a sharp whoosh. Alex’s spell was fast and precise. The werewolf’s head separated cleanly from his body, falling to the ground with a dull thud. The old werewolf barely had time to process the pain before his consciousness faded completely.
Alex wasted no time. With a flick of his wand, he cast Scourgify to clean the blood from the entrance and dispel any scent that might alert other werewolves. Their sharp noses could detect even the faintest trace of blood, and he couldn’t afford that risk.
Inside the tunnel, Alex surveyed his surroundings. The passage was wide, over three meters tall and equally broad. It was designed to allow the transport of large magical creatures or supplies. The air reeked of decay, a sour, unpleasant odor clinging to the damp walls, which were smeared with stains and clumps of fur. The ground was uneven, littered with dirt and debris. Alex cast a Bubble-Head Charm, relieving himself of the stench.
After sealing the entrance behind him, Alex pulled the shimmering cloak tighter and moved forward, avoiding light. Instead, he relied on the Homenum Revelio charm to detect movement and the faint vibrations of the Echo Spell to map his path.
The reaction of the gatekeeper earlier suggested that Fenrir wasn’t back yet. That was a mixed blessing. On one hand, the absence of their leader meant the stronghold would likely be poorly guarded. On the other, Fenrir’s escape was a loose end Alex would rather have tied up today.
Pushing the thought aside, he continued down the passage. Eventually, a faint light flickered ahead. As Alex approached, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern with a ceiling seven or eight meters high. The cave was dimly lit by enchanted lanterns that cast a cold, bluish glow.
Descending a few uneven steps, Alex found himself in a large chamber. Both sides of the cavern were lined with metal cages of varying sizes. Magical creatures of all kinds were crammed inside, their bodies curled up in uneasy sleep. Some cages were empty, likely awaiting fresh captures.
At the far end of the cave, the space split into three tiers, with stone steps leading up to each level. Iron doors dotted the upper tiers, suggesting they had been repurposed into holding cells or private quarters. Each room was filthy, with floors covered in a mix of straw and fur. The overwhelming stench of uncleanliness was evident, as it was clear the werewolves didn’t care about maintaining even basic hygiene.
Eventually, Alex stumbled upon a larger, more elaborate stone chamber that stood out from the rest. Inside were a makeshift bed and crude furniture. This was clearly Fenrir’s room, the only one with any sign of personalization. Using the same method as before, Alex confirmed there were only four werewolves left in the entire cave system. Most of the chambers were empty, likely belonging to the group he had already encountered and dealt with the previous night.
With the layout and enemy count confirmed, Alex began his mission. It wasn’t an assassination—it was a calculated massacre. Cloaked in near-invisibility, he entered one of the stone rooms, silently approached the sleeping werewolf, and dispatched them with a swift, deadly spell. Before the body even had time to grow cold, Alex was already moving on to the next chamber. The shimmering cloak rendered him undetectable as he repeated this process.
Alex moved with ruthless efficiency, dispatching the remaining werewolves in under a minute. None of them even had the chance to wake, let alone fight back. The air in the chamber grew still as the last werewolf drew their final breath.
With the werewolves eliminated, Alex began a thorough search of each chamber, hoping to find something useful. His hopes, however, were quickly dashed. The werewolves appeared to be destitute. Their meager possessions consisted of half-eaten carrion from unidentifiable creatures and scraps of old, torn clothing.
It wasn’t until Alex entered Fenrir’s personal quarters that he found anything of value. The room reeked of blood, and the floor was sticky with dried stains. Despite his revulsion, Alex forced himself to conduct a meticulous search.