CHAPTER 36 – ENEMY OF MY ENEMY

JOHNNY WOLVESBANE

Lysander's words, "Kill Hiraya Misteltein," hung in the air, chilling me more than the crisp wind of the night. His azure eyes, usually bright with camaraderie, now held a cold seriousness that sent shivers down my spine. No jest danced in those depths; only an unsettling determination.

I remembered the tales whispered in tavern corners: Lysander and Hiraya, a formidable duo. They had taken down a dragon, their names interwoven with tales of bravery and valor against Neo Arcadia. How could the same man who had fought side by side with the elf leader now utter such a treacherous command?

As I tried to make sense of his demand, I noticed the subtle familiarity in his tone. He went directly to my home, the winding path that led to my secluded dwelling, as though he had treaded its route. But our interactions were limited to a fleeting conversation back in the Magic High School. My heart raced. What had I unwittingly shared with him? Doubts crept in, clouding the trust I once held.

Despite my skepticism, I chose to indulge him momentarily, my curiosity outweighing my caution. I eased the door shut, sparing a furtive look in Maggie's direction. From her concealed vantage point near the staircase, she cast watchful eyes, unable to suppress her concern for my solitary encounter with Lysander. A silent exchange passed between us — a reassuring smile and a nod that conveyed understanding. I redirected my focus to Lysander, patiently awaiting my reply. "Seems like there's a conversation waiting to unfold. Step inside," I urged, my invitation hanging in the air like a question mark.

As the door widened, I gestured for Lysander to step into the dimly lit living room, its ambiance accented by the soft glow of the vintage pendulum clock. His eyes darted around, taking in the room's antiquities — the weathered sofa, the polished round glass table, and the timepiece that marked the evening's lateness with its relentless ticking. The hands of the clock pointed firmly at eight, a time reserved for the urgent or the unexpected.

"Take a moment, gather yourself," I said, studying his slightly disheveled appearance. "You seem as though you've rushed here."

He exhaled deeply, attempting to steady his uneven breaths as he sunk into the embrace of the old, creaking sofa. I positioned myself opposite him, our gazes locking in a silent dance of anticipation.

"Earlier, you mentioned something about Hiraya Misteltein," I probed, leaning forward slightly. "Care to shed some light on that?"

Lysander's declaration hung heavy in the room, his words laced with an urgency that sent a ripple of disbelief through me. "To safeguard the world's destiny, Hiraya must be eliminated," he asserted, his eyes holding a fervor that contradicted his earlier calm demeanor.

A chuckle threatened to escape my lips. How could Hiraya, a mere high school student with dreams bigger than her years, hold the keys to such monumental stakes? With each revelation, Lysander's narrative seemed to spiral further into the realm of impossibility.

"You're not making any sense," I interjected, my voice betraying a mix of confusion and skepticism. "Hiraya? An enemy? I've seen you two together. She's your confidant, your comrade."

His gaze grew intense, searching my eyes for a glimmer of understanding. "You don't comprehend the gravity of this," he began, hesitating momentarily as if grappling with the weight of his own words. "I may sound deluded, but believe me, I've traversed time. In a decade, Hiraya—"

My hand shot up, halting Lysander mid-sentence. "Hold on," I interrupted, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "You're weaving a tale that's hard to believe. First, a betrayal, then a world-changing prophecy, and now time travel? It's a lot to digest."

Lysander's determination remained unyielding, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that dared me to doubt him. "I can provide evidence," he asserted firmly.

Cocking an eyebrow, I challenged him, my hands resting defiantly on my hips. "Alright, prove it. Give me something that would make all of this believable."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Lysander's lips, his confidence unwavering. "Maggie," he began, emphasizing each word for effect. "She's more than just a passerby in your life, isn't she? She's your past flame. And her ties with Neo Arcadia run deeper than you might think."

The revelation sent a jolt through me, my fists tightening involuntarily. "How do you know about Maggie?" I demanded, suspicion lacing my words. "Are you working for Gregory?"

Lysander's eyes widened momentarily at the mention of Gregory, the ex-president of the student council. He quickly regained his composure. "No, not Gregory. I learned about Maggie from the future. In the timeline I came from, we were supposed to be best friends. I became a bridge between you two. Call me a third wheel."

My skepticism deepened, and before I could respond, Maggie emerged from the shadows, a kitchen knife gripped tightly in her hand. Her eyes narrowed accusingly at Lysander. "Lies," she spat, her voice tinged with anger. "I've heard from Gregory about a mysterious informant. It had to be you."

"Maggie?" Lysander stammered, shock registering on his face. "You two have crossed paths again?" The air thickened with tension as the threads of the past and future intertwined in an unexpected confrontation.

As the tableau unfolded, clarity dawned on me like a storm breaking. Lysander, the very man before me, was intricately woven into this intricate web of secrets and betrayals. The pieces connected seamlessly: his detailed knowledge of Maggie's Neo Arcadia ties, our home's layout, and the looming shadow of Hiraya Misteltein. We were ensnared in a deadly game, and Lysander—or perhaps more aptly, Hiraya—had been orchestrating the moves.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Lysander rose abruptly, his posture shifting to one of readiness. His eyes held a steely resolve, a testament to the countless battles and skirmishes he'd undoubtedly faced. We were at a disadvantage; Hiraya's faction had already silenced many of our allies from Neo Arcadia, and our names were surely inked next on their grim ledger.

"Damn this butterfly effect," Lysander murmured, his voice a low growl barely audible to most, but not to me. My heightened werewolf senses caught every syllable, amplifying its weight.

Maggie, knife poised in a threatening stance, stepped forward. Her voice, sharp and edged with menace, cut through the tense silence. "With the knowledge you possess, Lysander, you've left us with no choice. You cannot walk away from this."

"Enough!" My voice echoed through the room, a desperate plea laced with urgency. "Lysander, your intentions toward Hiraya Misteltein are clear, right?" My gaze then shifted to Maggie, attempting to calm the storm that brewed within her. "Maggie, isn't it said, 'The enemy of our enemy is our friend?'"

But Maggie wasn't swayed. Her eyes bore into Lysander with an unyielding intensity. "Johnny, think about it. This reeks of a trap, a scheme to deliver us straight into Hiraya's clutches. Remember what happened to Doctor Voltaire? This could be a repeat."

Maggie's logic resonated deeply within me. Every word she spoke painted a clearer picture: Lysander's cryptic words, the ominous undertones, the trap that seemed meticulously set. My blood boiled with a blend of frustration and realization.

"You're a fucking liar then!"

With a guttural growl, my body responded to the tumultuous emotions swirling within. My form contorted, muscles rippling beneath my skin as fur sprouted, painting my limbs a vivid crimson. The transformation surged through me, amplifying my strength and speed exponentially. In an explosive burst, I propelled myself forward, intent on confronting Lysander and uncovering the truth behind his intricate web of deceit.

"Hraaaaaah!"

The resounding crash reverberated through the confines of my home, the aftermath leaving a gaping hole in its wake. Lysander, propelled by the sheer force of my attack, hurtled through the air, his body careening across the terrain like a discarded puppet.

Anticipating Lysander's resilience, I wasted no time in pursuit. Beside me, Maggie unleashed her Partial Dragon Form, her body transforming as emerald wings unfurled, casting iridescent reflections upon the surroundings. Together, our combined strengths led us to the epicenter of the collision, our breaths held in anticipation.

The settling dust unveiled Lysander, rising from the remnants with an eerie poise. With a flick of his hand, he dusted off the dirt, his azure eyes shimmering ominously. A subtle, almost imperceptible glow emanated from within, hinting at powers yet unveiled.

Catching my breath, I broke the silence. "Surviving such a direct assault speaks volumes. You're no ordinary adversary, certainly more formidable than Gregory," I observed, admiration tinged with caution evident in my voice.

Lysander's gaze flickered between Maggie and me, a dawning comprehension shaping his features. "Ah," he murmured, connecting the dots. "So, you two are responsible for Gregory's demise and the others."

Maggie's eyes narrowed, her voice cold and unwavering. "And you're next on that list."

A palpable tension enveloped the room, every second stretching out like an eternity. In unison, Maggie and I locked eyes, a shared understanding passing between us. As our energies intertwined, a radiant golden aura began to envelop our forms, casting a warm, ethereal glow across the room.

With a voice that resonated with power, I declared, "Activating Vesryn Pulse!"