Rain lashed at the glass windows, as if with a whip, causing them to shudder. Lightning flared out in the inky black sky occupied with a storm, illuminating the dimly lit hallway. Thunder growled menacingly outside like a lion preparing to pounce, preparing to kill.

The Black Admiral Finnegan Seawalker sped down the hall as fast as he could with slick, drenched boots. He was an hour late to report news to his boss about a very important matter, one that would determine the outcome of the Amethystine Empire. As she had kept saying, “It is vital if the Empire is to thrive;” so what had occurred was important to discuss, if the Empire was to live on.

However, Finnegan Seawalker had bad news concerning the situation. His worry about how this interview was going to turn out increased as he continued to scurry down the hall, skidding when the floor was especially slippery or when rounding a corner. What if this went terribly wrong and he was in his last hour at the moment? Just think about it...he had a charming son, a wonderful job, and a happy life; however, if his news upset his boss, he might not even get to say goodbye.

The Admiral halted at a large iron door with two guards positioned on either side of it. They were both tall and burly, looking as if they could knock anyone out cold in the wink of an eye. Dragon-hide armor clothed them, gray cloaks made from some kind of fur draped off their shoulders, and dangerously sharp spears were grasped tightly in their thick hands.

“Hullo, boys,” the Admiral said quietly to them, half hoping that they would finish him off before he reached his employer so he wouldn’t have to endure her wrath. He took off his soaking hat and looked up into their cold eyes very warily.

“You’re late, Seawalker,” the guard to the left snapped in his gruff voice.
Finnegan flinched, hating to be reminded of that.

“Yes, I know, thank you,” Seawalker shot back, starting to lose patience. “So can I see her, or do I have to go home?”
The guards both grunted consent to letting him in and pulled the large iron handles back so Finnegan Seawalker could enter.

The gloomy stone room was cold, but the person behind its walls was colder and even more dangerous. She sat back, curtained by the shadows, in a silver throne lined with wolf fur and decorated with carvings of wolves, elbow propped up on an armrest supporting her head. A large shaggy black wolf lay relaxed yet aware at the foot of the throne, yellow eyes glowing and glaring fixedly on the shaking Admiral, warning him that his owner won’t give mercy for any wrongs.

The Admiral walked in shaking with his head down and stood facing the throne that was hidden in the shadows, biting his lip in fear of what was about to happen in this little meeting. Rain was spilling from his soaked garments and pooling around the wet boots he wore, causing the floor to become wet. The iron doors clanged shut behind Seawalker, sealing him in with a boss that was going to be mad and that could potentially kill him. With courage, he lifted his head to the shadows and waited.

The person seated on the throne shifted in her seat, getting comfy and preparing to question to see if her plan had gone accordingly. Even though he couldn’t see her eyes, the Admiral knew that they were watching him, like a predator eyeing its prey.

“Admiral, what news do you have of Reximus?” she inquired, hoping for a lick of something good. She had a bitter-sweet voice, like icicles, being both fascinating and yet so cold and so dangerously sharp.
Admiral Finnegan Seawalker answered, his voice quavering, expecting the worst to come. “He is dead, Silverwolf.” His voice shook in an ever so frightened way now that the moment that he was dreading was so close. “The Tormentor’s Curse has ended his life, just as you have planned for it to.”

“That is most excellent,” replied Silverwolf, sounding very pleased. “And what about the boy?”

Admiral Seawalker gulped as he continued giving his report, his whole body shivering now under her intense glare. “Well, you see...we don’t know, exactly...but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t dead…and...”

He cowered as Silverwolf rose from the throne in a threatening way. The wolf at her feet tensed and leapt to his own feet, growling at Admiral Seawalker. “What?!” She screamed as she emerged from the shadows, her nostrils showing just how furious she was, and the scars on her face rippling with anger. Lightning cracked against the sky as thunder bellowed, as if they were also telling Seawalker that he was disgraceful and a failure.

“I am so sorry!” the intimidated Admiral exclaimed, his voice an octave higher than usual. “We honestly tried to kill the boy and Sparrow, but they somehow escaped and now their whereabouts are unknown. You know how crafty and sly that Malina can be--”

“Enough!” roared Silverwolf, and calmed down to a dangerous level, anger still remaining in her voice. Her hands choked the arms of the throne, turning her scared knuckles ghostly white. “Did Reximus have it, at least?” she asked in a deathly cool voice. Rain continued to beat the windows like it was going to break them and sweep the poor Admiral away into a land of eternal punishment.

“N-no, ma’am,” stammered Admiral Seawalker in what was barely more than a shuddering whisper.
Deathly calm still, Silverwolf spoke, obvious dissatisfaction for her employee dripping in her voice. “You will find Sparrow and the boy, kill them, and bring the object I desire to me. Is all that clear?”

“Yes, Silverwolf.”
Silverwolf continued. “Do it subtly, and don’t tell a soul what you are doing and who sent you. I want you to go with speed, but also with accuracy. This must be done, it is vital if the Empire is to thrive. And you will keep me posted on everything.”

“Yes, Silverwolf.”

“Good. Don’t fail me again, Finnegan.”

“Yes, Silverwolf.” The miserable man bowed as thunder let out another shriek of laughter at Seawalker and his failings. With that, the Admiral left to start his mission, wondering if he was going to succeed or become meat for Silverwolf’s vicious pet wolves.