Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 92: Without Hope

Chapter 92: Without Hope

The Ocean brothers sat scattered across the stone steps just outside the Guild quarter—Shylo quietly pacing, Johnny chewing at a cracked fingernail, Milo twirling a loose thread on his sleeve, Kenneth sitting with his jaw locked so hard it looked painful. Apollo stood apart, arms folded tightly, eyes lost somewhere on the horizon.

Then—she appeared.

Miss Laurant stepped into view, cloak flicking behind her. No flash of wind, no magical aura, no grand entrance.

Just her.

They jumped to their feet as one.

"Miss Laurant!" Milo said, eyes wide. "Did you find him? Is the Guild sending search teams—what’s the plan?"

Apollo took one step forward, but something about her face made him freeze.

She didn’t speak at first.

Didn’t look anyone in the eye.

Then finally, softly:

"They... they won’t help."

It landed like a rock dropped in a silent lake.

"What?" Shylo asked, too quiet.

"They refused?" Johnny said, louder.

"That can’t be—" Milo stepped closer. "He’s a child. He’s one of us!"

Apollo’s fists trembled at his sides. "Why wouldn’t they—"

Miss Laurant raised a hand to silence them, her eyes shadowed.

"They said... there was not enough clear evidence to classify it as an official abduction. It doesn’t meet their urgency criteria."

It was a lie. A clean, institutional lie.

And the way she said it—measured, rehearsed—only made the truth beneath sting more.

"I’m so sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "But I promise you, I’m not giving up. I’ve already started tracing leads myself. I’ll use every connection I have to track where Amari could’ve been taken."

Kenneth turned away, fists clenched at his sides.

The others burned with silent frustration.

And Apollo...

He stayed frozen in place, staring at the ground. At nothing.

...

The wind was clean up here.

No blood. No tension. Just sky.

The pegasus glided smoothly across the clouds, its wings catching the gold of the afternoon sun. Below them, the world spilled open—rivers threading like veins through the valleys, mountains rising like bones beneath the land. Forests shifted in ripples as wind rolled over them.

Amari sat behind Tobias, his chains now tucked at his side, ropes long since discarded. For a rare moment, he wasn’t thinking about escape.

Just... watching.

"It’s beautiful," Amari said quietly. "Didn’t think you’d be the type to tame a mythical beast."

Tobias snorted. "This thing? Back home, everyone’s got one. They’re like fancy horses with egos. You break ’em young and they’ll follow you across hell if you ask."

Amari raised an eyebrow. "So we’re flying through hell now?"

Tobias didn’t answer. Just grinned into the wind.

Then Amari’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching movement in the corner of his vision—a flicker of black cutting through the sky just far enough behind them to look unbothered.

"That crow," Amari muttered. "It’s still following us."

Tobias didn’t even look back. "It’s mine. Well... technically my client’s. He loaned it to me for this job. Helps with tracking."

"I saw it in Scyl Village," Amari said. "Been tailing us since then."

"And you didn’t say anything?" Tobias asked.

"I figured if it was trouble... it would’ve acted already."

Tobias laughed once, rough and short. "Smart kid."

But in his tone, there was something else.

...

Snow flared across the mountain path like shards of glass caught in the wind.

The pegasus landed with a heavy beat of wings, talons crunching into the thick snow just before Tobias slid down from the saddle. Amari followed shakily, breath hitched as icy wind bit at his skin. His clothes, torn and dirtied from the journey, offered no protection.

He gritted his teeth, arms crossed tight around himself.

Tobias didn’t seem fazed. His coat caught the breeze like a banner and he adjusted the saddlebag before jerking his head forward. "It’s not far. Come on."

They began to walk.

The ground crunched beneath their boots, and even their footsteps felt swallowed by the vastness of it—white hills stretching in all directions, visibility wavering in the storm. Amari’s legs stung. His fingers felt useless.

Then the silhouette of the house emerged through the snow.

No. Not a house.

A mansion.

It rose like something out of forgotten scripture—wrought iron gates open just enough to slip through, snow curling against marble steps. The structure stretched tall and narrow with twisted balconies, arched windows, and stone buttresses that looked more like claws than supports.

The architecture was almost beautiful.

But not in the way that warmed the heart.

It was beauty carved from fear—elegant and menacing. The kind of place that made you whisper without knowing why.

They stepped closer.

Two men stood flanking the massive double doors. Both wore matte-black cloaks trimmed with pale silver, eyes unreadable beneath mirrored visors. They didn’t speak.

Didn’t even blink.

Tobias gave them a silent nod.

One of the guards stepped aside and reached toward the heavy doors.

Boom—

They opened slowly with the groan of ancient hinges. The wind howled against the sudden change in pressure. And before them: dim candlelight flickering down an impossible hall, carpets woven in blood-red and ash gray.

Tobias didn’t pause.

And neither, now, did Amari.

The guards stood still at the threshold, but as soon as Tobias stepped forward with Amari at his side, they recognized him. Not a word was spoken—just a shared glance—and the massive doors slowly creaked open.

As they crossed inside, the air changed instantly.

Warm, yes—but thick. Heavy with something Amari couldn’t name. Not fear. Not magic. Just a pressure. An atmosphere built to remind you where you were.

The inside of the mansion was stunning.

Grand black-tile floors shimmered with soft enchantment under a sea of chandeliers. Spiral columns cradled the ceilings like frozen stone vines. On the walls—portraits of all kinds. Painted faces stared out from gilded frames, many stern, a few regal... all unsettling.

It wasn’t just decorated.

It was curated. Like a museum of bloodlines.

Amari barely had time to drink it in when movement above caught his eye.

A woman stepped forward at the top of the grand staircase, clad in a snow-white fur coat that trailed behind her. Her long platinum hair was braided tight, her gaze sharp and cold as the mountain wind.

She spoke with elegance.

But the words were dipped in an unmistakable Russian accent.

"So... this is him," she said, her voice like glass on velvet. "The little boy who causes such trouble for my family."

Amari blinked up at her, confused by her tone and unsure of her meaning.

Tobias gave her a short nod. "He’s here. Delivered. As agreed."

She took a few graceful steps down, her heels clicking lightly on the stairs.

"Mm. You gave us headache, da? You think you are clever, running, hiding... But now?" She let her eyes sweep over him slowly. "Now, you are here. And I am... not impressed."

Something about her cadence sent a chill deeper than the snow had managed to.

Amari stood still, but inside—his heart was racing.