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Chapter 4: Wolf Magnus

Orage set the scene for the fashion to be seen later in the night. A beautiful
woman, seductive in her disposition, was relatively mild with her red dress
which flowed elegantly and hung loosely where needed. It was an unusual
style, specifically for her and not the rest of the public, but tonight was going
to be rather unorthodox.
At the end of the red carpet, she did a little twirl and a set of flames danced
and flicked at the end of her dress. The crowd and press cheered as they
witnessed a marvelous transformation. A red dress turned into the color of a
daisy as the fire appeared to burn the dye away leaving the art of a white
landscape in its place.
The moment people thought she was about to bow, she spun around yet
again and snowflakes floated and danced around her as the dress became
violet in color, tight in form, and elegant in style. Orage didn’t like white or
loose items; it never suited her, but what did satisfy her was her body. She
was what men and women alike desired at any given moment and later
envied in their dreams.
Finally, she bowed to a roar of applause and her brother stepped out of the
car. There wasn’t much difference in what they wore; both of them always
accentuating the sexual parts of their bodies. Black is always fashionable for
a suit but Ouragan chose a striking gold blazer.
His body was desired by many, like his sister’s, and he was incredibly
photogenic and appealing to the eye. People envied Ouragan and Orage
since they were so perfect physically and mentally. Pretty people aren’t
always dense, foolish, or ignorant.
If they both had anyone to thank for their qualities, it would be their ancestors
who spent years of breeding and inbreeding in order to produce the best
traits. The Fords were known for their unattainable beauty and wealth.
“I heard some interesting news this afternoon,” Ouragan bowed with his
sister before they both shot their fists up triumphantly to more cheers and
applause.

Orage grabbed her brother’s arm and they glided to the entrance of the
palace, “I wonder what tonight’s first rumor is going to be.”
“Some say Falcon is with a Minotaur.”
“Since when?”
“Since a slave owner, specifically a woman, reported to the police of a man
who managed to appear out of the air inside her apartment and murdered her
husband,” Ouragan informed as he pulled out his invitation out of the blazer
pocket.
The guard snatched it form his hands and analyzed it carefully, “You two are
allowed passage.”
Orage seemed annoyed, “It’s just Wolf Magnus who’s throwing a royal
gathering, not a Titan.”
“I have the power to kick you both out.”
“And I have the power to make sure you lose your job,” Orage replied sternly.
They both entered brashly and committed and unnecessary arrogant act
since the sliding doors weren’t quick enough to move out of the way. They
walked in to see no one inside the Royal Wing ball room. The only people
were servants who stood around chatting with other peasants. Ouragan was
quick to punish them.
“How dare you not deliver a bottle of champagne within my reach!” He
screamed and the servants, dressed in black signifying they were of lower
nobility, instantly started moving around.
One came by, offered a glass of wine to Orage, and then made himself
scarce, “You didn’t need to do that.”
“Do you know what being first in the door means?”
“We have to have everything set and we quite literally just told people what to
wear when they arrive on time or on Falcon time; however, the Lower Nobility
don’t know how shut their mouths. Your reputation for treating slaves and the

indentured highly is going to fade,” Orage stated as she looked around to see
a bustling that didn’t exist in the room before.
Chugging her glass, she stomped on the expensive tile floor with her heel,
“You all can go back to your leisurely activities as I apologize for my brother’s
insolence.”
As if it were an order, the indentured returned to chatting about whatever
gossip their petty lives could generate, “You didn’t need to call me insolent.”
“I don’t need to call you many things. When is the Morgan arriving?” Orage
asked as she drifted to the other end of the ballroom.
The doors slid, this time quickly, out of her way as she witnessed the Dining
Hall filled with glass circular tables, “Magnus really wants to impress
someone with those tables.”
“He even got the latest design with Falcon OS,” Ouragan added, “He told me
he would arrive early.”
“I thought he usually came late.”
Ouragan went to his right and down a corridor, “Something tells me that
walking into the middle of the party with a Minotaur is bound to generate
some controversy.”
“With the powerless conservatives.”
“They aren’t powerless.”
Ouragan now stepped into the Inner Garden beautifully decorated with the
natural as well as the metal. Sculptures of ice rose into the sky while metal
objects blended with bush to create a mountainous cascade of water. They
walked to the edge and witnessed the majesty of the Lower Garden;
comparatively more extravagant than where they stood.
“How are they not powerless?” Orage asked.

“Unfortunately the conservatives still possess as much money as we do in
government which wouldn’t be a problem if the Morgans still handled the
bank.”
Orage sighed, “Unfortunately, they were broken up by progressive leaders.”
“Unfortunately, Falcon doesn’t hold as much power as he used to.”
“He’s still capable of enormous leverage and being a Guardian further
enhances the ability,” Orage checked her phone to see who else would be
arriving.
“I sure hope the Enzo’s aren’t coming,” Ouragan commented as his sister
followed him back inside.
Orage motioned for her brother to follow her and they walked through the
various halls and rooms. Wolf Magnus, the host of the party, was one of the
wealthier aristocratic members of parliament; however, he wasn’t as wealthy
as the Fords, Enzos, Rockefellers, Morgans, just to name a few. Orage and
Ouragan were the leaders of the government and they had a say in
everything that passes due to their enormous wealth.
It was clear that Magnus was attempting something tonight but the intelligent
Fords couldn’t find a reason as they blathered on while walking through the
palace. They never really walked so much as smoothly placed their feet
carefully in front of them so as to not disturb even the most able phantom.
Some say that their walk represents how many corpses they have in their
coffins.
It only took seconds for Ouragan to begin to feel uncomfortable just walking
from place to place. His entire soul felt as though it were being pulled out,
analyzed, outside of his corporeal form. Quickly, he forced Orage to stop and
sit in one of the intricately designed, surreal lounge.
The bartender looked at the two walking in, “Do you guys want anything?”
“No, we are just here to rest,” Orage answered as her brother’s tone turned a
pale gray.

“You guys got here impressively early,” the bartender commented, “Is it
because of Falcon?”
Orage raised an eyebrow, “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“Rumor has it that he’s bringing a, and I quote, ‘abomination’ to the beautiful,
peaceful gathering.”
The bartender had a peculiar expression as Ouragan’s color returned to his
normal white and Orage simply smiled at him. Wait, she wasn’t smiling at
him. Her gaze was slightly shifted to his right.
The bartender jumped when he found Falcon smiling deviously at him, “How
did you manage to even enter the palace Mortem?”
“I don’t know how you can see right through the mask,” Mortem picked at
the side of his bearded face, “but I guess I should expect that from a
Morgan.”
He got a good grip on the mask and slowly peeled off what looked like an
entirely different layer of skin. The aloof bartender was replaced with
comparatively affable young man. Handsome in all respect of the word, his
hair was a dirty brown, shaved at the sides so that it faded from a spiky top
to nothing, and his eyes were bright green. His skin was a light tan and his
smile brought light to the room.
Finally, his body left even Varan staring and Mortem certainly noticed, “I’m off
limits in case you were wondering.”
“A Rockefeller hidden in plain sight. Glad you put that mask to good use.”
Orage looked around sardonically, “I don’t see a photographer anywhere in
here.”
“I’m waiting for my other friends to arrive. Then, when Vasti gets here, I will
steal his spotlight and his position will be rendered more uncomfortable due
to the fact that he has no one to talk to besides the host of the party.”
Mortem’s slight smirk slowly turned into a dead stare at the ground. Of
course, Ouragan had to notice the expression.

“Why the—”
“I thought it would be pretty easy for any of you to figure out why I’m in
disguise,” Mortem quickly answered the question.
Without a warning or even a sign, he dropped down behind the counter and
opened an elongated freezer which housed various glasses. Inside, Falcon
saw his imminent exile. The one job he had as a Guardian was to protect the
Titans and its affiliates; he had already failed his first task.
A fat man, clearly out of his prime, looked at both Varan and Falcon coldly.
There was no life in his eyes, but the judgmental stare of Wolf Magnus still
penetrated their minds. As Orage and Ouragan watched their expressions
slowly change into terror, they realized what they couldn’t see.
“Where’s Vitae? Maybe I can change something in the past,” Falcon’s eyes
shined with hope.
“No, we played around with the different scenarios in our minds. Vitae
changed the past and I warped the future and nothing seemed to work. The
same outcome and the same fate always awaited you,” Mortem informed the
rest of the party.
Vitae emerged from the entrance and looked around, “You need to tell him
the most important detail.”
Mortem grimaced at the thought and tears nearly flowed, “I’m sorry. I can’t
tell them.”
“I don’t even want to imagine what he is seeing right now,” Vitae added
before he focused on Varan, “Falcon, I need you to listen to me closely.”
The pressure and strain of the moment stretched the lounge for miles as
silence filled whatever empty space it could find. Falcon had a suspicious
feeling of what one of them would say. He always could count on Vitae and
his honest blue eyes, he was colder compared to his relative, but was he so
sure in the fact that nothing could be done?

Falcon stared closely at the man in front of him; he appeared more deceiving
when closely analyzed. He was still as handsome as Mortem, but his face
was less affable, almost angrily distant. They both expressed their emotions
differently and something was upsetting Vitae beyond what he could handle.
“You are going to be exiled by the Titans tonight. Varan won’t be going with
you because he will have his funeral tomorrow morning with millions
watching and thousands attending.”
...
Falcon opened his eyes and realized he had been talking for over two hours.
He pressed a button and the camera disappeared into the dashboard of the
spaceship. The crystal which shined in a variety of colors was still sitting in
his lap.
“I want you to research systems which were abandoned by the Siloteri,”
Falcon stated as he left the pilot cabin.
“Understood,” A computerized voice resonated throughout the lonely,
confining spaces of the ship.
Falcon looked at the open space of the living area and sighed before moving
down a corridor. He took a couple steps until he reached the fifth door on his
right and it slid open, allowing his passage. He searched around the room,
looking for someone, before finally lying on the bed with the crystal still in his
hands.