[Webnovel ©Lynnifer Ice]

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In the middle of a thunderstorm, a lone rider leads his horse in haste through the dense forest. His destination is a secluded slayer guild hidden deep in the mountains specializing in the assassination of werewolves. The guild's name is Last Dawn. A lightning bolt strikes a nearby oak tree, causing it to fall in the rider's path. The horse whinnies in distraught, nearly knocking her rider off her back. The rider remains calm and guides the horse around the fallen tree before returning to a full gallop.

The rain continues to pelt down on the rider and his horse as they weave through the trees on a non-existent path, using only their instincts to guide them. Soon enough, they come to a clearing as thunder rolls across the sky. Werewolf skulls are presented on spikes, placed in various places to make an eery path to the guild entrance. The wooden and cemented stone building is covered in moss and creeping vines. Above the doorway hangs a plaque with the letters carved out of bones: Last Dawn. The rider leads his horse down the path and dismounts when they reach the doors. He grabs a satchel that had been secured to the horse's saddle and then slowly pushes one of the wooden doors open.

"State your business stranger or perish where you stand," a powerful but cold voice rings out.

The rider freezes as a throwing dagger strikes the ground between his feet. He grips the strap of his leather satchel. His heart feels as if it is about to leap out of his chest as he peers into the candle-lit Guildhall. He gulps, unable to keep from shaking in fear.

"I- I'm a messenger sent here from Pinewood city. I bring with me an urgent request from the elders!" The rider manages to make out after stuttering.

"An urgent request? Do come in then, messenger boy," the powerful voice responds with a hint of amusement.

The rider immediately steps into the Guildhall. The door behind him slams shut, causing him to jump. A round of sinister laughs follows around the room. Torches are lit to accommodate the rider's eyes better. An older man with a long beard, dressed in black, is sitting in what could be mistaken for a throne chair at the very far end of the Guildhall. Over six dozen other faces are scattered around the room, with all eyes trained on the rider. The rider glanced around and noticed more people staring at him from a balcony. His eyes snap back to the older man when he hears a huff of annoyance.

"Don't ignore the Guild Master. Come here, boy, and show me the request scroll," the elderly Guild Master said with disapproval of the rider's timid behavior.

"Ah, yes, Sir! Right away!" The rider quickly rattles before rushing down a long brown-furred carpet to the Guild Master. Once there, he bows in respect, holding out the scroll in front of him in two hands, his eyes trained to the floor. "Guild Master Wyett, I humbly beg you to please take our request into consideration as it is a matter of life or death!"

"A matter of life or death, you say? Hmm…," the Guild Master hums in amusement as he takes the scroll from the rider's hands. "Let's see here…," he mutters as he unrolls the scroll to read the citizen's request. His eyes narrow as he reads down the messy ink…

'We, the citizens of Pinewood City, are requesting immediate assistance from the Werewolf Slayer Guild: Last Dawn. As you may know, in recent months, people have been disappearing in the middle of the night, both man and woman alike! However, in recent weeks, the disappearances have been confirmed as kidnappings by the Silvermoon Werewolf Clan, and the amount has tripled! We beg you to put a stop to these kidnappings once and for all! As an additional request, we ask that if it is possible, please return any citizens you may find on your journey, even the dead. We are more than willing to pay any price for this job!!!'

"So, it seems that our long-standing war status with the Silvermoon Clan has rekindled the flame," the Guild Master said through clenched teeth. "It's time to crush our enemy once and for all, just as our ancestors tried countless times before us!" He addressed every guild member in the Guildhall before his gaze returned to the rider, who was now standing straight at attention. "We shall accept your request, messenger boy. Go now and give your city the answer of Last Dawn."

"Oh, thank you, Guild Master Wyett!" The rider exclaimed with eyes filled with hope.

"Are you deaf?" The Guild Master asked him. "I said GO," he bellowed.

The rider bowed and hurried off without another word. Guild Master Wyett turned his head toward the balcony, where only S-Class Members were allowed. He huffed in annoyance when he could not find the face he sought. He pounded his fist against the armrest of his chair as he shouted.

"Where is Azariah?!"

"Master, she's out on an assignment right now. She left three days ago, so she should be back soon," an S-class assassin named William remarked. "Please, be patient. Otherwise, why not send someone else, like me?~"

"Send you?" The Guild Master taunted, "You know Azariah is our strongest assassin. She could take your life in a fight blindfolded! I'm sending her for this assignment. Besides… To fatally wound a beast, you must cut off the head. That head just so happens to be the strongest alpha in the land… Arcadio Hrodwulf. You wouldn't last half a day in his presence."

"Master, aren't you being unfair?" William retorted. The Guildhall fell silent as a dark aura surrounded the Guild Master.

"Are you saying you wish for me to shorten your life, William? I have no qualms with that," he threatened.

"N-No, Master… I apologize. I- I was in the wrong…," William quickly bowed in his apology.

"If apologies solved everything, we wouldn't have rules and laws in place," the Guild Master seethed. "Black-eye, Silvertongue!" he roared. Two members stepped forward, giving a loyal bow.

"Yes, Master Wyett?" They responded in unison.

"Take Mr. William to the yard and beat him bloody. Then, I want you to cut out his tongue. I want him alive so, don't go overboard this time as you did with Smith," the Guild Master ordered without an ounce of emotion.

"Yes, Master. Consider it done," they answered in unison once more before making their way up to the balcony to grab a shivering William.

"No, no, wait! Master, please! I- Mmph!" William tried to plead before his mouth was stuffed, and he was dragged out of the Guildhall, kicking and screaming.

"Does anyone else have a problem with Azariah having the assignment?" Guild Master Wyett boomed as his eyes scanned the dimly-lit room. Not a soul said a word. Satisfied, he nodded his head, "Good. That's what I thought. Now, someone go fetch that woman. I have a feeling she got lost again trying to find her way back. Wait until sunset before you leave."

"As you wish, Master," the guild members recited.

The not-so-muffled screams of William carried through the afternoon and lasted until dusk.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the mountain, at the base, Azariah was cleaning her bloodied blade by a small fire, utterly unaware that soon, some of her guild members would be coming to retrieve her.

- End of Chapter One -