With an air of tranquillity, a man in his thirties strode calmly through a pair of intricately designed double doors. He was attired in loose, flowing white clothing that modestly draped over his body. His bare feet made contact with the soft, dewy grass beyond the doors, a sensation that took him by surprise. As he paused before the threshold, he realised the truth of his situation - he had passed away. When his soul departed his body, a compelling force beckoned him from a distance, urging him to step through the door from which the voice emanated. The voice possessed a seductive quality that was hard to resist, and before he knew it, he had found himself in this enigmatic haven.
The man struggled to articulate his surroundings. It was evident that he was in the heart of nowhere; a variety of trees enveloped the area, while the previously mentioned grass glistened underfoot. Luscious bushes adorned with ripe fruits and berries grew haphazardly around the trees, while a towering cliff loomed in the distance, illuminated by the radiant full moon above.
Although not an outdoorsman by nature, the man found himself drawn to the allure of this landscape. He could not deny the appeal of occasionally camping in such picturesque surroundings.
A sudden voice echoed, jarring the man from his serene surroundings, "Greetings, champion. Welcome to our domain." He searched around for the source of the voice, and his gaze fell upon the cliff in front of him, where he saw something peculiar. Three wolves perched upon the rock, partially concealing the magnificent full moon. The man was taken aback by their sudden appearance but felt an inner voice urging him to greet them calmly. He approached the cliff and addressed the wolves, "Are you the ones who summoned me here?"
"We called, and you answered," responded a different voice from the previous one. The man sensed that it came from the black wolf. "We required a champion, and you came to our aid."
The man sighed, "I suppose technically, I came here of my own accord. But what is it that you require from me? I am merely a deceased man, and I do not know who you three are."
The white wolf, with a feminine voice, spoke, "Death is but the beginning of the hunt. You answered our call to become our champion, and we have a task for you."
"A task?" the man raised an eyebrow.
"Blasphemy has engulfed another world," cried the black wolf. "In this world, our kind is seen as a disease, our blessing is regarded as a curse, and our gift has been desecrated."
"Our kind, blessing, gift?" puzzled the man. "I am afraid you will have to start from the beginning, for I have no idea what you are talking about."
The area fell silent as the man expressed his confusion. The three wolves exchanged glances, and finally, the grey wolf, who had been quiet all this time, stood up and stared directly into the man's eyes. "We apologise for our haste, champion. It appears that you hail from a world that does not possess our blessing or is abandoned by it."
The grey wolf then jumped from the cliff and softly touched the ground just in front of the man. It was now that the man realised that the three wolves in front of him were gigantic; their height alone is probably around 2 metres, a whole 0.2 metres taller than the man himself.
"Abandoned?" inquired the man.
"A question for another day," the grey wolf said, as he began around the man, seemingly thoroughly inspecting his body. "Allies and foes alike have referred to our children as "Children of the Moon," "the Garou," "the Lupine," "the Lycan," "Var-Úlfar," or simply—"
"Werewolves," hummed the man. "Of course, that makes sense, what with you three being wolves and all."
"Correct." The grey wolf strangely nodded. "A kind blessed by us, empowered by the full moon, and superior to humans in every way. They lived long lives, had razor-sharp claws, and lethal bites. Weakness is not in their blood."
"No weakness? I thought werewolves were—"
"Weak to silver? Cannot control themselves under the full moon?" The white wolf that still sat on the cliff chuckled. "Those are but an abomination, an abomination that made us call you here."
"Those weaknesses that you mentioned, as well as the concept of our blessing being a curse and a disease, are all blasphemy." The black wolf continued. "A true being who has been blessed by us has no weakness; they are empowered by the full moon; silver holds nothing against them; their hides are resistant to magic and the elements; their wrath could decimate an entire army; their mind is attuned to nature. We call you here to rid those weaknesses in the worlds that have that blasphemy and replace it with the true gift."
The man stood before the three wolves, his mind reeling with the gravity of their proposal. "So I'll become like your children. A werewolf," he stated, his voice laced with uncertainty. "And how will I do that? How will I rid those worlds of the blasphemy you're talking about?"
The grey wolf regarded him with a solemn expression. "That is up to you to decide," he answered, his voice deep and resonant. "Kill them, convert them; ultimately, we don't care, as long as the world that has that blasphemy has been rid of it."
The man's eyes widened. "And what shall I get? You don't seem like the ones who will force me to do this task without expecting a reward."
"Of course we will give you our blessing, the strongest one we have given to one of our children," the grey wolf assured him. "You will live again; perhaps you will even live multiple lives in the future if we are satisfied with your result. And at the end of your hunt, after your tasks have been completed, we will offer you part of our lives so that you can be like us, a being who sat beyond the constraint of time and space."
"A god?" the man mused, his gaze contemplative. "That's tempting, but it sounds boring. That 'hunt' you're talking about sounds exciting enough if the worlds are different from mine, but ask me again if I want to become like you after the hunt, like you said."
The grey wolf hummed thoughtfully. "Very well, champion. We will give you the knowledge of the world you're in after you've arrived in it; you have to fend for yourself there, remember your tasks, rid the blasphemy inside that world, and give our gift to it."
The man nodded, his expression resolute. "May I know your names, at least? So that I could tell all about you to your children in that world."
But the white wolf cut in before the grey wolf could respond. "You do not need to tell them, child. Having accepted our blessing and following our rules are enough for us."
"Following your rules?" the man echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"You'll know soon enough," the white wolf replied cryptically.
The man let out a sigh. "Then tell me your name just for curiosity."
For a long moment, the wolves remained silent. But then the black wolf stepped forward, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I am Fenrir," he announced.
The white wolf followed suit. "I am Amarok."
And finally, the grey wolf approached the man, his form shifting until he was standing on two feet. His silver eyes bore into the man's own, and he spoke in a voice that seemed to carry the weight of ages. "I am Lycaon," he said. "What is yours, child?"
The man shook his head, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. "I don't know. I can't seem to remember."
"It's expected," Lycaon said calmly. "Death makes people forget about things, even their own names, it'll recover soon enough. No matter, from now on, you are to be called Blaidd, Blaidd of the Cliff of the Moon."
"Blaidd." the man whistled. "A bit weird, but I like it."
Lycaon just nodded at the response. "Then let us meet again at the end of your hunt, child; may the moon always accompany you in your journey."
After that, the man in front of Lycaon, Blaidd, lost his sight, falling into the darkness of the void and leaving the place of the three wolves.