Part 1
Liam remained nestled in the marquesa's lap, his eyes shining as he listened to the end of the story. The room was still shrouded in a soft twilight, illuminated only by the gentle light of candles scattered among the old furniture. The shadows danced on the walls, keeping pace with the calm rhythm of the marquesa's voice as she finished recounting the tale of the young wolf.
As the last of her words faded into the air, Liam suddenly sat up, his face full of excitement. "I always love it when you tell that story!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling.
"The wolf's father is such a cool hero! He fought till the end to protect his family."
The marquesa smiled at Liam's enthusiasm, her eyes filled with a tenderness she rarely displayed. "He really was a hero." she agreed, nodding slowly.
"But, my dear, there's a part of the story I've never told you."
Liam blinked, surprised and curious. "What? A part you've never told? What happened?"
"After a few years…" she began, her voice low and engaging.
"The little wolf was no longer a small cub. She had grown and become someone important within her pack."
Liam leaned in closer, completely absorbed. "Did she become strong like her father?"
"Yes, strong and brave." the marquesa continued, her eyes gazing at a distant point as if visualizing the scene she was describing.
***
The rain poured heavily, each drop cold and relentless as steel, hammering the leaves of the trees and soaking the forest floor. The wind blew fiercely, bending branches and tossing leaves and small twigs into the air. The only light was the intermittent flash of lightning cutting across the sky.
Wysa, now a grown and imposing wolf, walked ahead of her group, her strong paws sinking into the muddy ground. The other wolves followed closely, their wet fur plastered to their muscular bodies. Wysa's eyes were focused, attentive to any movement or sound around, despite the deafening noise of the rain and wind.
She felt the storm's force in her bones, as if nature mirrored the internal turmoil she always carried with her. The forest, once her safe home, now seemed full of invisible threats, shadows lurking beyond the trees, buried memories that still haunted her.
"Chief." a firm voice cut through the storm's noise, making Wysa stop abruptly. One of the wolves, a large male with visible scars along his flank, approached her, shaking the water from his fur.
"We found something ahead. A raven chick, fallen on the ground. It's alive, but barely moving."
Wysa frowned, the title he used to address her still sounding strange in her ears. Even after all these years, being called "chief" still felt like a heavy responsibility, a role she had taken on more out of necessity than desire.
"A raven?" She repeated, her voice firm but with a tone of surprise. The memory of her parents' battle with that fateful raven flashed in her mind, the bitter taste of a loss that never completely faded.
"Where is it?"
"Just ahead, under a fallen tree." the wolf replied, moving to guide her. Wysa followed him, feeling a knot form in her stomach. The other wolves kept close but silent, respecting her leadership.
They arrived at a small clearing where an old, partially rotting trunk had fallen, likely struck by lightning from the storm. The ground around it was covered in leaves and broken branches, forming a makeshift nest for the raven chick, which was huddled against the trunk, its tiny wings trembling and its chest heaving with effort.
Wysa stood before the creature, her eyes fixed on the tiny black body, drenched and vulnerable. The raven was minuscule, its feathers still not fully developed, and its eyes half-closed, as if the struggle to stay awake was about to be lost.
"It's weak." observed another wolf, a female with dark fur, crouching beside Wysa.
"Probably fell from the nest during the storm."
"We should end this quickly." suggested a third wolf, his voice carrying a cold practicality.
"Letting a raven chick grow up on this side of the forest could be dangerous. It might become our enemy."
Wysa remained silent for a moment, watching the helpless chick. A storm of emotions enveloped her, past memories and present reality colliding in her mind. The adult raven that had destroyed her childhood, and this fragile chick, barely able to lift its head… They might belong to the same species, but they were not the same creature.
"No." Wysa said finally, her voice firm.
"We're not going to kill it."
The other wolves looked at her in surprise, some even with disbelief. "But, Wysa… What if it grows up and turns against us?" The wolf who had suggested killing it insisted, concern evident in his tone.
Wysa's eyes stayed fixed on the raven chick for another moment, her mind spinning with possibilities. She lifted her head, maintaining a firm tone but not ignoring the group's legitimate concerns.
"We'll take it back." she decided, with a tone that left no room for immediate questioning.
"We'll show it to the others, and then we'll decide together what to do."
The wolves exchanged glances, still uncertain, but Wysa's authority was unquestionable. She had always led with wisdom, and even if some had reservations, their trust in her was not easily shaken.
"If it turns out to be dangerous, we'll handle it together." she added, her voice softening a bit.
"But for now, it's just a chick, helpless and at the mercy of the storm. We won't be as cruel as those who hurt us."
The wolf who had initially suggested killing the chick frowned, but eventually nodded slowly. "I understand, Wysa." he said, although his tone still carried a hint of doubt.
"We'll trust your judgment."
Wysa gave a small nod, aware that the trust of her pack was something precious and not given lightly. "Let's go." she ordered, turning to resume their walk through the forest.
"The sooner we get back, the sooner we'll resolve this."
***
The marquesa finished her narrative, allowing a comfortable silence to fill the room. She looked at Liam, her eyes attentive and curious, reflecting the flickering flames.
"And now, that's the end of the story." the marquesa said with a smile, relaxing her shoulders as if she had just closed an invisible book.
"What did you think, my little one?"
Liam, who had been still and attentive throughout the story, sat up straighter, his face still glowing with excitement. "I liked it a lot! But…" He hesitated, furrowing his brow in a thoughtful expression.
"I wanted to know what will happen with the raven. What will the wolf do?"
The marquesa laughed softly, touching Liam's chin with a loving gesture. "Ah, that's a good question. But I think we'll have to leave that part for another night."
Liam made a slight disappointed face but soon his bright eyes regained their enthusiasm. "So you'll tell me next time, right?"
"Of course." the marquesa replied, her voice low and cozy, like the crackling of a fireplace on a cold night. She adjusted some old blankets around Liam, pulling them up to his chin.
"But now, it's time to sleep. You need to rest."
Liam snuggled in, still reluctant but recognizing the growing fatigue in his eyes. "Okay." he said, with a small yawn.
"But you promise you'll tell me what happens next?"
"I promise." the marquesa said, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"Good night, my dear."
"Good night…" murmured Liam, already sinking into his pillow, his eyes slowly closing.
Part 2
Liam slowly woke up, his body still heavy and his mind wrapped in a fog of dreams that was gradually dissipating. The first thing he noticed was the familiar sensation of soft fingers running through his hair, caressing it with a slow and comforting rhythm. For a moment, he remained still, savoring the touch that reminded him of past times, of a childhood where that gesture was his anchor of security.
He opened his eyes slowly, and the almost total darkness around him enveloped him like a shroud. The room was cold, the walls seeming to close in on him in a way that made his chest tighten. The only source of warmth was the presence of the marchioness, who continued to stroke his hair, her breath calm and rhythmic.
Liam shifted slightly, adjusting his position, and the marchioness's eyes met his, illuminated by a glow he could not fully decipher. There was something in those eyes that seemed... different. There was no longer the same soft, welcoming light as before. It was as if a subtle shadow had crept in, a trace of something darker and hidden.
"You're awake." she said, her voice low and melodic, almost whispered, as if she wanted to keep the darkness around them intact.
"Yes..." Liam replied, his voice a little hoarse from tiredness, but also carrying a hint of uncertainty he did not understand.
She smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes. "You did well over there, Liam. But you arrived at a bad time."
Her words hung in the air, laden with an implication he could not fully grasp. Something about the way she spoke, the choice of words, sent a shiver down his spine.
"I... I couldn't finish them, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interfere." he said, his voice sounding small in the dark space of the room. He tried to sit up, but the marchioness gently pressed her hand against his chest, keeping him lying down, his head still on her lap.
"Don't worry about that now." she murmured, continuing to stroke his hair.
"But you could make my day better. I know you can."
Liam felt a strange mix of relief and discomfort. He wanted to please her, to be useful, but something was wrong. It was the dark room, perhaps, or the way the marchioness looked at him, with an expectation he did not understand.
"How can I do that?" he asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.
The marchioness tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a smile that, at any other time, might have been comforting. But now, in the absolute darkness of the room, that smile seemed to have something sinister about it, something that awakened the shadows around.
"Wait a moment, my dear." she murmured, her voice soft as a whisper of silk.
She turned slightly to the side, the darkness swallowing her movements almost completely. "Come here." she called, her voice echoing through the space as if the walls were only inches away.
A barely perceptible sound of heavy footsteps emerged from the depths of the room, and a vague figure emerged from the shadows, merely a stain of even deeper darkness. The man approached, bowing slightly, his features completely hidden by the lack of light.
"Lady Wysa, what would you like?" the man's voice was deep and respectful, but carried a tone that, under different circumstances, might have been one of someone dealing with something they did not understand but deeply feared.
The marchioness gestured for him to come closer, and Liam felt the air around them change, as if something were displacing the very fabric of reality around them. He could hear the man's heavy breathing, a muffled and labored sound, but he could not see his face or any details of his figure. It was as if the darkness were alive, molding around them, hiding all the secrets the night could harbor.
"Closer." the marchioness ordered, her voice now tinged with a sweetness that Liam could not associate with anything other than danger.
The man hesitated for a brief moment but then complied, leaning in so close that Liam could feel the warmth of his body, an oppressive presence amidst the darkness surrounding them. Yet, Liam could still not see anything. It was as if his eyes had been deprived of sight, as if something were blocking his perception.
Then, without warning, a scream pierced the air. It was not a common sound but something visceral, a shrill and acute cry of pure desperation, the kind of sound that pierces the soul and makes the blood run cold. The man's voice, once firm and controlled, was now nothing more than a shattered echo, a plea for relief that would never come.
Yet, strangely, Liam did not feel fear. On the contrary, an inexplicable wave of relaxation washed over him. The scream, which should have unsettled his senses, should have accelerated his heartbeat and raised the hairs on his neck, had the opposite effect. His mind seemed numbed, disconnected from reality in a way that prevented him from reacting as anyone else might have.
The marchioness continued to stroke his hair, her fingers sliding gently, while the scream became more muffled, as if it were being suffocated by the shadows swallowing everything around them. Liam felt a strange torpor spread through his body, an almost anesthetic sensation that made everything seem distant, like a dream from which he could not awaken.
The scream abruptly ceased, replaced by a dense and suffocating silence. The man's breathing was no longer audible, and the room, already enveloped in darkness, now seemed completely devoid of any trace of humanity.
Suddenly, a damp, almost grotesque sound broke the silence. It was low but unmistakable, like the sound of flesh being torn and bones being crushed. The marchioness, who until then had been completely quiet, made a subtle movement, and Liam felt a slight shiver when something warm and viscous trickled down his face.
The faint light coming through the window illuminated a sinister gleam in the marchioness's mouth. Her face was smeared with blood, her lips stained red as she chewed something with a frightening voracity. The smell of iron and meat filled the air, seeping into the oppressive atmosphere of the room.
With a slow and deliberate gesture, the marchioness picked up another piece of the man with her mouth, an indistinguishable morsel of crushed meat and bones, and brought it to Liam's lips. The fresh blood still dripping from her teeth as she brought her mouth closer to his, her eyes fixed on his with an almost hypnotic intensity.
Liam, unable to resist, opened his mouth mechanically, allowing her to place the bloodied meat on his tongue. He closed his eyes for a moment as he swallowed, feeling the macabre texture dissolve in his throat, the metallic taste of blood spreading across his palate. It was repulsive, yet at the same time, there was something strangely satisfying about it, a primal need he did not know he had but that now manifested with full force.
His eyes slowly opened as he swallowed, diverting his gaze to the nearby window. Through the glass, the full moon shone brightly, its silver light illuminating the dark night. The moon seemed larger than usual, an imposing presence that seemed to watch over him, judging him in his horrific act. The moonlight reflected in Liam's eyes, creating an unsettling contrast with the darkness around, as if he were between two worlds, one he knew and another he was just beginning to unravel.
After swallowing what remained of the man, Liam felt his stomach twist in a mixture of nausea and satisfaction. He blinked slowly, trying to process what he had just done, but his mind was so numbed that emotions seemed distant, muffled by a fog of uncomfortable acceptance.
The marchioness leaned in closer, her eyes glowing with an almost supernatural intensity as she observed every reaction of Liam. "Go back out there, Liam." she whispered, her voice dripping with a false sweetness that did not match the horror of the moment. Her lips were still stained with blood, a terrifying contrast with the soft tone of her voice.
"Don't be a disappointment." she added, her face now so close that Liam could smell the metallic scent of blood on her breath, a presence almost tangible in the air.
"Do what needs to be done."