Days passed since Kel's transformation, and life in Greywood resumed its ordinary rhythm, but for Kel, nothing felt normal anymore. By day, he worked at the forge, the clang of hammer on iron a familiar comfort, but his mind was elsewhere—caught between fear of the next full moon and the mysteries Elara hinted at but had yet to fully reveal.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold, Kel made his way to Elara's cottage. It was nestled on the outskirts of the village, where the forest began, and the shadows seemed to move with a life of their own. He knocked softly on the wooden door, and it opened almost immediately, as if she had been expecting him.
"Come in," Elara said, stepping aside to let him pass. Her home was modest, filled with dried herbs hanging from the rafters and shelves lined with old, leather-bound books. The air was thick with the scent of sage and lavender, and the faint glow of candlelight cast long shadows on the walls.
Kel followed her to a small table, where a fire crackled in the hearth. Elara motioned for him to sit, then took a seat across from him. Between them lay an ancient tome, its cover worn and faded, the pages yellowed with age.
"I've been researching your family's history," Elara began, her voice low. "There's something you need to know—something your father never told you."
Kel felt a cold knot of dread form in his stomach. "What is it?"
Elara opened the tome, her fingers tracing the faded ink on the pages. "Your family's curse dates back centuries, to a time when the world was ruled by ancient gods and powerful sorcery. The first of your line to bear the curse was a warrior named Alaric, a man of great strength and courage. He was betrayed by those he trusted most, cursed by a rival chieftain who sought to destroy him."
Kel leaned in, captivated by her words. "What happened to him?"
"Elara turned the page, revealing an illustration of a man half-transformed into a wolf, standing beneath a full moon. "Alaric survived, but the curse changed him. He became a beast under the moon's light, driven by bloodlust and rage. But he wasn't entirely lost—there was still a part of him that clung to his humanity. It's said that he sought out a powerful sorceress, a woman who knew the ways of the old magic. She couldn't lift the curse, but she gave him a way to control it, to channel the beast's power without losing himself completely."
Kel's heart raced. "Did it work? Did he break the curse?"
Elara shook her head. "No. The curse could only be broken by the blood of the one who cast it, and that chieftain died before Alaric could exact his revenge. But the knowledge of how to control the curse was passed down through the generations, from father to son, until it reached your father."
Kel's mind reeled with the weight of this revelation. "But my father never told me any of this. Why?"
Elara's expression softened. "Perhaps he thought he could spare you from the curse, that it would skip your generation. Or maybe he wanted to protect you from the truth. Whatever his reasons, the knowledge was lost when he died."
A heavy silence settled between them. Kel stared at the flickering flames in the hearth, the burden of his lineage pressing down on him like a stone. "So, what now? How do I control it?"
Elara closed the tome and looked at him with a determined gaze. "There is a way—a ritual, but it's dangerous and requires ingredients that are rare and difficult to obtain. And even then, it might only give you temporary control, not a permanent cure."
Kel's jaw tightened with resolve. "I'll do whatever it takes. I can't live like this—constantly fearing the next full moon, the next time the beast will take over."
Elara nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "We'll start tomorrow. But you need to be prepared, Kel. This path will test you in ways you can't imagine, and there will be those who will try to stop us."
Kel met her gaze, the fear still there, but now tempered with determination. "I'm ready."
As the night deepened, the two of them sat in the flickering light, making plans for the perilous journey ahead. But in the quiet moments between words, there was something else—a connection, unspoken yet undeniable, growing stronger with each passing day.