Half a year had passed in peace before the temple's tranquil days were suddenly shattered by whispers of terror. Rumors of werewolf sightings began spreading through the region like wildfire, reaching the temple just as the winter snows began to thaw. The once serene and sacred grounds now buzzed with tension, for werewolves were known to be mortal enemies of Selûne's followers. The very thought of these cursed creatures stirred fear and anger in the hearts of the faithful.
The temple elders convened swiftly, their faces set in grim determination. These werewolves posed a direct threat to the temple's safety, and something had to be done. After much deliberation, they decided that the strongest warriors in their order must confront the werewolves before their numbers grew any larger. Syllel, being one of the most skilled paladins and most trusted by the elders, was chosen to lead the charge.
The decision was made quickly, leaving little time for farewells. Syllel, now once again dressed in her armor, stood before Urdn'Varn, her expression both stern and sorrowful. The young kobold, now nearly grown, had sensed the unease in the air long before she told him of her mission. His eyes, wide and shimmering with concern, looked up at her as he clutched her hand, his wings tucked close to his body.
"I must go, my son," Syllel said softly, brushing a hand over his scaled cheek. "But I promise you this: I will return. Until then, you must stay here and protect the temple. Selûne's light will guide me, and I will be back before you know it."
Urdn'Varn's throat tightened as he watched Syllel gather her party. Soon ten of the temple's finest warriors, had finished preparing to face the threat lurking in the shadows. Urdn'Varn's heart ached as Syllel led her comrades out of the temple gates, her shining armor gleaming one last time in the sun before disappearing beyond the horizon. Desperate to remain by her side, Urdn'Varn took to the skies, flying after her for as long as his wings would carry him. But as the view of the temple fell behind them, saw one of the elders motion for him to turn back, for Syllel's distance from the temple grounds was far great for him to travel alone.
Slowly, Days passed into weeks. But no word came from Syllel or her party. The temple carried on its usual routines, and the elders reassured the people that all was well, but Urdn'Varn's heart was heavy with worry. Though he continued his duties around the temple, helping the clerics tend to the grounds and teaching the younger acolytes, though his thoughts remained with Syllel. Each night, he flew to the highest point in the temple's tower, scanning the distant forest for any sign of glinting armor as he prayed for her return.
Then, one fateful evening, just as dusk began to settle over the land, a figure appeared at the temple gates. A hush fell over the courtyard as Syllel, battered and bloodied, stumbled into view, accompanied by a single other survivor. Out of the churches ten warriors, only these two had returned, and they were barely standing. Syllel's once gleaming armor was now torn and stained with the blood of battle, her movements sluggish and pained.
Without hesitation, Urdn'Varn rushed to her side, tears streaming down his scaled face. His heart pounded with a mix of relief and fear as he reached out, channeling every ounce of healing power he could muster into her wounded body. His hands glowed with a soft silver light as he mended her deep gashes, his voice trembling as he whispered desperate prayers to Selûne. The other clerics gathered quickly, tending to the paladin who had returned with Syllel, but despite their best efforts, his injuries were too grave, and by morning, he had succumbed to his wounds.
Exhausted from the intense magic he had used, Urdn'Varn collapsed beside Syllel, his energy utterly spent. Syllel, though weakened, had survived. She awoke later that day in her cabin, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls as she lay beneath warm blankets. Urdn'Varn, still recovering from his mana exhaustion, rested nearby, his small form curled up protectively at the foot of her bed.
As the evening stretched on and the temple grew quiet, Syllel beckoned Urdn'Varn to her side. He sat beside her, his eyes filled with concern, sensing that something was deeply wrong. She took his hand in hers, her voice low and unsteady as she confessed what had been plaguing her mind since her return.
"I fear I've brought something dark back with me," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and shame. "During the battle, the werewolves fought like demons, but we managed to kill them. Yet something else was there, a force greater than them. We discovered they were under the thrall of a vampire, one older and stronger than I could have imagined. We destroyed it, but not before..."
Her voice faltered, and Urdn'Varn gripped her hand tighter, his eyes urging her to continue. Syllel's gaze drifted toward the window, where the taste of the sunlight hung low in the sky, its light casting a faint glow across the room.
"I.. I've been having strange dreams," she confessed, her voice barely audible. "Dreams of the hunt. Of running through the night, my body changing and my senses sharpening. Every night since the battle, I've felt these odd sensations... as though something inside me is shifting."
Urdn'Varn's heart sank as the truth dawned on him. He had heard stories like this before, the whispers of the curse of lycanthropy. For the bite of a werewolf could turn even the strongest humanoids into one of them, forever cursed to hunt under the light of the full moon. He stared at Syllel, his breath catching in his throat.
"I fear I've been cursed," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "If I have lycanthropy, the Elders of the church will not hesitate to hunt me down. Most of Selûnite's followers do not tolerate werewolves, no matter who they once were."
Tears welled in Urdn'Varn's eyes as he listened to his mother's words. She had raised him with love and protected him from the harshness of the world. Now, it was his turn to protect her.
"NO, I'll find a way," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "There must be something, or *someone* who can lift the curse. I won't let them harm you, I swear Mother."
Syllel pulled him close, her hand resting on his head as she closed her eyes, trying to push away the fear that gnawed at her soul. "I pray to Selûne for guidance, my son," she whispered. "But if the moon goddess wills that I must bear this curse, I will accept it. For now, we must keep this secret."
And so, Syllel and Urdn'Varn made a pact to hide the truth of her curse from the others, even as they began to search for a cure. But with each passing day, the pull of the moon grew stronger, and Syllel knew it was only a matter of time before the curse revealed itself.