Deborah's POV
Soft moonlight spilled over the square, and the surrounding flames roared fiercely, casting long shadows of the two of us against the ground.
Matthew lifted his head, fixing his gaze intently on the full moon hanging high in the night sky, his eyes brimming with some indescribable power.
I could feel it—the tremor running through his body, as if some unstoppable force was slowly awakening inside him.
His muscles tightened, bones seemed to crack under the strain, and every nerve in his body was taut, vibrating with an energy that pulsed and grew stronger with each passing second.
Suddenly, his body convulsed violently, and he dropped to his knees, a pained howl escaping from his lips.
"Matthew?" I stepped forward instinctively, then hesitated, my heart racing with worry.
I watched helplessly as his body began to spasm uncontrollably, his muscles writhing under his skin like coiled serpents. He threw his head back, and his eyes flashed with a wild, bestial light.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his fingers clawed at the ground, digging deep into the dirt until his knuckles turned white.
He was struggling against something immense and powerful—something that seemed ready to tear him apart from the inside.
His throat emitted low, guttural groans of agony, every sound drenched in raw, unfiltered pain.
"Agh…" Matthew clenched his teeth, his whole body shuddering as he struggled to rise, only to be slammed back down by a wave of unbearable suffering, forcing him to his knees again and again.
"Matthew! Hang on!" I called out, desperation tinging my voice, but there was nothing I could do.
He was curled up, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso as if trying to keep himself from splitting in two.
His back arched violently, his breath coming in ragged, harsh gasps, every intake a reminder of the torment that wracked his entire being.
Matthew's veins stood out sharply against his skin, his face contorted in agony.
His nails raked against the earth, leaving deep grooves in the ground beneath him. I could even hear the rasping growl echoing from the depths of his throat—a sound that was both animalistic and anguished, like the wail of a wounded beast.
But there were no signs of transformation.
The books describe the werewolf's shift as a harmonious meld of human and beast—a reshaping of bones, a rebirth of sinew and fur.
But now, all I saw was a man being torn apart, piece by piece, as if this power was destroying him rather than strengthening him.
"Matthew, what's happening? Why—why haven't you shifted yet?" I whispered, my eyes wide with fear and confusion.
But he couldn't answer me—he was too consumed by the pain, his body contorted into a twisted, agonized form as if some unseen force was trying to shatter him from within.
He released a low, desperate howl, his claws digging deeper into the ground, his limbs quaking violently.
The flames around the square burned brighter, their warm light dancing over his tormented face. I gritted my teeth, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would break.
The fire had warded off the creatures that lurked in the darkness—no mutant bats, no giant rats.
But Matthew's condition was worsening… and the dread in my chest was growing stronger.
I crouched beside him, wanting to reach out, but his body trembled so violently that I was afraid to touch him.
"Matthew, tell me—what's wrong?" My voice shook, the helplessness almost choking me.
But he could only groan in pain, the sound growing fainter and fainter.
His body seemed branded by the moonlight itself, trembling fiercely. His skin flushed an alarming red, and his eyes lost focus until, at last, he collapsed, utterly drained.
"Matthew! Matthew!" I knelt beside him, shaking his shoulders gently.
He lay there, twitching weakly, his sweat and tears mingling as they rolled down his face, his expression one of utter confusion and pain.
"Werewolf transformations… shouldn't be like this…" I murmured, terror swelling in my chest like a storm.
Was this some kind of curse?
Suddenly, a low, droning hum filled the air.
I jerked my head up, my heart hammering in my chest—
A swarm of giant moths poured forth from the darkness.
Their bodies were almost the size of a human, their eyes glowing a ghastly red, and their wings were covered in dull, gray scales.
They gathered in thick clouds, swirling through the night sky with a deep, resonating buzz that sent chills down my spine.
I instinctively stepped in front of Matthew, shielding him.
"Moths… Why are there so many of them?" I whispered, breath hitching as I watched the mass of dark shapes closing in from every direction.
"Thousands upon thousands of moths surged towards the flames.
Their wings caught fire, yet they continued to flap frantically, unafraid, mindlessly throwing themselves into the blaze.
The acrid stench of burnt wings filled the air—they were completely crazed, desperate to snuff out the light.
"No—" I raised my hand, trying to summon fire once more.
But my body was reaching its limit.
The repeated use of magic had drained me of all my strength; even standing was a struggle.
Matthew pushed himself upright, positioning himself between me and the oncoming swarm, his arms trembling, his eyes fierce despite the pain.
"I'll hold them off. You—"
But before he could finish, a giant moth slammed into his face.
I screamed, trying to swat it away, but then another one barreled into me, knocking me off my feet.
The moths swarmed around us in a frenzy, their red eyes glowing like malevolent flames, wings beating furiously as clouds of powdery scales filled the air, sharp as tiny blades slicing through the darkness.
"Aah—!"
I stumbled back, my chest tightening with fear.
What were these things? Where had they come from?
The sight was overwhelming, crushing my spirit.
"Matthew, we… can't stay here!"
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself upright, clutching Matthew's arm desperately.
The square was engulfed in darkness, the swarm of moths thickening like a storm cloud.
The firelight flickered weakly under their assault, swallowed by the choking mass of wings.
Panic clawed at my throat.
The moths pressed closer, their eyes gleaming with a cold, unrelenting hunger.
What should I do?
I didn't have a choice.
"Ventus Swift!"
The spell ripped from my throat in a hoarse cry, and the world blurred around us.
The situation was spiraling out of control. Thousands of giant moths swarmed toward the flames, their scales and wings catching fire, releasing a choking, acrid stench into the air.
Yet more of them kept surging forward, as if an endless tide bent on smothering us.
Matthew's transformation still hadn't taken hold, and his body lay twitching weakly on the ground.
Seeing him in such a fragile state tore at my heart.
"No… We can't keep this up…" I bit down on my lip, watching helplessly as his strength drained away, moment by moment.
My magic was waning too—there was no way I could fend off this relentless assault of moths any longer.
"Matthew, we have to get out of here!"
Grasping his hand, I summoned every last bit of energy I had left and shouted the spell: "Ventus Swift!"
A powerful gust of wind wrapped around us, and in an instant, we vanished from the square.
The next moment, we were back in the cramped, dilapidated basement.
My heart pounded frantically as I steadied myself against the crumbling wall.
The basement was still roofless and doorless, but without any light or fire to lure them, perhaps the moths wouldn't notice us for now.
Matthew slumped weakly against the wall, his forehead glistening with cold sweat.
His face was deathly pale, and his eyes, barely open, were glazed with exhaustion.
Even breathing seemed to be an arduous task for him.