Chapter 1

Beckton Isle stood timeless, its unnatural beauty whispering with the mystery of a past long forgotten. The isle now buckled under the storm's fury—roaring winds tore through the trees, waves battered the cliffs, and thunder shook the skies with deafening booms.

Nestled in the isle's remote reaches lay a quiet village, its stone cottages wethering the relentless downpour. Though the rain drummed harshly on the rooftops, the sturdy homes held firm to the storm's rage.

Inside one of the cottages, Raphael Risden sat at a worn table. His sharp purple eyes scanned outside through the window. His pristine blonde hair gleamed faintly in the light of the dimmed lantern, a stark contrast to his sun-bronzed skin, covered with scars from harsh training.

Raphael's chest tightened as that same sensation washed over him—a pull, soft yet insistent, it wanted him to find it. It unsettled him. Whatever it was, it yearned for him. It called to him warm and inviting, yet heavy with unspoken danger.

In his thoughts, the door flew open. It slammed against the wall with a crack, startling Raphael and making him reach for his sword. Lucia Rapacz burst into the room, her breath ragged, rainwater dripping from her fiery hair onto the floor. Branches were tangled in her curls and swayed as she shook her head, her reddish eyes wide with panic.

"Lucia, what on earth happened? You look like you ran miles through the storm."

"Raph! My pup, Shuki—he's gone!"

"Gone? In a storm? How far could he have gotten?"

Lucia was crying horribly, and Raphael almost felt bad for his strict questioning, but this was the only way he could figure out what to do about the lost pup. His arms wrapped around her, squeezing her like silent reassurance.

"This is the problem, Lucia. Shuki isn't a werewolf—he's a domesticated dog. He still needs you to look after him."

Lucia's voice cracked as she spoke, breaking Raphael's heart even further. Her hands trembled as they clung to the fabric on his back. "He never wanders far, Raph. Never. But tonight…" She trailed off, a sob catching in her throat. "Something is wrong. Very wrong. I can feel it."

As Shuki's words sank in, Raphael couldn't ignore that feeling. It wasn't just the storm or Shuki's absence; it was that pull again, stronger now.

"Alright. I understand," Raphael said, his tone steady but firm. "Let's get you into dry clothes, and I'll grab Luca and Atalia."

Lucia's eyes widened slightly. "What are you planning to do?"

"Look for him," Raphael replied, already moving toward the door. "But I can't do it alone—we'll need help."

"Right, of course." Lucia exhaled shakily, rubbing her damp arms. "I'm sorry. I'm just—Shuki's all I have, and I—"

"It's fine," Raphael interrupted gently, his voice softening. "Let's focus. We'll get you warmed up."

Raphael stepped into the storm, the cold rain pelting his skin and clothes as the wind howled through the narrow alleyways. He moved quickly, his boots splashing through the puddles as he headed toward the house at the end of the path. Each second felt heavier than the last, his urgency and worry pressing his chest like a weight.

His fist hit against the door three times. The door creaked open, and Luca's brows shot up in surprise. "Raph—what's going on?" He asked. His olive-green scanning Raphael's rain-soaked figure.

Luca Arata, the village wizard, stood in the doorway, his dark brown skin illuminated by the faint glow of an enchanted lamp behind him. His short blue hair glistened with the rain that dripped from the roof, a small braid tucked neatly to the side of his face. He usually had a calm look, but Raphael's agency threw him off balance.

"Shuki's gone. I need your help. Now."

A loud, incredulous voice echoed from behind Luca before he could respond.

"Shuki is what?!"

Atalia Doucet stormed into view, a cigarette dangling from her lips, its smoke curling against the damp air. Her long white braids swayed with each step, and her brown eyes narrowed with concern. Playful as she often was, nothing about her tone hinted at humor.

"Well, well," Atalia drawled, her smirk widening as she leaned against the table. "You're looking downright sinful, dripping like that, Raph."

"It's called rain," Raphael shot back, rolling his eyes. "And no, this isn't the time for your nonsense."

Luca snorted quietly as he packed his satchel. He glanced at Raphael—his broad shoulders damp from the storm—and then quickly turned away. His hands worked the buckles a bit too tightly. "Strength isn't everything," he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the sound of the rain outside.

"What's that, Luca?" Atalia asked, raising an eyebrow as she exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Nothing," Luca replied quickly, slinging the satchel over his shoulder. "Let's just go before the storm gets worse."

The group hurried back to Raphael's home, boots splashing through the puddles as the rain began letting up. Inside, Lucia was already on her way out, startled to see them.

She looked more composed, her hair was still slightly damp in her ponytail, and her red eyes betrayed the hours she must have spent crying. She steadied her voice as she spoke, "You're back."

Atalia stepped forward without hesitation, pulling Lucia into a firm hug. "Hey, chin up," she said softly, brushing a stray tear from Lucia's cheek with her thumb. "We'll bring him back. Promise."

Lucia nodded against her shoulder, her voice cracking slightly. "Thank you, Atalia."

Raphael stepped into the room, his presence studying. "Alright," he said, glancing at each of them in turn. "We need to focus. Where was Shuki last seen?"

Luca adjusted the strap on his satchel and nodded. "I can use a scent pell, but with this rain…" He hesitated, his brow furrowing. "It'll be tricky. If Shuki's scent isn't strong, the trail could disappear entirely."

"Then we'll just have to hope it's strong enough," Raphael replied, determination clear in his voice. "Let's not waste any more time."

They arrived at Lucia's cottage, and Luca crouched near the ground, murmuring a spell under his breath. A faint, glowing trail shimmered into view, stretching deeper into the forest. Without a word, they followed, the path winding further into the dense woods.

The deeper they ventured, the darker it grew. Towering trees loomed overhead, their gnarled branches twisting like claws against the faint moonlight. The air turned frigid, and each breath clouded in front of them. The forest was unnervingly quiet, save for the crunch of leaves underfoot. Unease settled over the group like a heavy fog, their steps slowing as fear coiled in their stomachs.

"There's no way Shuki went this far," Raphael muttered, glancing over his shoulder. Luca didn't respond, his face tense with concentration as he maintained the spell.

Then, suddenly, Lucia's sharp gasp broke the silence. "Shuki!" she cried, her voice trembling. Her wide eyes locked onto a shadowy figure up ahead, faintly illuminated by the moonlight.

"Lucia, wait!" Raphael shouted as she bolted forward. But it was too late. She was already running, her boots slipping on the damp forest floor.

"Don't run from me, Shuki!" she yelled, her voice cracking as she pushed further into the dark.

Raphael's chest tightened as he watched her vanish into the trees. The forest felt alive, the oppressive stillness replaced by a faint, unnatural rustling. He glanced at Atalia, who was already drawing her dagger, her face pale and taut with tension. Something wasn't right.

The small dog darted ahead, its tail wagging furiously as if it found its destination. The group hesitated, their steps faltering as the forest opened up to reveal something that shouldn't exist this far out.

Through the thinning trees, a silhouette loomed—a manor, standing eerily still against the stormy backdrop. The building wasn't crumbling, but it wasn't pristine either. Its walls were streaked with moss and grime. The iron gate leaned awkwardly on its rusted hinges.

"What is this place?" Lucia asked, her voice trembling as she clutched her coat tighter around her.

"A manor," Raphael replied, stepping forward cautiously. His pulse quickened as he studied the structure.

The air seemed heavier as they approached, the rain falling harder now, drumming against the stone walls. The dog stopped at the gate, wagging its tail as if beckoning them forward. None of them moved.

"We can't leave him in there!" Lucia's voice wavered, her hands trembling as she reached for Raphael. "Please…Shuki wouldn't bring us here without reason."

Raphael hesitated, his eyes fixed on the manor. The air around it felt thick, almost suffocating, as if the building itself didn't want them to enter. But Lucia's desperate expression gnawed at his resolve. She needed him, and he couldn't turn her away.

This is a terrible idea," Luca muttered, glancing warily at the towering structure. "We have no idea what we're walking into."

"And that's why we don't split up," Atalia said, adjusting her coat. Her usual smirk was gone, replaced by grim determination. "We've come this far. Let's finish this."

Raphael's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, the familiar weight steadying his nerves. He nodded to the group, his voice calm but firm. "Stay close. We're going in."

The room was cold, the damp chill of the storm somehow more pronounced inside. The air smelled faintly of wax and decay, the wooden floor creaking beneath their hesitant steps. Flames erupted one by one as if an invisible hand moved through the room. Shadows danced wildly on the cracked walls, casting long, warped shapes that seemed alive.

The door groaned as it opened, revealing a figure in a maid's uniform. She froze mid-step, her pale face stark against the dim light, Her eyes widened, her lips parted as if to speak.—but she spun and disappeared into the darkness before any of them could react.

"Well," Raphael said, his voice deliberately calm, "at least we know where we're going next."

"Did you see her face?" Lucia asked, clutching her arms. "She looked… terrified. Is she alone here?"

"Doubtful," Luca muttered, glancing toward the now-empty doorway. "But why would she run like that?"

"Raphael stepped forward, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. "Only one way to find out."