Elizabeth had heard whispers of Gama's troubles long before the official letter reached her. Villages burned, families torn apart, and the cursed howls of werewolves filling the night air. It was the kind of devastation she had spent her life fighting, yet the stories of Gama struck a different chord.
When the letter from King Alden arrived, she read it carefully, her sharp eyes scanning the desperate plea. The words described a kingdom on the brink of collapse, gripped by a werewolf epidemic that no one could control. This wasn't a small outbreak in some forgotten town, this was a full-blown crisis.
Elizabeth wasn't easily shaken, but as she reread the letter, her heart tightened. She had faced many outbreaks in her career as a werewolf slayer, but the sheer scale of Gama's situation was unlike anything she had ever encountered. Entire villages had fallen. Refugees poured into the cities, only to spread the curse further.
Elizabeth stood in her dimly lit cabin, a map of the region spread out before her. The moonlight spilling through the window illuminated her hardened features as she traced a route to Gama with her finger.
"Seven days," she muttered, the words almost a promise to herself. Gama's king needed her, and time was running out. She didn't need to deliberate. The letter's plea, paired with the tales of Gama's suffering, was enough to set her on this path.
Elizabeth had no family, no home to return to. Her life had been consumed by her mission: to rid the world of werewolves, the cursed creatures who destroyed lives and left entire kingdoms in ruin. She had become a weapon sharp, unyielding, and deadly and it was time to wield that weapon once again.
Elizabeth's movements were methodical as she prepared for the journey. She pulled out her well-worn leather armor, reinforced with silver plates, and slid it over her muscular frame. Her weapons, her trusted companions, were laid out on a wooden table.
Her silver-forged sword gleamed even in the dim light, its edge razor-sharp from countless hours of honing. She ran her fingers along the quiver of silver-tipped arrows, each one crafted with precision. Her crossbow, sturdy and reliable, was her answer to the beasts that would likely ambush her along the way.
Packing the last of her supplies, Elizabeth strapped a dagger to her thigh and slung the sword across her back. Every piece of equipment had its purpose, every ounce of weight calculated for survival. The road to Gama would be dangerous, but Elizabeth was no stranger to treacherous paths.
As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, Elizabeth mounted her horse, a sturdy mare named Ash who had carried her through countless hunts. She gave a final glance at the small cabin that had been her temporary refuge. It was just another stop in a lifetime of wandering, a place she would not return to.
The journey to Gama was long and fraught with peril. The borderlands were eerily quiet, the once-thriving villages now empty husks. Burnt homes stood as grim monuments to the destruction wrought by the werewolves. Elizabeth passed fields where crops had withered, abandoned by farmers who had either fled or been turned.
At night, the howls began. They were distant at first, faint echoes carried on the wind. But as she drew closer to Gama, the cries grew louder, more chilling. They weren't just the cries of wolves; they were the sounds of something far worse something human and yet not.
Elizabeth kept her focus on the road ahead, but the sights and sounds around her stirred old memories. She thought of the first time she had faced a werewolf, years ago when she was young and inexperienced. She had been reckless back then, driven more by rage than skill, and nearly paid with her life.
That fight had left her with scars both physical and emotional but it had also solidified her purpose. She had vowed never to let another family suffer as hers had. That resolve had carried her through countless battles, each one forging her into the slayer she was today.
After seven grueling days, Elizabeth reached the outskirts of Gama. The signs of devastation were unmistakable. Smoke rose from distant villages, and the air carried the metallic scent of blood. She passed a group of refugees haggard, wounded, and terrified.
"Turn back," one man called out to her, his voice trembling. "The beasts… they're everywhere. No one can stop them."
Elizabeth didn't reply. She simply tightened her grip on Ash's reins and pressed forward. She wasn't here to run from the fight. She was here to end it.
As Elizabeth approached the capital, the scale of the crisis became clear. The city walls, once strong and proud, bore the marks of claws. Guards stood at the gates, their faces pale and haunted. The streets inside were eerily quiet, the usual bustle replaced by the whispers of fear.
When she arrived at the palace, King Alden greeted her personally. He was a man weighed down by desperation, his once-regal demeanor now marked by exhaustion.
"Elizabeth," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You are our last hope."
She studied him for a moment, noting the lines of worry etched into his face. "Tell me everything," she replied, her tone steady and resolute.
Over the next few hours, Alden and his advisors recounted the horrors that had unfolded. Villages wiped out in a single night. Entire families turning into monsters. The infection spreading faster than anyone could track.
"We've tried everything," Alden admitted. "Our weapons, our walls they're useless against these creatures. If we can't stop this…" His voice faltered. "There won't be a Gama left to save."
Elizabeth nodded, her expression unreadable. "Then it's a good thing I'm here."
As night fell over the capital, Elizabeth prepared for what lay ahead. The fight would be brutal, the odds overwhelming. But she had faced impossible battles before, and she had survived them all.
Gama's fate now rested on her shoulders, a weight she carried with quiet determination. She wasn't here for glory or riches. She was here because it was the right thing to do.
Standing under the pale light of the moon, Elizabeth drew her sword, its silver edge glinting. The werewolves would come, as they always did. And when they did, they would find her waiting.
For Gama, for its people, and for her own unshakable resolve, Elizabeth would not falter.