### Chapter 1: The Final Whisper
The air smelled of damp earth and old iron as I knelt beside my father. His frail hand gripped mine with surprising strength, his once-strong frame reduced to a shadow of itself. His eyes, clouded but still intense, locked onto mine.
"Listen carefully, Dominic," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire and the distant howl of the wind. "You're… more than you know."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words twisting my stomach into knots. This wasn't how I imagined our final moments. No last comforting words or wisdom to carry me through life—just cryptic riddles.
"What do you mean?" I asked, leaning closer.
"You've got the gift," he whispered. "The bloodline… your mother's side. You can… control them."
"Control what?" My voice cracked, more from fear than sadness.
His gaze drifted to the shadows dancing on the walls of our small cabin. His breathing grew shallower, and I thought I'd lose him before he explained. But then he spoke, each word landing like a thunderclap in my chest.
"The monsters, Dominic. The ones that hunt us, haunt us. They obey you."
I froze. Monsters. Everyone in our village knew about them—the beasts that prowled the forests and mountains, preying on anyone foolish enough to stray too far from safety. My father's words made no sense. No one controlled monsters. You ran from them. You hid. Or you died.
"You're delusional," I said, shaking my head, though a part of me—a small, terrible part—hoped he was telling the truth.
"You'll see," he wheezed. "They'll come for you… but not to harm you. To serve you. Use it… wisely."
His grip on my hand slackened, and his chest rose one last time before falling still. Silence filled the room, save for the wind rattling the shutters.
I sat there, stunned, until a sound cut through the night. A low, guttural growl.
Slowly, I turned toward the door. The growl grew louder, accompanied by heavy footfalls that shook the floorboards. My heart hammered as I reached for the hunting knife on my belt.
The door creaked open, and there it stood—a creature straight out of a nightmare. It was wolf-like but twice the size, with eyes that glowed like molten gold and claws sharp enough to carve through stone.
I should've been terrified. I should've bolted for the back window. But instead, I felt something stir deep within me—a strange, unexplainable connection to the beast.
It didn't attack. It didn't snarl or lunge. Instead, it bowed its massive head, lowering itself to the ground in submission.
I dropped the knife, my fingers trembling. "What… what are you doing?"
The creature's eyes met mine, and in that instant, I knew my father hadn't been delusional. The connection I felt wasn't fear or pity—it was power. Pure, unrelenting power.
The beast was waiting for my command.
And in that moment, everything changed.