Alger's heart pounded violently, and the wild power within him seemed ready to consume him whole. With every deep breath, he felt an uncontrollable change taking over. His skin was stretching and thickening, growing rougher with each passing second. The bones in his fingertips grew harder, and his nails lengthened, becoming sharp like claws. It was as though the power of a beast was awakening inside him, forcing him to face a truth he could not comprehend.
He clutched his head and moaned softly, feeling the transformation rip through every muscle. The pain was beyond description, as if his entire body was morphing into something else, something no longer familiar. He was no longer Alger Clark, but something wild, something primal. He couldn't fathom what would happen to him if this transformation continued.
A sharp, intense headache gripped him, and Alger's knees buckled beneath him. He collapsed onto the ground, his hands bracing against the floor as he gasped for breath, his breathing now resembling the growls of a wolf—deep and urgent. The pain was almost unbearable, threatening to make him lose consciousness, yet deep inside, there was an ancient impulse—an instinct to chase, to hunt. It was as if an invisible wolf within him was howling, desperate for release.
"I can't..." he whispered hoarsely, his voice rough, as though even his words were being consumed by the wildness within him. He lifted his hand and stared at the back of it. Already, hair was growing across his skin, and his nails had turned into sharp, hardened claws. It felt as though he had become one with the forest, a creature of the wild. He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the primal urges stirring inside, but the strength of that power was overwhelming, like a flood he couldn't hold back.
Just as he felt himself on the brink of losing control, Alger suddenly stood, forcing himself to use his rational mind to suppress the animalistic urge. He knew that if he let go now, he would never be able to return. He fought to stay conscious, realizing that this wasn't just a physical transformation—it was the total destruction of his self, his identity. He focused on breathing deeply, trying to regain his calm.
Yet, that hunger, that desire from deep within, wrapped around him like chains. It was as if the moonlight had illuminated some hidden corner of his soul, and the wolf's nature surged forth, stronger than ever, threatening to tear away all of his reason.
Uncontrollably, Alger's mouth opened. His teeth began to sharpen, and as he looked down, he saw his toes elongating, twisting, and curling, as if his bones were rearranging. At that moment, Alger knew that there was no denying the change anymore.
"I'm becoming... a wolf," he murmured in terror and confusion. His hands clenched the bed sheets tightly, his claws sinking into the fabric as his bones shifted with electric speed and agonizing intensity.
Suddenly, a wolf's howl pierced the night air outside, the sound like a summons, cutting deep into Alger's soul. It felt like the call to an unknown path, an inescapable fate. Alger's eyes widened, and his body moved on its own toward the window. The world before him grew blurry, but his senses became incredibly sharp—his hearing, his sense of smell, his vision—all heightened to an unnatural degree. The moonlight bathed him, and he could feel the primal force filling him, saturating every inch of his being.
He thought of Mary, remembering her gentle smile and the words she had said. "Don't worry too much, Alger. Living here, you'll find peace." She had told him that the village would bring him the tranquility he needed. But tonight, everything had shattered that peace.
Alger tried to pull himself back to reality, to anchor his thoughts. His rational mind screamed that if he gave in to this wild power, he would lose himself completely, becoming the very monster he had only ever heard of in stories. And behind this change, there seemed to be some nameless curse, an ancient force that lay hidden in the land, devouring the souls of all who walked into it on the full moon.
He closed his eyes again, desperately trying to suppress the urges rising inside. But at that moment, a fierce dizziness struck him. His head felt like it might explode, and the howling of wolves grew closer, but it was no longer just coming from outside. It felt as though the howl was emanating from deep within his own soul. The wolf's call, the yearning for the wild, filled his mind, and everything else seemed to blur into the background.
"I can't..." Alger whispered again. He wanted to escape, to flee from it all, but he knew that the more he tried to control it, the more this force would consume him. Every second, every breath, he fought against the overwhelming power, but it only grew stronger, digging deeper into his mind, as if it had already become part of him.
And then, just as he felt himself slipping away, Alger suddenly snapped his eyes open. He looked down at his hands—hands that once belonged to a doctor—now grotesquely large, covered in fur, with claws sharp as daggers. His heart raced, the world spinning around him. It was as if he were becoming something entirely new, something beyond human comprehension.
"Is this my fate?" Alger asked silently, his voice deep and weak. He realized he could no longer run from this change. It wasn't just physical—it was a mental transformation, a force he couldn't fight. It was as if an inescapable destiny had taken hold of him.
Just then, a voice rang out, seemingly from nowhere, but so clear it was as though it had come from inside his very soul. "You are the chosen one."
Alger jerked his head up, eyes wide with fear and confusion. His heart nearly stopped. Every hair on his body stood on end. He turned around, and the air around him seemed to freeze. A calling, something deep within his soul, was trying to pull him into the unknown darkness.