The air in the Blackmoon Forest hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves. Adrian stumbled behind Vitalis, his clawed feet sinking into the marshy ground with every step, sending up splashes of rancid mud. The moon, though paling as dawn approached, still cast a faint silver glow through the tangled branches above, illuminating the scarred warrior ahead of him. Vitalis moved with a predator's grace, his wolfskin cloak swaying like a living thing, the bone spear in his hand tapping the ground rhythmically—a steady, ominous beat.Adrian's body ached, every muscle screaming from the unnatural transformation. His hunter's tunic was little more than shredded rags now, clinging to his shoulders and chest where coarse black fur had sprouted. His hands—claws—trembled as he flexed them, the sharp nails glinting faintly in the dying moonlight. He could still taste blood on his tongue, his own blood, from where his lengthening teeth had pierced his lips during the change. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a reminder of the beast he'd become."What am I?" he rasped, his voice a guttural growl that scraped against his throat. He stopped walking, leaning against a gnarled oak, its bark rough against his furred palm. "You keep calling me 'newborn.' What does that mean?"Vitalis halted, turning slowly to face him. The golden eyes gleamed in the dimness, unblinking, like twin flames in the shadows. "It means you're one of us now," he said, his tone flat but edged with something ancient—weariness, perhaps, or resentment. "The moon's fire has claimed you. There's no undoing it."Adrian shook his head, his claws digging deeper into the tree. "I don't want this. I don't want to be a monster." His voice cracked, a flicker of the man he'd been breaking through the beast's snarl. "I have a brother—Luke. I need to get back to him."Vitalis stepped closer, the spear's tip hovering near Adrian's chest. "Go back now, and you'll tear him apart before you even know what you've done." His words were cold, unyielding. "The first night is chaos. Your mind isn't yours yet. Follow me, or die—or worse, kill everything you love."Adrian's chest heaved, his breath fogging in the chill air. He wanted to argue, to lash out, but the memory of his own claws tearing through his door stopped him. He'd felt the urge to rip, to destroy, and it had taken all his will to run instead. He met Vitalis's gaze, searching for a lie, but found only grim certainty. With a shaky nod, he pushed off the tree and followed, his steps heavy with dread.The forest grew denser as they moved deeper, the trees twisting into grotesque shapes, their branches clawing at the sky. The ground softened beneath Adrian's feet, sucking at his claws with wet, gurgling sounds. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted, its cry sharp and mournful. He could hear everything—every rustle, every snap of a twig—his senses sharpened to a painful edge. And that smell again: blood and decay, faint but persistent, like a thread woven into the forest itself."Where are we going?" Adrian asked, his voice steadier now, though still rough."To the pack," Vitalis replied without turning. "You need to learn what you are before the next full moon. If you don't, you'll be a danger to us all.""The pack?" Adrian's stomach twisted. "There are more of you?"Vitalis didn't answer, only quickened his pace. Adrian clenched his jaw and followed, the questions piling up like stones in his chest.Back in the village, dawn broke gray and cold, the first light creeping over the thatched roofs. Isabella stood at the edge of the churchyard, her white robe catching the faint rays, the silver thread embroidered along the hem glinting like frost. Her hands clutched a small prayer book bound in sheepskin, its pages worn from years of use. She hadn't slept; the visions had kept her awake—flashes of wolves and fire, of a man with red eyes standing beneath a bleeding moon. She'd seen them before, these dreams, but never so vivid, never so urgent.The sound of hooves and clinking armor drew her gaze to the road. Bishop Raymond dismounted with a flourish, his black robe sweeping the dirt, the gem-encrusted scepter in his hand catching the light like a shard of ice. Behind him, Sir Roland adjusted his sword belt, the eagle on his shield stark against the steel. The soldiers fanned out, their spears held at the ready, their faces shadowed by hoods."Isabella," Raymond called, his voice smooth but commanding, "come here."She stepped forward, bowing her head slightly. "My lord," she said, her tone soft but firm. "What brings you so early?""Evil," he replied, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the village. "The stink of heresy hangs over this place. I've heard reports—claw marks, howls in the night. Tell me what you've seen."Isabella hesitated, her fingers tightening on the prayer book. She'd learned to guard her visions; the Church didn't always welcome what it couldn't control. "I've seen… shadows," she said carefully. "A wolf with a man's eyes. Fire and blood. But it's unclear, my lord. The Lord speaks in riddles sometimes."Raymond's lips curled into a thin smile, though his eyes remained cold. "Riddles, indeed. We'll unravel them soon enough. Gather the villagers. I want every detail of last night."She nodded, turning toward the church, but her mind raced. The wolf in her vision—it wasn't just a beast. There was pain in those eyes, a soul trapped in torment. She whispered a prayer under her breath, asking for guidance, but the only answer was the wind rustling through the bare trees.In the village square, Thomas stood among the growing crowd, his iron hammer resting on his shoulder. His knuckles were white from gripping it too hard, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. The howl he'd heard still echoed in his ears, a sound that wasn't just animal—it was anguish, rage, something human twisted into a beast's cry. He kept glancing toward Adrian's house, the broken door a gaping wound in the morning light."Where's Adrian?" a woman asked, clutching a child to her chest. "Luke said he ran off last night.""He's probably hiding," another man muttered, hefting a pitchfork. "Or he's one of them now."Thomas spun on him, his voice sharp. "Shut your mouth, Hans! Adrian's no monster. He fought that thing with me—he's as human as any of us.""Then where is he?" Hans shot back, his eyes narrowed. "Doors don't break themselves."Before Thomas could reply, the church horn sounded—a deep, mournful note that silenced the crowd. Sir Roland stepped forward, his armor clanking with each stride. "By order of Bishop Raymond, all are to assemble here. Now."The villagers shuffled into a rough circle, their faces pale and drawn. Thomas stayed at the edge, his gaze flickering between the church and the forest. He didn't trust the Church's men—too many stories of burned villages and "cleansed" souls—but he couldn't deny something unnatural was happening.Raymond emerged from the church, Isabella trailing behind him. He raised his scepter, the gems flashing as he spoke. "Last night, the devil walked among you," he declared, his voice ringing out. "Claws tore your homes, and howls profaned the silence. Who saw it? Speak!"Thomas stepped forward, swallowing hard. "I did, my lord. Me and Adrian—we were hunting in the Blackmoon Forest. Something attacked us. Bigger than any wolf, with eyes like a man's. It cut him bad, but he fought it off."Raymond's gaze fixed on him, sharp as a blade. "And where is this Adrian now?"Thomas hesitated, glancing at the ruined door. "He… he ran off last night. After the howl."A murmur rippled through the crowd. Raymond's smile widened, though it held no warmth. "Ran off—or became the howl. We'll find him. And we'll purge this filth from God's earth."Deep in the forest, Adrian and Vitalis reached a clearing ringed by jagged stones, each etched with faded runes. A fire flickered at the center, tended by a young woman in a beast-hide tunic, her neck adorned with a crescent-shaped bone pendant. She looked up as they approached, her dark eyes wary but curious. This was Lira, Vitalis's adopted daughter, though Adrian wouldn't learn her name until later."Who's this?" she asked, her voice soft but edged with suspicion."A newborn," Vitalis said, dropping his spear beside the fire. "Bitten yesterday. He's barely holding on."Lira studied Adrian, her gaze lingering on his torn clothes and furred hands. "He doesn't look like he'll last the week."Adrian bristled, his growl rumbling low in his chest. "I'm not dead yet."She smirked, tossing a stick into the flames. "Not yet."Vitalis ignored the exchange, kneeling by the fire to warm his hands. "Sit," he told Adrian. "The moon's fading. You'll shift back soon. Then we talk."Adrian sank to the ground, his claws digging into the dirt. The heat of the fire felt distant, his body still burning from within. He stared into the flames, trying to piece together the fragments of his shattered life—Luke, the village, the thing that had bitten him. And now this: a pack, a curse, a god he'd never believed in.As the first rays of sunlight pierced the canopy, his body began to change again. The fur receded, his bones cracked and reshaped, his claws shrank into trembling fingers. He gasped, collapsing forward, human once more—or close enough. His tunic hung in tatters, his skin slick with sweat and blood.Vitalis watched him, expression unreadable. "Welcome to your new life," he said quietly. "The Moon God's mark is on you now. There's no running from it."Adrian lifted his head, his green eyes—human again—meeting Vitalis's golden stare. "What does it want from me?"Vitalis didn't answer right away. Instead, he glanced at the sky, where the moon was now a faint ghost against the dawn. "That," he said at last, "is the question we've all been asking."In the distance, the church horn sounded again, faint but insistent. Adrian's heart sank. The village was waking—and the hunters were coming.