In the forest, Adrian lifted his head as the horn sounded again, closer this time. Vitalis was right—they were coming. He looked at the fire, then at Lira, who'd stopped sharpening her knife to listen. "If they find me," he said quietly, "what happens?""They'll kill you," Lira replied, matter-of-fact. "Or try to. The Church doesn't take kindly to our kind."Vitalis nodded, his expression grim. "And if they find us, it's war. We've hidden from them for years, but they're relentless. Your village just gave them an excuse."Adrian's stomach churned. Luke
The village square buzzed with tension as the midday sun climbed higher, its pale light filtering through a veil of gray clouds. Isabella stood beside Bishop Raymond, her white robe pristine against the muddy chaos around her, the silver-threaded hem catching faint glimmers. Her hands gripped the sheepskin prayer book, its edges worn smooth from years of restless fingers, but today it felt heavier, as if the words within were turning to stone. The air smelled of wet earth and burning pitch, the villagers' torches still smoldering despite the daylight. Their voices—angry, fearful, pleading—blended into a low roar, like the distant rumble of a storm.Raymond raised his scepter, the gems flashing red and green in the sunlight, and the crowd fell silent. His black robe billowed slightly in the breeze, gold trim glinting like a warning. "The evidence is clear," he declared, his voice cutting through the stillness. "A man has turned beast under the full moon. Claw marks scar your homes, and a howl has defiled God's peace. This is no accident—it is the devil's work, and we will purge it."Isabella's stomach tightened. She glanced at the villagers—Thomas with his hammer, Hans with his pitchfork, the old women clutching rosaries—and saw not just fear but a growing hunger for vengeance. She'd seen this before in other villages: fear turning to fire, faith twisting into fury. Her eyes drifted to Adrian's house, its broken door swaying like a wound in the wind. Luke's story echoed in her mind—a shadow that was both man and wolf, the moon following it. It matched her visions too closely to be coincidence."My lord," she said softly, stepping forward, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "If this Adrian is afflicted, might he not be a victim rather than a villain? My dreams suggest suffering, not malice. Perhaps we should seek understanding before judgment."Raymond turned to her, his cold eyes narrowing. "Understanding, Isabella? The Church does not coddle heretics. This is a plague of the soul, and fire is its cure." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Your visions are a gift from God, but do not let them soften your resolve. Doubt is the devil's whisper."She bowed her head, the rebuke stinging, but her mind refused to quiet. The wolf in her dreams hadn't been a mindless beast—its red eyes held pain, a trapped humanity crying out. She'd spent her life serving the Church, trusting its teachings, but now cracks were forming in that faith. She murmured a prayer under her breath—"Lord, guide me through this shadow"—but the words felt hollow, unanswered.Sir Roland approached, his lock-mail clinking with each step, the eagle shield slung over his back. "My lord," he said, his voice low and measured, "my men found tracks leading into the Blackmoon Forest—claws, too big for any wolf. Fresh, from last night. The boy's tale holds."Raymond's smile returned, thin and sharp. "Good. Take your men and follow them. Bring me this Adrian, alive if you can. I want to see the beast with my own eyes before we burn it."Roland hesitated, his gray eyes flickering to Isabella for a moment. "And if he resists?""Then end him," Raymond replied without pause. "God's mercy has limits."Roland nodded curtly and turned away, barking orders to the soldiers. Their spears clattered as they formed ranks, their hooded faces grim under the weight of their task. Isabella watched them march toward the forest, her heart sinking. She'd seen hunts like this end in blood-soaked fields, bodies piled for the pyre. Something about this felt different, though—less like justice and more like a trap closing.Thomas pushed through the crowd, his hammer swinging at his side. "Wait!" he shouted, his voice rough with desperation. "Let me go with them. Adrian's my friend—I can talk to him, bring him back!"Raymond's gaze slid to him, cold and appraising. "Your loyalty is admirable, blacksmith, but misplaced. If he's turned, he's no longer the man you knew. Stay here, or join him in the flames."Thomas's face reddened, his knuckles whitening on the hammer, but he stayed rooted, silenced by the bishop's threat. Isabella stepped closer to him, her voice low. "I'll pray for your friend, Thomas. There's still hope."He met her eyes, his own bloodshot and weary. "Hope? Tell that to the Church's torches."She had no answer, only a tightening in her throat as she turned back to Raymond. The bishop was already moving toward the church, his scepter tapping the ground like a metronome of doom. She followed, her steps heavy, the prayer book a lifeline she wasn't sure she trusted anymore.In the Blackmoon Forest, Adrian crouched by the fire, his human hands still trembling from the shift. The torn remnants of his tunic hung loose, exposing the raw, pink skin where fur had been. The clearing was silent save for the crackle of flames and the occasional scrape of Lira's whetstone against her bone knife. Vitalis stood at the edge, his wolfskin cloak blending with the shadows, his golden eyes scanning the trees. The distant church horn had faded, but its echo lingered in Adrian's mind, a warning of what was coming."What happens if they find us?" Adrian asked, his voice low, rough from exhaustion. He flexed his fingers, testing their humanity, but the memory of claws lingered like a phantom itch."They'll try to kill us," Lira said without looking up, her knife gleaming as she turned it in the firelight. "The Church doesn't parley with 'monsters.'"Vitalis grunted, stepping back to the fire. "She's right. They've hunted us for years—burned our dens, strung up our kin. We've stayed hidden, but your little rampage last night stirred the nest."Adrian's chest tightened. "I didn't mean to—I didn't know what I was doing.""Doesn't matter," Vitalis said, his tone flat. "They'll see a beast, not a man. And they'll come with steel and fire."Adrian stared into the flames, the heat prickling his skin. "My brother's there. Luke. If they think I'm a monster, what happens to him?"Vitalis didn't answer right away, his scarred face unreadable. Lira paused her sharpening, her dark eyes flicking to him. "If he's smart, he'll keep quiet," she said. "If not… the Church doesn't spare kin of the cursed."The words hit like a blow, and Adrian surged to his feet, his fists clenched. "I won't let them touch him!"Vitalis grabbed his shoulder, shoving him back down with a force that rattled his bones. "You won't help him by charging in blind," he growled. "You're no good to anyone until you control the beast. Sit. Learn. Or die."Adrian glared up at him, his breath ragged, but the truth in Vitalis's words held him still. He'd felt the urge to tear, to kill, last night—Luke could've been the victim if he hadn't run. He sank back to the ground, his hands digging into the dirt. "What do I need to learn?"Vitalis released him, stepping back. "How to keep your mind when the moon rises. How to shift without losing yourself. It's not easy—most don't survive it."Lira smirked, resuming her sharpening. "He's got a chance. Stubborn ones last longer."Adrian ignored her, focusing on Vitalis. "And the Moon God—Lunae? You said she cursed us. Why?"Vitalis's eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "A long time ago, she was betrayed. Her priests sought power, broke their oaths. She turned their gift into a curse—made them what we are. That's the story we're told.""Betrayed by who?" Adrian pressed.Vitalis shook his head. "Doesn't matter now. What matters is surviving her wrath."A rustle in the trees cut off Adrian's reply. Vitalis tensed, his spear snapping up, while Lira dropped her whetstone, her knife ready. Adrian's heart raced, his senses sharpening despite his human form—he could hear boots crunching leaves, the faint clink of metal. The Church was close."Hide," Vitalis hissed, kicking dirt over the fire to smother it. "Now!"Back in the village, Isabella stood inside the church, the stone walls cold and damp against her back. The air smelled of incense and mildew, the altar adorned with a wooden cross and a single flickering candle. Raymond knelt before it, his scepter resting beside him, his lips moving in silent prayer. She watched him, her mind churning with questions she couldn't voice.The door creaked open, and a soldier stepped in, his spear tapping the floor. "My lord, Sir Roland's men found a campsite in the forest—runes on stones, a fire still warm. No sign of the man yet, but the tracks split. They're spreading out."Raymond rose, his robe rustling like dry leaves. "Runes? Pagan filth." He turned to Isabella, his eyes gleaming. "Your visions grow clearer, don't they? Tell me what you see."She swallowed, her throat dry. "The wolf with red eyes… he's not alone. There are others, hiding. And the moon—it bleeds, my lord. I don't know why."Raymond's smile widened, a hint of triumph in it. "Others. A nest of vermin, then. We'll burn them all." He picked up his scepter, striding toward the door. "Come, Isabella. You'll witness God's justice."She followed, her steps reluctant, the prayer book a dead weight in her hands. As they stepped outside, she glanced at the Blackmoon Forest, its dark silhouette looming against the sky. The wind carried a faint howl—distant, mournful—and her heart skipped. The wolf in her dreams wasn't just a beast. It was a man, and he was afraid.