Beneath The White Moon by AJ🖤 at Inkitt

PROLOGUE | THE BEGINNING

A Thousand Years Ago

During that time, everything changed.

What had once been a world of quiet order and uneasy peace collapsed into chaos almost overnight. The greatest battle in recorded history of Werewolves erupted without warning, tearing through kingdoms and cities with a violence no one had imagined possible. Entire regions of the earth were scarred beyond recognition. Forests burned, rivers ran red, and ancient cities that had stood for centuries were reduced to rubble and ash.

Countless Wolves died.

Many of them had no idea what the war was even about.

They did not understand the forces that had been set in motion. They did not know the names of the people responsible. They only knew that their homes had become battlefields and that the sky itself sometimes seemed to tremble with the weight of the conflict.

And it all began with a young man.

He was not powerful. He was not famous. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him to the outside world. He was simply a kind and warm hearted person, the sort of man who helped strangers carry heavy bags or offered food to those who had none. People in his neighbourhood knew him as someone who smiled easily and never spoke harshly.

But he loved his mother more than anything.

And his mother was dying.

The illness had taken hold of her slowly at first, creeping into her body like a shadow. At the beginning she had only complained of small things. Fatigue. A cough that would not disappear. A weakness that made simple tasks difficult.

Then the sickness grew worse.

Much worse.

Now she could barely leave her bed, and every breath she took seemed to cost her something.

Charles knew she did not have much time left.

Still, he refused to give up hope.

That morning he had heard about a medication. It was rare and expensive, but it existed. Some people said it had saved lives before. Others claimed it was nothing more than a rumor. Charles did not care. Even the smallest chance was enough for him.

So he walked to the healers medical station at the edge of town.

The building was small and simple, constructed of pale stone that had weathered many years of wind and rain. A wooden sign hung crookedly above the door, creaking softly whenever the breeze pushed against it. The windows were narrow, and the inside of the building looked dim even in the bright daylight.

Charles hesitated for only a moment before opening the door.

A small bell above, it rang softly as he stepped inside.

The room smelled strongly of herbs, antiseptic, and old wood. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with bottles, jars, and bundles of dried plants tied together with twine. Behind a heavy wooden desk sat a woman who looked as though she had been working there for many years.

She barely glanced up when he entered.

Charles approached the desk, trying to remain calm even though his heart was pounding.

“I would like to buy some medication,"he said politely. His voice carried a quiet urgency he could not hide. “My mother is gravely sick. She is dying. Please, you have to help me."

The woman finally lifted her eyes.

Her expression was not sympathetic.

“If that is the case,"she said coolly, „I would like to see your papers."

Charles blinked in confusion.

“My...papers?"

“Yes, your identification,"the woman clarified, tapping one finger impatiently on the desk. “If I do not know who you are, I cannot sell you any type of medication."

For a moment he simply stared at her.

“What papers are you talking about?"he asked slowly. „I have never needed anything like that before."

“It is the law now,"she replied without hesitation.

Charles felt a knot tighten in his chest.

“Please,"he said quietly. “My mother is at home right now, she can barely breathe. I am begging you."

The woman’s face remained cold and unmoved.

“There is nothing I can do for you, please leave this station immediately"she said.

The words hit him harder than he expected.

For a few seconds he stood there in stunned silence.

Then anger began to rise beneath the fear and desperation.

“Who made that rule?"he demanded anger flaring.

The woman straightened slightly, her chin lifting with unmistakable pride.

“Our king of course."

Charles felt something inside him snap.

How could anyone be proud of that miserable and weak creature ruling over them?

“You’re all delusional. He is a liar!"Charles said bitterly. “A traitor and the worst ruler for our kind."

The woman pushed her chair back with a sudden scrape against the floor and stepped around the desk.

Her eyes burning with fury.

“OUR KING IS THE GREATEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO THIS WORLD,"she shouted. “Don’t you dare speak of him like that ever again."

Her claws slid slowly from the tips of her fingers as she stepped closer.

A low growl vibrated in her throat.

“Leave, now!"she said quietly, “before I shift and tear your throat open. How dare you speak this lowly of our king"

Charles swallowed.

For the first time since entering the station he realised just how dangerous the situation had become.

He nodded slowly.

Then he turned and walked out.

The bell above the door rang again as he stepped back into the sunlight.

He did not look back.

His hands were trembling as he reached the street. The walk home felt longer than usual, even though he knew every street and corner of the town by heart. The whole time his mind raced, searching desperately for another solution that did not exist.

When he finally arrived, he hurried inside the house and climbed the stairs two at a time.

The door to his mother’s room was slightly open.

He pushed it gently and stepped inside.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn halfway to block the harsh daylight. His mother laid in the bed exactly where he had left her that morning, her breathing shallow and uneven.

Charles sat down beside her.

Her eyes slowly opened.

“Charles,"she whispered.

He took her hand carefully.

“I went to get the medicine,"he said quickly. “But she didn’t give it to me. She said I needidentificationpapers."

She studied him for a moment, and something in her expression softened.

“My son,"she said quietly, her voice rough with exhaustion. “You know that I will die very soon."

Charles shook his head immediately.

“No! Do not say that."

But she continued anyway.

“You must attack the king, and kill him once and for all"she whispered between painful coughs.

Charles stared at her in disbelief.

“But Mother,"he said helplessly, “how am I supposed to do that? I have nothing, no one to fight with... I’m just a mere wolf.”

Her thin fingers tightened weakly around his hand.

“Oh yes,"she murmured. “You do."

Her eyes seemed darker suddenly, as though they were looking at something far beyond the small room.

“Deep inside you,"she said slowly, “is something that every wolf and every human in this world fears."

Charles felt a strange chill run through him.

“Your only job is to let it out."

He didn’t fully understand what she meant, but he nodded anyway.

“I will try,"he promised quietly.

She gave him a faint smile.

Charles stood and left the room for a while so she could rest. Downstairs he prepared a simple meal for her, something warm that might give her strength. Cooking helped him calm his thoughts, if only a little.

Two hours later he carried the bowl carefully back upstairs.

“Mother?"he said softly as he entered the room. “I brought you something to eat. I made your favourite stew."

She did not respond.

Charles set the bowl down beside the bed.

“Mother?"

Still nothing.

He gently touched her shoulder.

Her body did not move.

The silence in the room suddenly felt unbearable.

“Mother?"he whispered again.

But she did not wake.

Charles sank slowly to his knees beside the bed, the weight of the realisation crashing down on him all at once.

And he cried.

A week later, Charles walked through the dark streets of the small town.

Night had settled over the town like a heavy blanket. The narrow cobblestone streets were slick with rain, reflecting the weak glow of the lanterns that hung from crooked iron poles. Most of the houses were dark. Curtains were drawn. Doors were locked.

The small town slept early.

Only the wind moved through the empty streets, whispering softly between the buildings and carrying the distant creak of old wood and rusted metal.

Charles walked slowly, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat.

His footsteps echoed quietly with every step.

He did not notice how tense his body had become. He did not notice how the silence of the night seemed to press closer around him with every passing moment.

Then he saw it.

At the end of the street, something moved.

A wolf.

It stepped into the lantern light for only a moment, its dark fur blending almost perfectly with the shadows. Its head hung low as it sniffed the ground, moving slowly through the street as though it owned the night itself.

Charles froze.

A sudden chill ran through his body.

Without thinking, he slipped into a narrow alley between two buildings and pressed himself against the damp stone wall. The air there smelled of wet dirt and old garbage.

He held his breath.

The wolf continued walking.

Its claws clicked faintly against the cobblestones. Its ears twitched as it listened to the quiet town. For a moment its head lifted slightly, as if it sensed something nearby.

Charles did not move.

Not even a breath.

Seconds passed.

Then the wolf turned and disappeared around the corner.

Only after several long moments did Charles slowly step out of the alley again.

The street was empty.

He exhaled slowly and began walking again.

But something inside him had changed.

At first it was only a faint stirring deep within his chest, like a distant echo of something that had always been there.

Then it grew stronger.

Hatred.

Violent.

Burning.

It surged through him so suddenly that he staggered forward.

“What...?"

The feeling spread through his body like fire.

His hands trembled.

The hatred grew stronger and stronger until it felt as if something inside his chest was clawing its way out.

Charles fell to his knees.

His fingers dug into the cold cobblestones as a guttural sound escaped his throat.

It was not pain.

It was something far worse.

It felt as though hatred itself had nested inside his body, feeding on his thoughts, spreading through his veins like poison.

Something inside him was waking up.

Charles screamed.

His hands began to change first.

His fingers lengthened as the bones shifted violently beneath his skin. His nails twisted and hardened, stretching outward into long, curved claws that gleamed faintly in the lantern light.

The muscles in his arms swelled and tightened.

His jaw began to crack.

A sickening series of sharp pops echoed in the empty street as his mouth stretched wider and wider. His teeth sharpened, multiplying and pushing against one another until his mouth filled with jagged fangs.

His breathing turned heavy.

Animalistic.

His beautiful blue eyes darkened slowly.

Then they turned red.

Blood red.

When the transformation finally ended, the creature that stood in the street was no longer human.

It rose slowly to its full height.

Nearly three meters tall.

Black smoke curled around its massive body, thick and swirling like living shadows. It clung to the creature so densely that its true form could barely be seen.

Only a towering silhouette remained visible against the dim lantern light.

Charles had become the legend itself.

A Shadow Walker.

Or as the old stories described them.

Servants of the night.

Creatures that feed on emotions, hatred, darkness, and pain.

Charles had become something far worse.

He had become aHollow.

He stepped forward slowly and looked down at a puddle of rainwater collected in the street.

His reflection stared back at him.

A towering shape made of darkness and smoke.

His red eyes glowed faintly within the shadow.

For a long moment he simply stared.

Then he lifted his head.

His hearing had changed.

The world around him suddenly seemed louder. Every sound traveled farther. The distant creaking of houses. The faint rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then he heard something else.

A scream.

High.

Desperate.

Human.

Charles turned instantly.

The sound came from another street.

He moved toward it without hesitation.

When he turned the corner, the scene revealed itself in the pale lantern light.

The wolf from before stood in the middle of the street.

It was crouched over a man who was laying on the ground, helpless beneath its massive body. Blood covered the cobblestones around them.

The wolf tore into the man’s shoulder with its teeth.

The man screamed again.

Charles moved.

In a single motion he crossed the distance between them and grabbed the wolf by the throat.

The animal barely had time to react before Charles ripped it away from the dying man and hurled it violently across the street.

The wolf hit the ground hard.

It tried to rise.

Charles was faster, he was already there.

His claws flashed once.

The wolf’s body went still.

Silence returned to the street.

Charles turned slowly toward the man lying on the ground.

The victim was barely alive.

His breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps. Blood poured from the wounds torn into his chest and shoulder.

His eyes rolled weakly toward the towering shadow standing above him.

Charles crouched beside him.

For a moment he simply watched.

Then one of his claws descended.

It pierced the man’s chest effortlessly.

The claw drove straight through his heart and emerged from his back.

For a moment nothing happened.

The street remained silent.

Then the man’s eyes snapped open.

They were no longer human.

They were red.

The same blood red as Charles’s.

Charles pulled his claw free and allowed the body to slide slowly to the ground.

The man’s body began to convulse violently.

His limbs twisted and curled inward as he coughed and choked on his own blood.

He screamed.

The sound was horrible.

It echoed through the empty streets, raw, desperate and filled with agony.

Minutes passed.

The screaming continued.

Then it stopped.

The man’s body fell still.

And he died.

Charles stood over the corpse for a long time.

Then suddenly he ran.

He moved through the dark streets like a shadow, vanishing into the night before anyone could see him.

When he reached his home, the transformation finally released him.

His body collapsed against the floor as his human form returned.

But he did not sleep.

Instead he began searching.

He tore through every cupboard, every drawer, every shelf in the house. Papers scattered across the floor. Books fell open as he flipped through them desperately.

He needed answers.

He needed to understand what he had become.

More importantly.

He needed to know how to control it.

Hours passed.

When he finally found something.

An old book hidden beneath a pile of forgotten documents.

His hands trembled slightly as he opened it.

He flipped through the pages quickly until his eyes caught a single passage.

Whoever dies by the claws of a Hollow may be transformed into a Hollow.

The claws must not strike too close to the heart.

But not too far from it either.

Charles stared at the words.

Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

A terrible idea began to take shape in his mind.

He threw the book across the room.

Then he sat down.

Very still.

Because he had just realized something important.

He would not be alone for long.

The next morning was ordinary.

Sunlight crept slowly across the rooftops of the small town, touching the narrow streets and quiet houses one by one. Shopkeepers opened their doors. Children ran through the alleys chasing each other. The town moved through its usual routines without noticing that something had already begun to rot beneath its surface.

Charles walked calmly down the same street he had taken the week before.

He looked exactly the same.

His hair was neat. His coat was clean. His expression was relaxed, almost cheerful.

Only his eyes had changed.

There was something inside them now that had not been there before. Something colder. Something deeper.

When he reached the Healers station, he stopped in front of the door and stared at it for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

And kicked it open.

The door slammed against the wall with a violent crack.

The small bell above it rang wildly as the wood shook.

Inside, the woman behind the desk jumped to her feet in shock.

“What are you doing?! What do you wanthere?"she asked tensely.

Charles stepped inside slowly.

He closed the door behind him with deliberate care, as if he had all the time in the world.

Then he walked toward the desk.

The smile on his face never faded.

“I came to make you an offer,"he said pleasantly.

The woman frowned, watching him carefully.

“What kind of offer?"

Charles leaned forward slightly and rested his hands on the desk.

His voice lowered.

“You sneakily kill a few people for me,"he said softly, “and I forgive your rather rude way of speaking to me the other day."

For a moment she simply stared at him.

Then her expression hardened.

“I will not do that."

Charles tilted his head.

The smile on his face widened slightly, but there was nothing warm about it.

“That is unfortunate,"he said quietly.

He straightened slowly.

“Fine,"he continued. “Have it your way."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Then I will make sure the most feared creature in history turns your life into hell."

The woman froze.

“What are you talking about?"she asked.

Charles laughed.

The sound was low and unsettling.

“That cannot be possible,"she said quickly, though the certainty had already vanished from her voice.

Charles stepped around the desk.

Before she could react, his hand closed around her arm.

His grip was iron.

“Let me show you something,"he said.

The woman tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened.

Pain shot through her arm.

She stopped struggling.

Within minutes, they were gone.

And the plan had begun.

That evening the town gathered in the towns park.

It was the largest festival of the year.

Lanterns hung from trees in long glowing rows, casting warm light across the grass and pathways. Music drifted through the air as musicians played near the center of the park. Vendors sold food and drinks from wooden stalls, and laughter filled the night.

Thousands of people crowded the festival grounds.

Families.

Children.

Friends celebrating beneath the stars.

No one noticed Charles moving through the crowd.

The Healer walked beside him.

Her hands trembled slightly.

Charles leaned close to her ear.

His breath brushed her skin.

“Stick to the plan,"he whispered.

His voice was soft.

Almost gentle.

But the words carried a quiet threat.

“You know what will happen if you don’t."

She nodded quickly.

Then she stepped into the crowd.

The first victim collapsed almost immediately.

At first no one noticed.

The music continued.

Laughter echoed through the lantern lit park.

Then another person fell.

Then another.

Confusion began to ripple through the crowd.

Someone shouted.

Someone screamed.

She moved through the people like a ghost.

Each time she struck, another body dropped to the ground.

Charles watched.

And smiled.

Then he raised his weapon an old gun.

The first gunshot cracked through the night like thunder.

Everything changed instantly.

Panic exploded across the festival.

People screamed and ran in every direction as more shots rang out. Bodies fell onto the grass. Lanterns shattered. Tables overturned.

The music stopped.

Police sirens howled somewhere in the distance.

Charles moved through the chaos slowly, firing again and again into the terrified crowd.

The police arrived quickly.

They shouted for him to stop.

Then they opened fire.

Bullets struck him.

One tore through his shoulder.

Another buried itself in his chest.

Charles did not even flinch.

The wounds closed almost immediately.

The officers stared in horror as the blood simply vanished.

Then the black smoke began to rise.

Charles shifted.

His body expanded violently, bones cracking as his form grew larger and darker. The creature that rose from the smoke towered above the terrified survivors.

People ran.

Some froze.

Others fell to their knees in shock.

The healer watched in absolute terror.

The creature stepped toward her.

She could not move.

Its claws lifted.

They struck her chest with terrifying precision.

Only a few centimeters away from her heart.

She collapsed onto the ground.

For a moment she didn’t breathe.

Charles waited.

Then her eyes opened.

Blood red.

Charles returned to his human form slowly.

He reached down and helped her to her feet.

“What is your name?"he asked in a deep, rough voice.

“Lavena,"she whispered.

Charles nodded.

“You belong to me now, Lavena."

The first Hollows gathered behind him before dawn.

Some of them were still shaking.

Others stared at their new claws in silent disbelief.

None of them understood what they had become.

Lavena stood beside Charles.

The others instinctively kept their distance from her.

Charles turned toward the forest.

“There is a house there,"he said calmly. “It belonged to my grandfather."

They followed him without hesitation.

The old house stood deep within the forest, hidden among thick trees and tangled vines. It had been abandoned for years, but it was large enough to hold them all.

When they arrived, one of the men stepped forward nervously.

“What now, Charles?"

Charles moved so quickly the man did not even see it coming.

His hand grabbed the man’s collar and lifted him off the ground.

His red eyes burned with fury.

“All of you will address me as Master,"he said coldly.

His voice carried through the silent house.

“Anyone who doesn’t will get punished."

He dropped the man to the floor.

No one argued.

That night the first army of Hollows slept beneath the same roof.

And the world had no idea what had just been born in the forest.

The next morning Charles sat at the long kitchen table eating breakfast with Lavena.

The house was quiet.

Most of the others were still asleep after the chaos of the previous night.

Lavena studied him carefully.

He looked calm.

Relaxed.

As if nothing terrible had happened.

After breakfast she rose and joined the others while Charles left the house.

He drove to another city.

And by the time he returned that evening, more Hollows followed behind him.

Lavena approached him quietly.

“What do we do now, Master?"

Charles looked out toward the dark forest surrounding the house.

His smile returned slowly.

“We will figure out how to kill the king,"he said softly.

“He is a disgrace."

The room fell silent.

No one dared to answer.

Most of them were too afraid.

Because even they had begun to understand something terrible.

The man they followed was no longer human.

Half a Year Later

By then, everyone knew the name Charles.

It spread across the country like a disease that no one could stop.

Villages whispered about him behind closed doors. Travelers spoke his name in frightened voices on the roads. Entire towns locked their gates at night and prayed that the Hollows would not come.

But the prayers did nothing.

Charles’s army grew larger every month.

People disappeared.

Cities burned.

And wherever the Hollows passed, blood followed.

By the end of those six months, more than 500.000 followers served him. They moved through the forests, the towns, and the cities like shadows wearing human faces.

And every one of them answered to a single name.

Master.

Of course, the king knew.

He had known for months.

At first he sent scouts. Then soldiers. Then entire hunting parties of his best warriors.

None of them ever returned.

The forests swallowed them.

The Hollows tore them apart.

Eventually the king realized that Charles was not simply a murderer or a rebel.

He was something far worse.

He was a plague.

And plagues had to be destroyed.

But Charles knew the king was watching.

And Charles had never been a patient man.

So the Hollows made a plan.

One of their spies approached the castle disguised as a wolf messenger. The wolves had no reason to suspect him. He carried information between settlements and watched everything carefully.

When he returned the following morning, he went directly to the Master’s house in the forest.

The large room fell silent as he entered.

The young wolf bowed his head.

“In a few days,"he said nervously, „the king will hold a speech to the people. He wishes to calm them. He believes fear is spreading too quickly."

Charles leaned back in his chair.

His red eyes gleamed.

“Will he be protected?"he asked.

The wolf nodded slowly.

“Of course. But he has already lost many soldiers. The crowd will be large. It won’t be safe for him."

Charles smiled.

A slow, terrible smile.

“I will send some of you there,"he said loudly, looking at the Hollows gathered around him.

“You know what to do."

The room filled with quiet murmurs.

Excitement.

Hunger.

They had been waiting for this moment.

A few days later the courtyard in front of the castle overflowed with people.

Thousands gathered there, filling every open space between the tall stone walls. Merchants stood beside their carts. Families held their children close. Soldiers moved through the crowd, watching carefully for any sign of trouble.

Among them stood the Hollows.

Hundreds of them.

Perhaps thousands.

They looked exactly like everyone else.

Human.

Calm.

Patient.

They waited.

Nearly half an hour passed before the king finally stepped onto the podium.

The crowd quieted immediately.

The king stood tall, his presence commanding the entire courtyard. His hair was silver and his armor shone brightly in the sunlight. Even from a distance it was clear that he was not an ordinary ruler.

He was a wolf.

A powerful one with royal Blood.

He raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent.

“My fellow citizens,"he began, his voice carrying across the entire courtyard.

“We have gathered here today to talk about something terrible."

He paused briefly.

“The Hollows."

A murmur passed through the crowd.

“They walk among us,"the king continued grimly. “They look like us in their human form, but at night they become monstrous creatures. Beasts that feed on hatred and darkness."

His eyes scanned the crowd.

“And even now, some of them may already be standing among us."

For a moment nothing happened.

Then someone screamed.

The panic spread instantly.

People shoved past each other trying to escape the courtyard.

But the Hollows did not run.

They attacked.

Claws tore through flesh.

Blood splattered across the stone ground.

The king’s soldiers rushed forward immediately, shifting into massive wolves as they threw themselves into battle.

But the Hollows were stronger.

Far stronger.

They moved like predators among prey, tearing through the king’s men with brutal efficiency. Anyone who stood in their way was killed without hesitation.

The courtyard became a slaughterhouse.

The king realized immediately what had happened.

He ran.

But he did not get far.

Charles stepped into his path.

The two of them stood facing each other as chaos erupted all around them.

“What do you want from me?!"the king demanded angrily.

Charles smiled.

Then he punched him.

The blow cracked across the king’s jaw and sent him stumbling backward.

Before Charles could strike again, the king shifted.

His body shifted violently, bones cracking and stretching as his human form vanished.

In its place stood a magnificent white wolf.

His fur shone like snow in the sunlight. His golden eyes burned with fierce intelligence and pride.

He did not look afraid.

He lunged.

The king’s claws slashed across Charles’s chest with tremendous force.

Charles staggered back.

For a moment surprise flickered across his face.

He had underestimated him.

The king attacked again.

And again.

Each strike carried the strength of a true alpha.

But Charles only laughed.

The black smoke began to curl around him once more.

His body expanded.

The Master transformed.

The creature that emerged from the darkness towered over the white wolf.

Its claws gleamed like blades.

The battle that followed shook the entire courtyard.

The king fought with everything he had. His claws tore into Charles’s flesh again and again, ripping open deep wounds.

But the wounds closed almost instantly.

Charles barely felt them.

Then he struck.

His claws ripped through the king’s side.

The white wolf howled in agony.

Blood poured across the stone ground.

Still the king refused to fall.

He shifted back into human form, breathing heavily as his body struggled to heal the deep gashes across his stomach.

Four long wounds marked his flesh.

But Charles struck again before the healing could even begin.

His claws tore into the king’s chest.

The king collapsed to his knees.

Lavena approached quickly.

“Charles,"she said urgently, “we need to retreat. There are more coming straight towards us."

Charles ignored her completely.

He grabbed the king by the throat and lifted him from the ground.

The king struggled weakly.

Charles leaned closer.

His red eyes burned with pure hatred.

“You thought you ruled this world,"he whispered.

Blood dripped from the king’s wounds.

“You let my mother die."

The king stared at him.

“I had nothing to do with that,"he rasped.

Charles laughed.

A horrible sound.

“It does not matter."

His grip tightened.

“I will erase your bloodline."

The king’s eyes widened.

“Every wolf that dares to stand in my way will vanish from this world."

Charles’s voice became colder.

“I will cleanse it."

The king tried to speak again.

He never finished.

Charles drove his claws straight through the king’s chest.

The body went still.

For a moment the courtyard seemed to freeze.

Then the king’s body fell lifelessly to the ground.

Charles stood over him, smiling.

Because the war had only just begun.

The Hollows stormed back into the forest that night like a victorious army returning from war.

Their laughter echoed between the trees. Blood still stained their hands and clothes, but none of them cared. They had just killed the king. The most powerful wolf in the world had fallen beneath their claws, and the thrill of it pulsed through every one of them like fire.

Torches were lit around the old house in the woods. Music played. Bottles were opened. Some of them danced, others fought each other for sport, tearing flesh only to watch the wounds close again seconds later.

They celebrated the way monsters celebrated.

Charles stood apart from them for a while, watching the madness with quiet satisfaction. His red eyes glowed faintly in the darkness as the firelight flickered across his face.

After some time the others drifted inside the house, exhausted from their violent celebration. The night grew quieter as the sounds of laughter slowly faded.

Charles remained outside.

The forest around him breathed softly in the darkness.

Then he heard footsteps.

Someone approached from the trees.

Charles turned slowly.

A man stepped out of the shadows.

He was tall and lean, dressed completely in black. His hair was as dark as the night around them, and his face carried a calm, almost pleasant expression.

He smiled when he saw Charles.

“Congratulations,"the stranger said calmly. “I always wanted that man dead."

Charles studied him carefully.

His instincts told him something about the stranger was unusual, but he could not quite place it. The man smelled human. His heartbeat was steady. There was no fear in him at all.

Only patience.

Charles’s gaze dropped briefly to the stranger’s hand.

A simple ring rested on one of his fingers.

It looked old.

Ancient.

Charles frowned slightly but dismissed the thought almost immediately. The stranger looked harmless enough.

“What is your name?"Charles asked.

“Everett,"the man replied.

Charles nodded slowly.

“Come inside."

Everett followed him into the house.

The Hollows immediately surrounded the newcomer with curiosity. Some of them sniffed the air suspiciously, while others simply stared at him.

Within minutes they discovered something about Everett that made them very happy.

He was an excellent cook.

Within days he had taken over the kitchen completely.

Meals improved.

Food appeared on time.

And because of that, they allowed him to stay.

But they never treated him as one of them.

To them he was still human.

Weak.

Inferior.

They mocked him constantly. Some of them pushed him around simply for entertainment. Others threw food at him or forced him to clean their messes long after midnight.

Everett never complained.

He never fought back.

He simply smiled.

And worked.

Years passed.

The Hollows continued to grow stronger. Their numbers increased. Their influence spread across the land like a dark tide.

And Everett remained among them.

Watching.

Learning.

Waiting.

Charles occasionally studied him with mild curiosity. The human had survived longer than most servants usually did. Most people broke after a few months of abuse.

Everett never broke.

He simply smiled.

Always polite.

Always obedient.

Sometimes Charles noticed the ring on Everett’s finger again. It caught the light strangely, almost as if something inside the metal moved beneath the surface.

But Charles never questioned it.

He had far greater things to think about.

Several years later the time finally came.

Everett woke before dawn, just like he did every morning.

The house was still quiet. The Hollows slept heavily after another night of violence and excess.

He moved quickly through the kitchen, preparing breakfast for all of them.

Eggs.

Bread.

Meat.

Everything had to be ready before they woke.

If it was late, they would beat him.

If it tasted bad, they would beat him.

Sometimes they beat him simply because they were bored.

Everett worked silently, the same small smile resting on his face.

When the food was finished he carried the trays to the dining room.

The Hollows barely looked at him.

Some laughed.

Some insulted him.

One of them shoved him aside so hard he struck the wall.

Everett only nodded politely.

Then he left.

For the first time in weeks he stepped outside.

The cold morning air filled his lungs.

It felt almost unreal.

He walked slowly into the forest until he reached a quiet clearing.

There he knelt beside an old tree and began digging into the soil.

After a moment his fingers brushed against something buried beneath the dirt.

He pulled it free.

A small leather notebook.

The pages inside were filled with careful handwriting.

Everett opened it and turned to the last blank page.

He began to write.

My name is Everett Sawyer Ferkons.

I am a Seeker.

We are guardians who exist in silence. We protect the wolves from unnaturally born enemies, like the Hollows. Our order does not rule kingdoms and does not seek glory. We act unseen so that others may live without knowing the darkness that waits for them.

The Hollows are stronger than wolves. Their bodies regenerate quickly and their strength is deeply unsettling and unnatural. They thrive on hatred, suffering, emotions and death.

But they are not immortal.

Only a Seeker’s ancient blade can truly destroy them.

He paused for a moment.

The wind moved softly through the trees.

Then he continued writing.

The blade is bound to the ring I carry. The weapon does not exist in the world until it is called. Only a Seeker may summon it.

The Master believes himself unstoppable. His arrogance is his greatest weakness. He underestimates those he considers beneath him.

That is why I have survived this long.

Years of humiliation.

Years of watching.

Years of pretending to be weak.

But today it ends.

If you are reading this, then I have either succeeded or failed.

If I failed, learn from my mistakes.

Destroy them, kill them all so that the next generations can live their lives in peace rather than fear.

Everett closed the notebook slowly.

He buried it again beneath the tree.

Footsteps approached.

Lavena stepped into the clearing.

“What are you doing here?"she snapped angrily. „You should have been back half an hour ago."

Everett lowered his head politely.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I was lost in thought."

Her eyes narrowed.

Then she struck him hard across the face.

Everett staggered slightly but did not react.

Lavena turned and began walking back toward the house.

He followed.

That night the house fell quiet again.

The Hollows slept.

Everett remained awake.

He sat in the kitchen reading an old book by candlelight when he heard something outside.

Howling.

Wolves.

The attack began seconds later.

Everett ran upstairs and burst into Charles’s room.

“We’re under attack, Master,” he said urgently.

Charles was awake instantly.

Within moments the Hollows gathered outside the house.

The forest was filled with wolves.

Dozens of them.

Perhaps hundreds.

Charles stepped forward, furious.

“Who dares attack me?"he roared.

The wolves lunged.

Chaos exploded around them.

Claws clashed.

Blood spilled.

And in the middle of the battle Everett quietly disappeared.

He returned moments later.

This time he carried something.

A sword.

It was enormous.

A greatsword forged from pale metal that shimmered with a strange icy light. Despite its size Everett held it easily in one hand, as if the weight and size meant nothing to him.

Charles saw him immediately.

“What are you doing?!"Charles demanded.

Everett walked calmly toward the wolves ignoring Charles.

“My name is Everett Sawyer Ferkons,"he said.

His voice carried clearly across the battlefield.

“Unlike you, I am a Seeker."

The Hollows stared in confusion.

Charles frowned.

“What is a Seeker?"

Everett ignored his questions once again and attacked.

Charles transformed instantly and lunged at him.

The battle was violent and fast.

Charles slashed open Everett’s stomach with one brutal strike. Blood poured down Everett’s side.

But Everett did not fall.

He laughed.

Then he charged.

The greatsword moved faster than anything Charles had ever seen.

Everett drove the blade deep into Charles’s chest.

Charles screamed.

The blade burned inside him like frozen fire.

Everett twisted it.

Again.

And again.

Charles dropped to his knees, his body convulsing violently as the ancient weapon destroyed him from the inside.

Everett leaned closer, his smile cold and fearless.

Charles’s eyes widened with horror.

Everett drove the blade deeper.

The Master collapsed.

Dead.

Lavena screamed.

She lunged at Everett and tore the sword from his hand.

Her claws ripped across his body again and again until he collapsed beside Charles.

Everett did not fight back.

He only smiled knowing he succeeded.

Moments later he stopped breathing.

Lavena fell beside Charles’s body, sobbing.

Days later the remaining Hollows abandoned the ruined house.

They traveled far north into a remote wilderness where mountains and endless forests hid them from the world.

There they found an ancient abandoned castle buried deep within the frozen hills.

It became their new home.

Charles’s body was placed in a sealed chamber within the castle.

Lavena stood beside it silently.

They would find a way to bring him back.

No matter how long it took.

Decades passed.

The war that Charles had started never truly ended, but it changed. The Hollows had retreated into the far northern mountains where the ancient abandoned castle became their hidden stronghold. There they waited in the shadows of the world, rebuilding their strength and planning for the day their Master would rise again.

Charles himself laid deep within the castle in a sealed chamber.

His body had been preserved in a strange frozen state, neither alive nor truly dead. Lavena had sworn that one day they would resurrect him, no matter how long it took.

Time continued to move forward.

Kings died.

New kings were crowned.

Eventually the son of the fallen king rose to power.

Lucie’s father became the new werewolf king.

He ruled fiercely and wisely, determined to protect his people from the horrors that had once nearly destroyed them.

Years passed peacefully.

Then the queen gave birth to three children.

Two sons.

And a daughter.

Six months after the birth of the youngest child, the Hollows returned.

Night had fallen over the castle.

Torches burned along the walls and guards patrolled the grounds, unaware of the darkness creeping toward them through the forest.

The Hollows moved like shadows.

Silent.

Deadly.

Within minutes the outer guards were gone.

The attack began.

They flooded into the castle courtyard with terrifying speed, cutting down soldiers before alarms could even be fully raised. Wolves shifted in every direction as the king’s warriors rushed to defend their home.

Claws collided.

Teeth tore through flesh.

The air filled with the sounds of battle.

Blood soaked the stone floors as the fighting spread deeper into the castle halls.

The wolves fought like demons protecting their home. Many Hollows fell beneath their claws, but the attackers kept coming.

Lavena moved through the chaos like a storm.

Then something slammed into her.

A massive black wolf lunged from the darkness and drove his teeth into her stomach with brutal force. The impact threw both of them across the floor.

Lavena screamed in fury.

Her claws plunged into the wolf’s side, ripping through flesh and muscle. Blood sprayed across the stone as the animal howled in pain but refused to release her.

The wolf’s golden eyes burned with rage.

He bit down harder.

Lavena drove her claws deeper into his body until his strength finally failed.

The wolf collapsed.

But he had bought enough time.

“STOP."

The command thundered through the hall.

The king stepped forward.

He was enormous even in human form, his presence filling the space like a storm ready to break. His eyes blazed with fury as he looked at the carnage around him.

Then his gaze locked onto Lavena.

Recognition flashed between them.

But there was no hesitation.

The king shifted instantly.

His body expanded, bones cracking as his white wolf form exploded into existence. His fur shone like moonlit snow and his eyes burned with pure fury.

He did not ask questions.

He attacked.

The impact of his charge sent Lavena crashing through a stone pillar. She barely had time to recover before the king struck again, his claws tearing deep into her shoulder.

Lavena hissed and countered with a vicious slash across his side.

The king barely slowed.

He slammed into her again, driving her across the floor with raw brute strength.

Their fight was brutal.

Savage.

Neither of them held back.

Lavena managed to rake her claws across the king’s chest, drawing deep lines of blood. But the king answered with a strike that shattered the stone floor beneath her.

Over the sounds of battle something else could suddenly be heard.

Crying.

Babies.

Lavena’s grin returned instantly.

“Get them, Blade,"she called with a cruel laugh.

Blade nodded once.

Then he ran.

Inside the royal chambers the queen stood between the attackers and her children.

She had not fully recovered from giving birth only months earlier, but she still fought with everything she had.

Blade entered the room like a nightmare.

The queen attacked immediately.

She struck with desperate strength, claws flashing as she tried to protect the small cribs behind her.

Blade dodged the first strike and slammed his fist into her stomach with crushing force.

The queen staggered but did not fall.

She fought again.

And again.

But she was exhausted.

Blade caught her arm and twisted violently before slashing across her body with his claws.

Blood spilled across the floor.

Behind her the babies cried louder.

The queen turned toward the cribs.

“Estelle,"she whispered desperately.“Protect her."

The air shimmered.

A soft golden light appeared beside the smallest cradle.

A figure formed from pure glowing light, delicate and radiant like an angel descending from heaven.

Estelle.

Her long golden hair flowed around her shoulders like liquid, but her body shone with warm golden light. Without hesitation she knelt beside the crib and wrapped her luminous form around the baby girl, shielding her completely.

Blade watched with mild curiosity.

But first he turned toward the other cribs.

The two older boys cried loudly as he approached.

Blade did not hesitate.

His claws flashed and the cries ended.

Silence fell over the room.

Blood spread slowly across the floor.

Then Blade approached the final cradle.

The baby girl lay there quietly.

She did not cry.

She simply looked at him.

Her eyes were wide with curiosity.

Her small face framed by soft black hair, the same deep, rich colour as her mother’s.

Blade tilted his head slightly.

Then he smirked.

“I’ll spare you for now, little wolf,"he murmured quietly.

“But one day we’ll come for you."

Behind him the queen tried to crawl toward the crib.

Blade turned and punched her brutally in the stomach before driving his claws through her body. Blood poured across the floor as he lifted her limp form and threw her over his shoulder.

Then he walked out of the room.

In the hall the king staggered.

Blood poured from deep wounds across his body.

Through blurred vision he saw Blade emerge from the chamber.

For a moment the king did not understand what he was seeing.

Then his heart stopped.

Blade was carrying someone.

His mate.

His wife.

His queen.

Her body hung limp over the Hollow’s shoulder, her long dark hair sticky with blood as it spilled down Blade’s back. Her arms dangled lifelessly, swaying slightly with every step he took.

The king felt something inside his chest tear open.

Something deeper than flesh.

Something that would never heal.

Blade stopped a few steps in front of him.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Then he dropped something onto the stone floor.

Two small bodies.

They rolled across the cold stone until they came to rest against the king’s knees.

For a moment the world went completely silent.

The king stared down at them.

His sons.

His little boys.

Their tiny bodies were still, lifeless.

So terribly still.

“No..."

The word barely left his mouth.

Then the sound that followed tore through the castle like something broken inside a dying animal.

“NO!"

The king collapsed beside them, his hands shaking violently as he pulled the small bodies into his arms.

“They’re just babies!"he screamed hoarsely.

His voice cracked under the weight of his grief.

“Little pups! They’re only little pups!"

Tears streamed down his face as he pressed their small bodies against his chest, rocking slightly back and forth like a man whose mind had shattered.

“How could you do this?"he choked.

His voice rose into a furious, broken roar.

“You coward! Do you hear me?!"

He looked up at Blade with wild, burning eyes.

“YOU ARE A COWARD! KILLING INNOCENT PUPS!"

His claws scraped helplessly across the stone as grief and rage fought inside him.

“Why?!"he gasped.

“My sons... my sons..."

His body trembled violently as he cradled them, pressing his forehead against their tiny heads.

Everything he loved had just been ripped from him.

Everything.

The king forced himself to stand.

Blood poured from the deep wounds across his body, but he ignored the pain completely. His eyes were fixed only on one thing.

His mate.

“My queen,"he whispered hoarsely.

He staggered toward Blade, every step fuelled by desperation.

“Give her back!"

Blade only watched him with amused curiosity.

The king lunged forward.

He barely made it two steps before Blade casually lifted one leg and kicked him square in the chest.

The impact sent the king crashing backward across the stone floor. His wounded body slammed into the wall as the last strength left him.

Blade laughed.

The sound was low.

Cruel.

Almost bored.

“You really thought you could stop us?"he said, looking down at him.

The word king left his mouth like poison.

“Don’t worry, king."

Blade shifted the queen slightly on his shoulder as though she weighed nothing.

“We’ll be back one day."

The king tried to rise again, dragging himself across the stone toward them, his fingers leaving streaks of blood behind him.

“Please..."he whispered hoarsely.

“Please..."

Blade smirked.

“Get some sleep, old man."

Then he turned and walked away.

The remaining Hollows followed him into the darkness.

The king laid on the cold stone floor, surrounded by blood, clutching the lifeless bodies of his sons as the sound of his broken cries echoed through the empty halls.

The battle was over.

One of the surviving guards staggered forward and fired a final arrow.

The poisoned tip struck Lavena directly in the neck.

She gasped.

Her body collapsed onto the stone floor.

The poison worked instantly.

Lavena died where she stood.

The Hollows dragged her body with them as they fled into the mountains.

The king could barely move.

His vision blurred as the world faded around him.

But before darkness claimed him completely he forced himself to speak.

“Check... the baby..."