The blood moon loomed like a wound in the sky, its crimson light soaking the courtyard of Magnus Varik's estate in a hue that made every shadow seem alive. The air reeked of iron and death, the stones littered with the broken bodies of werewolves and men, their blood mingling in dark pools that reflected the moon's glare. Magnus stood at the center, his massive, fur-covered form trembling with the effort to hold the beast at bay. His claws twitched, itching to tear into something—anything—to sate the gnawing hunger that pulsed through him. Isabella's parting words echoed in his mind, each syllable a splinter driven deeper: "The blood moon doesn't lie, Magnus. It calls us all."He could still feel her presence, a lingering scent of frost and decay that clung to the night, though she had vanished into the forest beyond the estate's walls. The beast within him roared to give chase, to hunt her down and rip the truth from her throat, but Magnus clung to the fraying threads of his humanity. He was no animal—not yet. He was lord of Eryndor, commander of men, and he would not let this curse reduce him to a mindless predator.A low groan broke his focus. One of his guards, half-buried under a fallen werewolf, stirred weakly, his armor dented and slick with gore. Magnus's golden eyes snapped to the man, and for a fleeting moment, the beast saw prey—soft flesh, warm blood, an easy kill. He snarled, shaking his head violently, forcing the thought away. With a clawed hand, he shoved the werewolf's corpse aside and knelt beside the guard, his movements careful, deliberate, fighting the urge to crush what he meant to save."Hold on," Magnus growled, his voice a guttural rasp, barely human. The guard's eyes widened in terror, not at the pain but at the sight of his lord—hulking, fanged, a monster in the moonlight. Magnus ignored the fear, tearing a strip of cloth from a nearby body to bind the man's wounds. "You're not dying tonight."The guard nodded faintly, too weak to speak, but his gaze never left Magnus's face, as if searching for the man beneath the beast. Magnus stood, his breath heaving, and turned toward the estate. The surviving guards had begun to regroup, their faces pale, their weapons trembling in their hands. They stared at him, not as their lord but as something to be feared, something that belonged in the horror stories told to frighten children."Magnus!" Jakob's voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent. The advisor emerged from the estate's shattered doorway, his sword bloodied, his face etched with exhaustion. He stopped short when he saw Magnus's form, his grip tightening on the hilt, but he didn't raise the blade. "We've secured the gates, but the men… they're shaken. They saw what you became."Magnus's lips curled, baring fangs he couldn't yet retract. "Good," he said, his voice low, menacing. "Let them fear me. Fear keeps them alive."Jakob's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He knew better than to challenge Magnus now, not when the air still crackled with the aftermath of slaughter. "There's something else," he said, glancing toward the forest. "The scout—Gavrin—he's gone mad. Keeps muttering about a 'pack' coming, about eyes in the trees. I've locked him in the cells, but he's clawing at himself, screaming about the moon."Magnus's gaze flicked to the forest, where the trees swayed in a wind he couldn't feel. The howl from earlier still lingered in his bones, a call that stirred something deep within him—a longing he refused to name. "Show me," he said, his voice colder now, more controlled, though the beast's hunger pulsed beneath every word.They descended into the estate's underbelly, past the cold stone corridors to the cells carved deep into the earth. The air grew damp, heavy with the scent of mold and despair. Gavrin's screams echoed long before they reached him, a raw, animalistic sound that made Magnus's fur bristle. The cell door was iron, reinforced with runes that glowed faintly—wards against dark magic, though they seemed to flicker, as if struggling against the curse's presence.Inside, Gavrin writhed on the floor, his nails bloody from tearing at his own skin. His eyes, once sharp with a scout's clarity, were wild, darting as if seeing things beyond the cell's walls. Claw marks crisscrossed his arms, deep and ragged, as if he were trying to rip something out of himself. "It's in me!" he shrieked, his voice breaking. "The moon—it sees me! It knows!"Magnus crouched before the bars, his shadow falling over Gavrin like a storm cloud. "What do you see?" he demanded, his voice a low growl that silenced the scout's screams for a moment. "Tell me, or I'll drag it out of you."Gavrin's head snapped up, his gaze locking onto Magnus's glowing eyes. For an instant, there was clarity, a flicker of the man he'd been. "They're coming," he whispered, his voice hoarse, trembling. "Not just wolves—hundreds. Thousands. Eyes like hers, burning in the dark. They serve the moon, Magnus. They serve her.""Her?" Magnus's claws scraped the stone floor, the beast stirring at the mention. "Isabella?"Gavrin laughed, a broken, hollow sound that chilled even Magnus's blood. "Not just her. The Mother. The one who birthed the curse. She's waking, and we're all her children." His laughter turned to a scream as he lunged at the bars, his hands clawing toward Magnus, nails splitting as they scraped iron. "You can't stop it! It's in you too!"Magnus stood, his heart pounding, not with fear but with a sickening recognition. The Mother. The First Beast. The pieces were falling together, each one heavier than the last. He turned to Jakob, who stood rigid, his face pale as death. "Sedate him," Magnus ordered. "Keep him alive. He knows more than he's saying."Jakob nodded, but his eyes lingered on Magnus, searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or proof that his lord was still human. Magnus offered neither. He strode from the cells, the beast's instincts screaming to run, to hunt, to find Isabella before Gavrin's ravings became reality. The curse wasn't just in him—it was spreading, a plague that could swallow Eryndor whole.Back in the courtyard, the moon seemed larger, closer, its light pressing against his skin like a physical weight. Magnus paused, his breath visible in the cold air, each exhale a battle to keep the beast caged. He could feel it clawing at his mind, whispering promises of strength, of freedom, of a world where he could rule as both man and monster. But he remembered the Citadel, the chained creature's warning: "You bear the stain of the First Flame. You are cursed." The curse wasn't just power—it was a chain, binding him to a fate he hadn't chosen.A faint rustle came from the forest, too deliberate to be the wind. Magnus's head snapped toward it, his senses sharpening until he could hear the snap of a twig, the heartbeat of something—or someone—lurking beyond the trees. The beast growled, eager, but Magnus held it back, his human mind calculating. Isabella hadn't attacked with the others. She'd watched, waited, and now she was out there, drawing him into her game."Jakob," Magnus called, not turning from the forest. The advisor appeared at his side, silent but ready. "Gather the Brotherhood of Flame. Arm them with silver. We're not waiting for her to come to us.""My lord," Jakob said, his voice low, cautious. "You're… not yourself. If you go out there now—"Magnus rounded on him, his fangs bared, his voice a snarl that shook the air. "I am exactly what I need to be." The words were a lie, and they both knew it, but Jakob stepped back, bowing his head in submission.As Jakob moved to rally the men, Magnus stared into the forest, his claws flexing, the beast's hunger blending with his own resolve. Isabella was out there, and with her, answers—about the curse, about the Mother, about the war that threatened to consume everything he'd built. The blood moon watched, its light a crimson veil that promised no mercy, only truth.Magnus took a step toward the trees, then another, the beast and the man moving as one. The hunt had begun, and whatever waited in the darkness would face the full wrath of Magnus Varik—lord, warrior, and monster.
