Last Night

…

“Henre!” my wife called from the kitchen, her voice cutting through the soft evening air. Dinner was ready, and the rich aroma of her roast venison wafted through the house. I stood by the window, watching as the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the home. Dusk had settled in, cloaking everything in a tranquil embrace, almost too serene considering what lay ahead. In just a few hours, the ominous Blood Moon would rise, and we would barricade ourselves inside our cozy little home, but for now, I wanted to savor these peaceful moments with my family.

“Daddy!” My daughter Koko's cheerful voice broke through my thoughts as she rushed towards me, her small arms wrapping around my leg like a little vine clinging to its support.

“Whoa!” I chuckled, my heart swelling with love as I knelt down to her level. I enveloped her in a warm hug, taking in her sweet, youthful scent mixed with the faint hint of the grass she must’ve been playing in outside. Her eyes sparkled with a bright curiosity. I couldn’t help but feel that she was the reason I persevered through the darkness that sometimes threatened to creep in.

“Are you hungry, little one?” I asked, giving her head a gentle pat. She nodded enthusiastically, her smile wide enough to light up the room.

Scooping her up into my arms, I kissed her cheek as she giggled, her laughter filling the air with joy.

“Let’s go find your mother,” I said, as her little hands playfully grabbed at my shirt. With the smell of dinner guiding us, we made our way to the kitchen, ready to share a meal and the warmth of family before the night ahead.

The three of us gathered around our kitchen table, which was set with the kind of meticulousness only Cheyenne could achieve. The soft glow of the candles flickered, casting warm shadows on the walls, while the faint scent of herbs lingered in the air. We clasped hands, a familiar ritual before diving into the meal, as Cheyenne began, her voice warm and inviting.

“Thank you always for this wonderful meal. And thank you for blessing us with a happy, healthy family,” she said, her smile radiating joy, the little lines around her eyes deepening, only adding to her charm.

“Thank you, Cheyenne,” I replied, letting go of her hand as I picked up my fork, eager to dive into the feast before us. I speared a piece of the venison and brought it to my mouth. As I chewed, my tongue disregarded the meat. My taste buds couldn’t taste anything; the savory richness that no doubt blessed my wife and daughter was absent for me. I chewed thoughtfully, but it felt like dining in a dream—everything looked amazing, but the taste was just out of reach.

“How is it?” Cheyenne asked, her eyebrows raised in hopeful expectation.

“Amazing,” I replied with a smile, forcing myself to take another bite, hoping to mask my true experience.

Meanwhile, Koko was a whirlwind of energy, her small hands greedily shoveling the tender chunks my wife had prepared for her, a grin stretched wide across her face.

“Eat your vegetables too,” Cheyenne chimed in playfully. “You need to grow big and strong, like your father and me.”

Koko scrunched up her nose in response, the thought of greens clearly not appealing to her at that moment. As I watched her, a wave of affection washed over me. I breathed in deeply, taking in the laughter and warmth that filled the room. I loved them fiercely, more than I ever thought was possible for someone like me. Despite the emptiness in my mouth, and the pangs of hunger in my stomach, my heart felt full, and for a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, I truly could belong here.

The rest of the evening unfolded like a surreal dream, a perfect tableau from some idyllic storybook. Cheyenne and I gently placed Koko in her bed, watching her tiny form submerged in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, breathing peacefully in her slumber. With tender care, we boarded the windows and double-locked the back door, a ritual that felt both protective and ominous.

Cheyenne leaned against me, her body a comforting weight, as we stood together at the threshold of our home, staring out into the encroaching darkness. The red moon had just risen, casting an eerie, crimson light that bled into the shadows.

“How long do you think it will last?” she murmured, burying her head into my chest as if seeking solace from the unseen threats lurking outside.

“I’m not sure,” I replied softly, drawing her closer. “Hopefully we’re through the worst of it.”

I offered her a reassuring smile before leaning down to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, savoring the tender moment suspended in time. My fingers brushed her hair, feeling the warmth of her skin and the unsettling guilt that crept in each time our lips met—a reminder of the danger that loomed over us.

“I’ll lock up here,” I said, attempting to inject a normalcy into the surreal atmosphere as I released her from our embrace. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Her smile danced with warmth, yet urgency edged her words. “Don’t take too long.”

As she turned towards the stairs, I let out a deep breath, watching her silhouette drift away, swallowed by the safety of familiarity.

Once she disappeared from view, I scanned the space around me, a protective instinct bubbling up within. I raised my hands and closed my eyes, summoning the words etched in my memory.

“Obscurum pallium,” I whispered into the silence. A shroud of dark energy enveloped us, wrapping the house in an added layer of protection against the threats that the Blood Moon might usher in. When I opened my eyes, the world felt slightly altered, and as I gazed into the dimness, something flickered at the edge of my perception. A sudden movement caught my eye—like a child in a game of hide and seek, a shadow flitted just beyond my vision.

Curiosity piqued, I stepped tentatively into the night air, the coolness biting at my skin as I shut the door behind me. Heart racing, I squinted into the inky blackness of the trees that reached for the sky with skeletal fingers. There was no mistaking it; something was rustling within the woods, a subtle disturbance that shattered the stillness.

“Show yourself,” I whispered into the void, but the night swallowed my words, offering nothing but chilling silence in return.

As I cautiously approached the treeline, leaving the warmth of home behind, the darkness felt alive—breathing, waiting. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of something immense within the shadows, and a thrill of terror gripped my throat. The creature emerged, its long, emaciated legs propelling it forward with a haunting grace, skin sagging like tattered fabric across its gaunt figure, while long strands of black hair cascaded around its face, obscuring its features.

“You have come to the wrong house, beast,” I asserted, my voice hoarse yet unyielding, as my heart thudded like a war drum in my chest.

The creature’s laughter echoed, an unsettling sound that slipped through the trees like a whisper of dread. “I’m exactly where I wish to be,” it hissed, its dark, grating voice sending a shiver down my spine. “You are an abomination.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, fixing my gaze on it, trying to keep it within my sights as it darted around me, a predatory dance that encircled my senses.

Without warning, the creature lunged, its movements a blur. The impact was instantaneous—a searing pain surged through me as I was sent crashing against a tree. Darkness overwhelmed my vision in an instant, but instead of slipping into unconsciousness, I was thrust back through time to that fateful day I first laid eyes on Cheyenne and Koko, the echoes of our fragile reality twisting into something unspeakable.

It was a dark, rainy night several months ago when I first laid eyes on that small house, my focus sharpening as hunger clawed at my insides. Inside, I could see a man, Henre. The oppressive darkness shrouded the room, allowing me to creep inside through the window unnoticed. The faint flicker of light illuminated him in the living room. He sat there, oblivious, gently sipping from his glass, which glinted in the dim light. My instincts took over and I struck, my claws sinking deep as I tore at his flesh with my razor-sharp teeth. The indulgence was overwhelming, a savage ecstasy I had never experienced before—nor had I ever felt so reckless.

But that pleasure was abruptly interrupted by a small, trembling voice that shattered the stillness.

“Daddy?” a child cried from the staircase, her innocent voice piercing through the haze of my hunger.

I looked down at the bloody remnants of Henre sprawled out before me, his warm life now draining away into a chilling stillness, and then up at the little girl who longed for her father's embrace. In an instant, guilt washed over me like a cold wave; I needed to pretend. With a surge of desperation, I shifted, transforming myself into Henre, just as he had been moments before my savage attack.

I rushed toward the staircase, and Koko ran into my arms, the warmth of her tiny body almost too much to bear.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You were just having a nightmare,” I assured her, forcing a calmness I didn't feel.

She returned to bed, still wrapped in a cocoon of innocence, and I was left deep in the shadows of my guilt. I disposed of the body with trembling hands and vanished into the night, but for the next several weeks, I watched them. Unknown to them, I observed their struggle; the absence of Henre—a father, a husband—tore at the threads of their little family. Koko went about her days, her laughter tinged with a haunting sadness that echoed in my heart.

A longing stirred within me as I considered the warmth I yearned to feel again. After much deliberation, I made the decision to take Henre's form once more. With trepidation, I walked through the front door, the doorknob cold against my skin.

Cheyenne glanced at me, disbelief coloring her features before she delivered a sharp slap across my face. The sting was sudden and shocking; my instincts flared in response.

“How could you just disappear like that?” she choked out, her voice thick with emotion.

Before I could muster a reply, she pulled me close and kissed me fiercely, wrapping her arms around me as if I were the only thing holding her together. The intoxicating mixture of love and grief surged through me—a feeling unlike any I had ever known.

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she murmured, “You’re back. I thought I had lost you forever.”

Though she held me, it was not for me, but for the man I had become—a man that no longer existed. I settled into the facade, convincing myself I could earn their affection, attributing my absence and lack of memories to a cruel twist of fate.

Cheyenne forgave me, showering me with warmth, while Koko treated me like the greatest hero come to save her. We played games, shared laughter, and I felt a bizarre happiness enveloping us. Yet deep down, a gnawing realization haunted my every moment: this happiness was built on a foundation of lies, and I knew it couldn’t last.

I came to, my head ringing from the violent impact with the tree. Lying sprawled on my back, I fought to sit up but caught a glimpse of my body—a chilling sight. I had lost Henre’s form, reverting unintentionally to my cold, gray exterior.

The ground trembled as the creature drew near, looming over me with a predatory glare.

“You are an abomination,” she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. “Shapeshifter, deceiver, Skinwalker.”

Desperate to rise, I strained against my body, but it felt unresponsive, weighed down by a heavy dread.

“How will they react,” she continued, tilting her head as if savoring the torment, “when they realize you murdered him?”

Images flashed in my mind—the horror on my family's faces, the disgust and fear if they ever discovered my true self and the sins I had committed. They would despise me, and the thought clawed at my very soul.

“We were not meant to live among humans,” she said, her voice softening to a sinister melody, like a cool breeze before a storm. “Join me.”

Leaning closer, she whispered, “Become one with me.”

Her gnarled finger touched the center of my chest, and in an instant of haunting bliss, I envisioned my family—Cheyenne and Koko—smiling at me, arms wide open. I looked down at myself; yes, I was still in my true form, yet their love enveloped me like a shield against the darkness threatening to consume my mind.

“You can stay with them forever,” the creature urged, her voice slicing through my fantasy. “I will make it so you won’t even be able to tell the difference. They will accept you for who you are and will shower you with their love endlessly.”

I blinked through the illusion, staring up into the creature’s maw, which split hungrily, revealing rows of sharp teeth, glistening in anticipation.

It was lying. If I let myself succumb to her allure, there would be no afterlife for me. I would be absorbed into the creature—ceasing to exist in any meaningful way—or worse, doomed to reside as a mere speck in its monstrous mind.

I closed my eyes, allowing the despair to wash over me. Perhaps this was what I truly deserved. I loved Cheyenne and Koko fiercely, but I had stolen their true love from them by living this lie. No amount of pretending could bring Henre back, and Cheyenne’s cooking, as mouthwatering as it was, would never satiate the hunger gnawing within me—an insatiable craving for human flesh. My presence in their lives was a danger, a curse. They deserved safety, and I was a dangerous epitome of the very threat I feared.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I made peace with my decision. They would survive without me; their happiness would remain untainted while I bore the weight of my true nature. Their love had blessed me in ways I could never have fathomed, yet I knew deep down that I was unworthy.

Suddenly I saw a flash of blinding light behind my closed eyelids, followed by an intense burning sensation in my chest. It felt as though I was being ripped apart, violently pulled forward and into the massive creature before me. Pain surged through me—not just my own, but from countless others, souls who had faced a similar fate. I felt our lives and essences intertwine as we were swallowed by the horrific beast.

Yet this creature was so much more than an ordinary monster. It was ancient—a being that had roamed endlessly for millennia, forever clawing out of its grave, seeking that which had been lost to it years ago: the love of its creator. In that moment, as I fused into its essence, I understood the tragic weight of existence, entwined with both horror and yearning, eternally searching for a bond that had long since faded.

The next day

Niles

I stared at the small purple vial resting between my fingers, reflecting the sunlight streaming through the dusty cracks of the shed. It was a gift from Professor Hawthorne, who had infused it with a protection spell, assuring us it would shield our minds from the Dark Matron's influence. I slowly held it up to the light, curious about its power. Tentatively, I reached out my finger, placing it just under the warm rays. A sharp burning sensation jolted through me as smoke wafted from my skin, forcing me to yank my finger back with a gasp.

“Great," Ella said, lounging languidly on the couch, her gaze glued to the ceiling. “We’re burning now.”

The effects of the deer we had consumed earlier had worn off quicker than expected, and with the unpredictable chaos triggered by the Blood Moon, Duncan, Ella, and I had been placed under house arrest, trapped in this rundown shed. Sure, we could easily disregard the rules and attempt to hunt on the grounds, but the surge of monster activity surrounding us had frightened away nearly all potential targets. It would probably take all night if we were to find something to eat.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Duncan let out a deep breath, stretching his arms overhead from his position on the floor. “What I wouldn’t give for a deer right about now.”

“I’d rather a person,” Ella retorted, her eyes fluttering closed, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.

I couldn’t shake off the image of Olivia from my mind. I wondered how true the creature in the woods' illusion was. Would her blood really be as tantalizing as the creature had made it seem? I had given in so easily to the creature’s influence, and the thought of being alone with Olivia in this state sent a shiver of dread down my spine. Yet, that very thought made it difficult to concentrate.

I pressed my hands to my forehead, feeling the weight of my thoughts.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ella prodded, her head turning to me, concern flashing in her eyes.

“Nothing,” I breathed out, forcing a smile. “Just cravings.”

“It’s not like you to brood,” Ella remarked, her expression turning sly. “Is this about the girl? The one in your class?”

Letting out a deep, resigned sigh, I slumped back into my chair, feeling the weight of my uncertainty.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Duncan said, sitting up. “We’ve all had someone special.”

“Olivia is definitely special,” I muttered, almost to myself, “but maybe not in the way you’re thinking.”

“If you want to bite her, you should just ask,” Ella suggested teasingly, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes. “She’d probably say yes.”

I scoffed, the idea striking me as absurd. It would likely get us kicked out of school, after all.

“Not a bad idea,” Duncan said, his expression thoughtful.

“It’s a horrible idea,” I retorted, lifting my hand defensively. “Plus, it would interfere with our plans. We’re not allowed to bite students.”

Ella leaned back against the couch with an exaggerated huff.

“Well…” Duncan said, a sly grin creeping onto his face, “as long as we don’t get caught.”

“Stop talking about biting people!” Ella exclaimed, clutching her stomach as hunger pangs made themselves known. “It’s making me hungry.”

“I’ll go out,” Duncan announced, a determined look on his face. “Tonight. I’ll get us something to eat.”

“You have as much self-control as a rabid dog. It’ll have to be me,” Ella shot back, a playful challenge in her tone.

“Yeah, but you suck at hunting.”

“Just both go,” I finally suggested, rubbing my temples in frustration. “I’ll gladly stay put here.”

“Alright,” Ella said, a wicked grin returning to her features. “We’ll bring you back something yummy.”

With that, the tension shifted slightly, but I could still feel the weight of my desires pulling me down into a spiral of helpless thoughts.

Volcan

I sat silently in my dimly lit office, the weight of the upcoming battle heavy on my chest. The clock ticked steadily, each second echoing the chilling thought that she was coming for me. The overwhelming sense of dread wrapped around me like a suffocating shroud, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight might indeed be my last.

Earlier in the day, I had spoken with the mermaids, their haunting tales offering little hope for the conflict ahead. I steeled my resolve, closing my eyes with a sigh, reminding myself of the stakes. I wouldn’t go down easily. I wouldn’t let her take me without a fight. I would do everything in my power to protect the students of this school.

Suddenly, a soft knock broke the silence.

"Come in," I said, steadying my voice.

The door creaked open, revealing Dex, his posture tense as he stepped into the room.

"Headmaster," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "Chloe and I confirmed the body of a Skinwalker. It happened last night."

I nodded, the news heavy in the air.

"That means there's only the werewolf, and then..." His voice trailed off, the implications hanging unspoken between us.

“Thank you, Dex,” I replied, standing up to dismiss him. “That will be all.”

He nodded again, his expression a mixture of concern and duty before retreating back through the door.

The room fell silent once more, and I turned to face the windows. The last rays of sunshine poured in, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the air, a fleeting reminder that light still existed. I found myself considering the darker path I could take to save myself. As Olivia had suggested, I could transfer the unwanted gift, much like Marcus had done with me.

A wave of resentment washed over me at the mere thought of it. Marcus had cursed me with this power, leaving me with this burden—but I remembered he had no one else to turn to. As an Elf, I had been more likely to host the power, yet it still rejected me. Olivia, however, seemed sufficient to embrace hers without issue. Was it simply the difference in the source of the power, or did Olivia possess something special within herself?

I cursed inwardly at the tumult of those thoughts. If I were to curse someone else to take my place, doomed to die at the hands of the Dark Matron, I would be no better than the monsters we fought against.

With a breath that filled my lungs with determination, I resolved that I would make my final stand. When death finally came to claim me, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Claire

I gently swung my legs over the edge of my bed, wincing slightly as I lowered myself to the ground.

“Okay, okay,” I breathed, carefully shifting my weight onto my uninjured leg. Luke had left not long after our conversation, leaving me alone with the photo of his family that he had entrusted to me. He had promised to return tonight, but my resolve to find him faltered for nothing. Whatever struggles he faced, I believed we could tackle them together.

Taking a deep breath, I began to hop towards the curtain, the soft fabric waving gently in the slight breeze. I pushed it aside to peer out, but leaning too far, I lost my balance and felt myself teetering dangerously close to falling on the floor.

“Woah!” a voice yelled just as unfamiliar hands reached out to catch me, steadying my fall.

I looked up, my heart racing as I met the gaze of my savior, my eyes wide with surprise.

“Bruce!” I exclaimed, utterly taken aback to see him here of all people. “What are you doing here?”

He steadied me, ensuring I was back on my feet as he studied my face with a brow furrowed in concern.

“I came to check on you,” he said, the seriousness of his tone making me feel as though I was being examined under a magnifying glass.

“Me?” I echoed, both flattered and confused. “Why?”

Bruce stared at me for a moment, his piercing blue eyes searching mine as if trying to decipher a mystery.

“I heard you had woken up,” he finally replied, his voice low.

“Did Lucas tell you?” I perked up, desperate to hear mention of my partner.

“The nurse,” Bruce said simply, like it was no big deal.

“Ah,” I sighed, feeling a mixture of disappointment and worry. He carefully led me back to my bed, helping me settle down as he took a seat beside me.

“Is he alright?” Bruce asked, his expression growing serious again. “I found him wandering last night, and he seemed pretty shaken up.”

“I really don’t know,” I admitted, my brow creasing with concern. “Normally, we can practically feel what each other is feeling, but right now, he seems so distant.”

I shut my eyes, remembering the inexplicable shift within him. “Since that moon rose. From the very moment it hung in the sky, I felt something change in him.”

Bruce looked at me curiously, a mix of sympathy and understanding evident in his gaze. He sat next to me on the bed, leaning slightly closer, encouraging me to share more.

“This is probably going to sound really strange…” I started, feeling a surge of vulnerability. “But I’ve always felt a connection to him.”

“That’s not strange at all,” he interjected, folding his arms thoughtfully. “Partners are supposed to feel a connection.”

I shook my head, trying to find the right words. “Not like that. It’s like a physical connection, as if there’s something binding us together. I feel an obligation to keep him safe, no matter the cost. Even when the Hellhound bit me, all I could think was, ‘keep Lucas safe.’”

Bruce inhaled deeply, an understanding look settling on his face. “I know exactly how you feel,” he said quietly. “I felt the same way. Before my partner… well, we were very close.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and his expression turned somber as he lowered his gaze. While Lucas felt distant to me, Bruce's partner was no longer here, and suddenly my own worries felt self-centered.

“Well,” Bruce said, breaking the tension, “we’d better go find him.” He stood up and extended his hand towards me.

With a smile, I took his hand, grateful for the support. He helped me off the bed, and as I regained my balance, I sensed an unexpected warmth radiating from him. Until now, I had only known Bruce as the strict leader of the second-year class, but during our conversation, that image began to peel away. I felt strangely seen and, for a change, comforted by talking to someone outside of my usual group of friends.

Olivia

Hector and I sat in the first-year lounge, ensconced in an unsettling silence. The golden hues of the sunset danced through the large windows, casting long shadows across the room. We were due back in our dorms in just a few minutes, but an inexplicable tension weighed heavy in the air.

Hector gripped his ax tightly, his knuckles pale under the fading light, while I rested Fundas Feram at my side, grappling with the skepticism that it would be any help if danger approached. I shut my eyes, fighting back the tide of despair. Despite everything, there was a flicker of hope left in me. She had spoken to me after all—wasn't that a good sign?

“Have you seen Luke or Claire?” Hector’s voice broke through my thoughts, suddenly turning his head in my direction.

I paused to think, my heart sinking. I hadn’t encountered either of them since my departure with Volcan, though I had heard murmurings that Claire had awakened.

“Not yet,” I admitted, a pang of anxiety twisting in my chest.

“They should have been back by now,” Hector muttered, his gaze fixed on the looming shadows of the hallway. He stood abruptly, the weight of worry compounding on his shoulders.

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” I reassured him, though I couldn’t shake the knot tightening in my stomach. “They know the curfew.”

“We have a few minutes,” Hector insisted, shouldering his axe with determined urgency. “I want to check the infirmary.”

I nodded and jumped to my feet, heart racing alongside his. As we made our way out the front door, he grasped my hand tightly. We jogged across the eerily empty school grounds, where only a few teachers lingered near the entrance, their hushed voices barely breaking the stillness. Most students were already tucked away in their dorms, a stark contrast to our escalating fears.

I glanced up at the moon, hanging like a guardian in the darkening sky. Its silver light offered a strange sense of comfort. Perhaps, I thought in delusion, the cycle would not repeat tonight.

The main building loomed ahead, just a short jog from where we stood. When we entered through the side door, an overwhelming darkness enveloped us, the eerily quiet halls sending shivers down my spine.

“Stay close,” Hector whispered as he tightened his grip on my hand. I squinted into the darkness, feeling the chill envelop us as we edged further into the building.

The bare halls seemed to stretch endlessly, cold against my skin, illuminated only by the flickering silver light of the moon filtering through the windows. We rounded the corner to the infirmary, where Hector pushed the door open. The empty room greeted us, an air of abandonment thick in the cold darkness.

“Great,” he sighed sarcastically, frustration evident in his tone.

I made my way toward Claire’s bed, pulling back the curtain only to find the space devoid of her presence. “Perhaps they went back to the dorm already,” I suggested, glancing over Claire’s belongings scattered in disarray around her bed.

My eyes fell upon a small photograph lying on the table beside her bed. “Julia, Marcus, and baby Lucas,” I read aloud, holding the photo up for closer inspection. A wave of nostalgia washed over me, but I couldn’t place the reason.

“Marcus?” I whispered, my breath hitching. I had heard the name before, but I couldn’t quite remember where.

I traced my finger along his face, a deep sense of familiarity rooted in my chest, though it was impossible. He had died when Luke was only five years old. Though I had spent most of my life alongside Luke, I had never met his parents.

Gently placing the photograph back down, I returned to Hector, whose expression mirrored my growing concern.

“We should head back,” he insisted, a sense of urgency in his tone. “It’s not—”

His words were cut short by an ominous wave of pressure that washed over us, a familiar shiver of dread igniting my instincts.

Hector cursed under his breath, frustration blooming in his eyes. It seemed searching for Claire and Luke was no longer an option.

Suddenly, a bone-chilling scream pierced through the air, reverberating like a bell against the walls of the school.

“What the hell?” Hector exclaimed, swiftly removing his ax from his back.

Instinctively, I stepped toward the door, ready to discover the source of the scream, but Hector grabbed my arm firmly.

“Someone might be in danger,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest. “We have to help.”

“It’s too dangerous, Olivia.” His voice was stern, eyes narrowed in determination as he held me tight. “I can't let you go.”

“Then come with me,” I insisted, resolving to protect not just ourselves but everyone trapped in this looming darkness.

He sighed deeply, weighing the gravity of the situation before reluctantly releasing his grip.

“Fine,” he relented, his voice quiet yet resolute. “We look. If whatever is out there is beyond our abilities, we head back immediately.”

I nodded firmly, adrenaline coursing through me as we stepped out the door, ready to face whatever awaited us in the darkness.

Lucas

“Mom,” I whispered, my voice barely breaking the heavy silence that enveloped the deserted school. Each echo of my footsteps seemed to be swallowed by the stillness, amplifying the eerie atmosphere around me. To pierce the darkness, I conjured a small, radiant ball of light, which flickered softly, illuminating the walls adorned with memories of laughter and learning. Outside, the red moon hung high in the sky, its haunting glow seeping through the windows, casting ominous shadows that danced along the corridor.

“Mom?” I called out, my voice rising slightly in pitch as I approached the grand auditorium. The ornate wooden doors loomed before me, intricately carved and imposing in their stature, even more so in this dim light. I pushed against them with all my weight, but they resisted my attempts, locked tight against my prying hands. Frustration washed over me as I tried again, my heart racing with the urgency of finding her, but the doors remained firmly shut.

Suddenly, a cool breeze swept through the corridor, tousling my hair and sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. It teased the edges of my senses, and then I heard it: a soft click. With a hesitant creak, the doors slowly beckoned open, revealing the vast, darkened space beyond. A smile broke across my face; despite the foreboding atmosphere, I could feel her presence, even if she hadn’t yet revealed herself. The feeling comforted me.

Stepping into the expansive auditorium felt like entering a different world. The dim lights above began to flicker to life, one by one, bathing the room in a soft, ghostly glow. Without the presence of my fellow students, the magnitude of the space enveloped me, making it feel almost hollow yet alive at the same time. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding as I crossed the aisles, feeling both excited and anxious.

“Mom?” My voice echoed again, this time resonating off the high walls, drawing me deeper into the room.

The wind swirled around me once more, a gentle but insistent force that seemed to guide me toward the stage. “Lucas,” a voice floated to me, soft and ethereal, yet undeniably familiar. It sent a jolt of recognition coursing through me.

“Come to me,” she whispered, her words wrapping around me like a warm embrace, igniting a flicker of hope and determination within this desolate space. I knew I had to follow, to seek her out amidst the shadows and the flickering lights.

Olivia

Hector and I ventured cautiously down the winding stone staircase, the distant screams echoing through the cracked walls of the abandoned school basement. The air grew colder and heavier as we descended, the dim light above flickering weakly, barely illuminating our path. Stories of the basement being a long-forgotten prison haunted my mind as I clutched tightly to Hector's arm, my heart pounding with every agonizing scream that pierced the oppressive silence.

"I can’t see anything," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, my unease palpable as I leaned closer to Hector.

"I got you," he replied, his reassuring grip leading us deeper into the shadows. Each scream sent chills racing down my spine; whoever was in pain was experiencing something unimaginable.

As we reached the bottom, a flickering light caught my eye.

“There,” Hector said, pointing forward.

We approached a large wooden door, its surface worn and splintered, giving it an ancient, almost sinister feel.

Hector pushed the door open slowly, the resounding crack echoing ominously in the cavernous room beyond. I followed him inside, and what we saw left me breathless. The chamber stretched out before us, vast and empty, save for a solitary metal cage at its center. My heart sank as I realized the source of the tormented screams. Inside the cage curled a little girl, no older than ten, her black curly hair shadowing her tear-streaked face, golden brown skin marred by the blood dripping from her fingers where long black claws were beginning to form.

“She’s...” I stammered, choking on my words as a feeling of dread washed over me.

“A Werewolf,” Hector completed, his confusion palpable as he took a step closer, eyes fixed on the girl.

In that moment, a sharp clang interrupted our stunned silence—a sword was pressed menacingly to Hector’s throat.

“Stand back,” a deep voice commanded. I turned, startled, to see an Elf emerging from the shadows, cloaked in an aura of darkness.

“Dex!” I gasped, disbelief flooding through me as the weight of his sudden appearance registered.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” he demanded, anger etched across his features.

“We were looking for Luke and Claire,” I explained, my voice trembling. “We followed the screams...”

Dex’s expression hardened, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he lowered his weapon slightly. My gaze drifted back to the girl in the cage, and Hector seemed transfixed, oblivious to the tension in the room. I spotted Chloe sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby, channeling a faint glow as she tried to calm the girl, but her efforts only resulted in more frantic screams.

“You two shouldn’t be here,” Dex insisted, a grim warning lacing his tone.

“Why is there a Werewolf on school grounds?” I questioned, my voice quaking.

He shook his head, the weight of unspoken truths heavy in his silence.

“You’re protecting her,” Hector suddenly interjected, realization dawning in his eyes. “The Dark Matron needs a Werewolf, and you think she’ll take her.”

Dex stared at him, momentarily taken aback by the clarity of Hector's understanding. My gaze shifted between Hector and the frightened girl. A fleeting thought passed through my mind. It was just a whisper in the back of my brain, but in that moment, staring at the two of them, I couldn’t help but see the resemblance.

“At last,” a dark voice slithered through the air, cold and drenching the room in dread, its whispers echoing from the staircase behind me. A deep, savage cackle sliced through the tension, and all eyes turned toward the ominous blackness of the open door.

A pale arm, elongated and grotesque, crept into the room, followed by another just as horrifying. The creature that emerged was a twisted abomination, its body enveloped in skin that seemed too tight for its frame in some places and sagged grotesquely in others. Its eyes were as black as the void, and its mouth twisted into a malicious grin, drool pooling as it dripped from rows of razor-sharp teeth. It was unmistakably her: The Dark Matron.

A magnetic pull tugged at me, stronger than anything I had ever felt before—a familiar connection that set my heart racing. She fixed her gaze upon me, tilting her head in an uncanny motion, the gargled words spilling from her throat sending chills racing down my spine.

“It’s been a long time,” she rasped, a sinister hiss enveloping her words. “It’s nice to see you again, Ambrose.”