Osric found himself in the midst of an internal storm, unable to accept failure. The mission to capture and execute Roland had been entrusted to him from the highest echelons, an origin shrouded in mystery and power. For him, failure was not an option, and he had known that from the moment he received the order.
As the leader of the troll hunters, Osric, like all those who had preceded him, had undergone a special rite: communion with his true leader in the spiritual world. Normally, contact with that entity was limited to the first initiation, a unique moment that sealed the pact of loyalty between the hunter and the darkest forces of the church. However, Osric had been an exception. That presence had communicated with him again, directly, something almost unheard of.
The voice had been clear and unequivocal: Roland must die before the Blood Moon. He did not know the details of why, but he understood that the date held profound significance. In the spiritual world, dates were not arbitrary. The energies that flowed there responded to invisible rhythms and cycles, and Osric had no doubt that his superiors knew the secrets he did not comprehend. But his mission was clear: kill Roland before dawn.
Seeing that his prey had escaped, the feeling of defeat overtook him, a bitter reminder of his failure. He could not afford that luxury. He had come too far, and the cost of failing was not just his life, but his soul.
Osric locked himself in his study, in front of the fire, his mind spiraling into a dark vortex of self-criticism and rage. He knew what he had to do: communicate once more with his leader in the spiritual world. But he feared the consequences. The two previous experiences had been terrifying, a blend of chaos and confusion that left him exhausted and filled with dread. This time would be worse.
Sitting in an old oak chair, Osric began the ritual. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing his consciousness to slide out of his physical body. He felt his mind crossing the threshold between the two worlds, but this time, instead of the familiar transition, he was met by a furious storm.
His body felt as if it were being torn apart from within as an invisible wind pushed him toward the void. The pain was unbearable. For a moment, Osric thought he would not survive this encounter. However, after what seemed like an eternity, the chaos calmed, and there, amidst the shadows, was his leader.
The figure before him was indistinct, shrouded in darkness. But the power it radiated left no doubt. This entity was not of this world.
Osric tried to speak, his voice trembling and filled with fear. "My... my lord. I "
But he was interrupted by the cold silence that loomed over him. He felt his heart racing faster and faster, a crushing pressure enveloping him, as if every breath was being stolen from his chest. Finally, his leader's voice broke the silence, each word piercing his soul like a knife.
"You will not fail again." The voice was calm yet penetrating. "You have until nightfall."
Osric barely had time to process the words when, suddenly, he was thrown back into the physical world. He awoke gasping, sweating, and breathing heavily, as if he had been on the brink of drowning. But his torment was not over. As soon as he opened his eyes, an indescribable pain coursed through his body.
Every part of him burned, as if his flesh were being devoured from within. He screamed, unable to contain the suffering that consumed him. His skin seemed to crack and twist, as his hands transformed into sharp claws, and his muscles grotesquely swelled, gaining monstrous strength. His legs developed such powerful musculature that they rivaled those of a warhorse, and his torso grew to the size of a wild beast. Only his head remained human, though his eyes were now two wells of total darkness, devoid of any light or humanity.
Osric rose unsteadily and looked at himself in a nearby mirror. What he saw left him in awe. His body had been transformed into a machine of destruction. He reveled in his new form, observing with fascination every claw, every muscle. The power was palpable. He was stronger, faster, and with that power, he knew he would be unstoppable.
With a twisted smile, he murmured to himself, "I will hunt Roland down, and I will tear his head off. My lord will know he can trust me."
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When Osric stepped out of his study, his men looked at him in horror. The monstrosity he had become was a terrifying sight, but they did not hesitate. For them, this transformation was not a punishment but a sign that Osric had been touched by divine spirits. The leader of the troll hunters had been blessed with the power necessary to carry out his mission. Their faith in him was unshakable.
"We are leaving!" roared Osric, his voice deeper and more guttural than before. "Today, we will hunt Roland, and failing is not an option."
Under the terrifying gaze of their leader, Osric's men set out. They were terrified but also inspired by the presence of what they believed to be a warrior blessed with the power of the gods. They headed into the forest, ready for the final hunt. Roland and Brynja would have no escape.
Osric, in his new form, led the march with renewed determination. Today, the hunt would end. And he would finally prove his loyalty and power to his leader in the spiritual world.
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As the first rays of sunlight pierced the forest canopy, Brynja felt an immediate change in her body. Her energy, so powerful and natural under the cloak of night, began to fade. Trolls and sunlight were not good companions; prolonged exposure not only weakened their abilities but, under the scorching sun, could even endanger their lives.
With dawn came a new worry. Brynja and Roland, who had escaped swiftly during the darkness, now moved more slowly. They had to choose their path carefully, always seeking the protection that the shadows of the trees offered them. Despite her connection to the animals of the forest, Brynja knew she could not ask for their help in the intense daylight. The animals did not understand the danger that light posed to her, and running through the clearing was an invitation to disaster.
Every step they took felt like a struggle against time. The night of the Blood Moon was approaching inexorably, and if they did not reach the refuge in time, Brynja would not be able to avoid transforming into the beast that the curse forced her to be. The place they had prepared for their confinement was several hours away, and although they believed it was still possible to arrive, they knew the risks were high. Time was not on their side.
But the light was not their only problem.
As they moved through the forest, both began to hear the unmistakable sound of hooves striking the ground. Osric and his hunters were near. Brynja's muscles tensed at the sound of the approaching horses, and Roland, ever alert, knew immediately that they needed to find a hiding spot.
"This way," whispered Roland, pointing to a small cave hidden among the underbrush and rocks.
They hurried into the cave, hoping that the group of hunters would pass by. The cave was small, barely enough to conceal them, and her heart raced as they listened to the echo of the hooves getting closer and closer. Brynja held her breath, her eyes fixed on the cave entrance. She knew that the troll hunters would not give up easily.
The noise of the horses stopped.
Roland exchanged a quick glance with Brynja, his face pale but determined. They knew they could not stay there for long. The hunters were close, too close.
"I will distract them," whispered Roland, determined. "If I can lead them away long enough, you'll be able to reach the refuge in time."
"No, Roland. I'm not going to let you do that," Brynja replied, her eyes shining with a mix of fear and love. The thought of separating from Roland, knowing the danger he would face, filled her with terror.
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"Listen," said Roland, taking Brynja's hands in his. "There is no other option. If we stay here, they will find us both, and we won’t make it in time to avoid the transformation. Let me do this. If I can distract them, it will give you the time you need."
Brynja looked at Roland for a long moment, wanting to protest, wanting to refuse to leave him alone. But the truth was undeniable: Roland was right. They could not face Osric and his men and expect to survive. She had to reach the refuge before the Blood Moon. With a heavy heart, she slowly nodded.
"I will find you afterwards," she said in a whisper, tears threatening to surface. "This is not goodbye."
"I know," Roland replied, forcing a smile that barely concealed his own fear. "This is just part of the plan."
Brynja called to a deer that had been grazing nearby. Silently, she asked it to carry Roland as far away from the hunters as possible. The deer, understanding its mission, bent slightly as Roland mounted its back.
Before departing, Brynja and Roland shared one last kiss, a moment filled with uncertainty and hope. They knew danger surrounded them, but in that brief instant, there was only the two of them. They hoped it would not be the last time.
As Roland began to ride the deer, the sound of the hunters intensified again. Osric and his group quickly picked up on the noise of the animal's hooves, and without hesitation, they began the chase. Roland and the deer disappeared among the trees, with the hunters following, their shouts and the thunder of horses echoing through the forest.
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After a few minutes, the sound of the hunters faded, and Brynja allowed herself to breathe again. The plan had worked... to a certain extent. However, something did not feel right. She sensed a disturbance in the air, as if something dark was still watching her.
It was then that she knew. Osric had not left with the rest of the hunters. His presence, invisible yet heavy, was still close. Brynja looked around, trying to locate the danger. The momentary calm in the forest was just an illusion. Osric, now transformed into something more than human, was still on her trail.
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Brynja reached the entrance of the cave a few minutes before the sun disappeared completely. Every step she had taken towards this refuge had been a battle, but finally, she was safe... or so she thought. Through the shadows, she could make out a human figure waiting for her in the dim light. Her eyes, filled with exhaustion and relief, soon lit up upon recognizing him.
"Roland, my love..." she began to say, but her words faded into the air. The expression on Roland's face was not what she expected. Instead of the warmth he usually offered, his face was masked by terror. He pleaded with his eyes for her to flee.
Before Brynja could react, she felt an overwhelming force grab her from behind. Osric, with his monstrous strength and speed, had captured her, holding her in a grip that cut off her breath. His laughter echoed in the cave, laden with cruelty and malice.
"Did you really think you would escape so easily?" Osric mocked, reveling in his victory. "This has all been too simple. Every one of your moves has led me directly to this moment."
Osric began to boast about his plan in a chilling tone. He explained how, by allowing Roland to flee with the deer, he had manipulated his own men into following him to this place, hoping it would lead them to the trolls' refuge. Meanwhile, his new powers allowed him to sense the presence of a troll aiding Roland, though it was only now that he understood how deep their bond was.
"It's disgusting," Osric said with contempt as he watched Brynja and Roland. "That union between troll and human... will be the cause of your ruin."
The troll hunters were fully aware of the power that the night of the Blood Moon brought with it. Osric, delighting in his own cruelty, chained Brynja to the ground with shackles that allowed her to move only a few meters. As the glow of the red moon began to light up the sky, Osric could hardly contain his excitement. For him, the spectacle was about to begin.
With a twisted smile, he dragged Roland in front of Brynja, ensuring that they locked eyes. There was a silent understanding between them, a painful recognition that these could be their last moments together. Roland was trapped, helpless, and Brynja was chained, with the transformation that the Blood Moon would bring lurking on the horizon.
Then, with calculated slowness, Osric unsheathed his knife and plunged it into Roland's belly. A mortal wound, slow, designed to cause prolonged suffering. Brynja screamed, her soul torn apart by horror. She tried to break the chains, cursing with fury, but it was futile. Osric, savoring every second, pushed Roland towards Brynja, letting his wounded body fall into her arms.
Brynja held him gently, as if her hands could keep his soul inside his body. Her heart broke as she watched Roland's life slowly fade away. Powerlessness consumed her.
Osric looked up at the sky and declared, "And now... let the spectacle begin."
The Blood Moon rose high, its crimson light bathing the scene in a sinister glow. Brynja then understood Osric's true intention: he wanted her to transform in front of Roland, to let the curse consume her, and for her monstrous form to devour the man she loved. Terror filled her veins, but so did rage. She refused to let the beast take control, but the transformation had already begun.
Her body began to change. Her claws grew, her muscles tensed, and the roar of the beast fought to escape her throat. Every fiber of her being was being invaded by darkness. It was inevitable. She felt the monster taking over her, pushing her towards an abyss she feared she could not escape.
Then, the words of Zugmar echoed in her mind: "Remember, that although it may not seem like it, you have control."
With one last effort, Brynja fought against the darkness. She clung to those words as if they were a rope thrown in the midst of a storm. As the spiritual and physical worlds intertwined, Brynja, with an almost superhuman strength, pulled against the chain that bound her, not only in the physical world but also in the spiritual one. She felt something deep within her respond. The beast recoiled, weakened by Brynja's unbreakable will.
Finally, she broke the chains.
The bloodlust faded. Brynja, in complete control of her being, leaned towards Roland, whose strength was already waning, and kissed him gently. Tears fell from her eyes as her lips touched his, as if that kiss were the only way to stop the horror looming over them.
At that moment, the sky suddenly darkened. A shroud of red and black clouds covered the entire world, and a bolt of pure energy descended from the heavens, connecting the earth and sky right where Brynja and Roland stood. The impact of the bolt was so powerful that everything around them was vaporized instantly. The troll hunters, who had witnessed the scene, turned to dust, their screams silenced in a sigh.
Osric, his monstrous body resisting the power of the bolt for a few more seconds, looked on in horror and fascination. He saw Brynja transform, but not into the beast he had expected. Her features softened, an elfin beauty overtook her face, and a divine light seemed to envelop her. But what disturbed Osric the most was what happened next.
Before his very eyes, Roland's wounds began to close. His body, which had been on the brink of death, was slowly healing under Brynja's touch. Osric, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing, tried to speak, but before he could do so, his own body disintegrated into dust, swept away by the very storm he had created.