William remains enthralled by the tale, reducing his interruptions. I lift my bombard, a cup significantly bigger than the one Phillip uses to serve his ale, signaling my desire for another pour.

Many of William's men have succumbed to sleep, a situation I find relatable given their substantial consumption of alcohol.

William and Roy remained expectant for the story to continue, when suddenly Roy banged his jack on the table, startling the rest of the group awake.

"Listen up. It's rude to doze off before the man has finished his story."

In appreciation of Roy's gesture, I raised my cup and then carried on with the tale.

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

Several weeks had passed since we welcomed the wild boy into our household. He proved to be harmless, and his conduct consistently impressed everyone. With winter setting in, Arland chose to remove the boy's restraints. He fortified certain doors and windows, transferring the boy to his own room within the house.

By now, the residents of Bortoli were well aware of Arland's mysterious son, calling him 'the demon boy' due to the red color of his eyes. Initially, Ingrid refuted these speculations, but eventually, the boy began to walk and interact like any ordinary person. When confronted with this previously unknown son, Ingrid finally acknowledged his existence, thereby putting an end to the town's gossip.

Ingrid grew deeply attached to the child, treating him as her own. She clothed him, bathed him, and even provided lessons to educate him. However, given his inherent disposition, the boy showed little interest in speaking, finding that he could communicate his needs simply by taking her hand.

Upon our return from a hunting trip, Ingrid greeted us with a radiant, warm smile. She hurried over to Arland, hugging him tightly as she shared some exciting news.

"I'd like you to meet our newest son."

The boy approached her, his gaze now more friendly than wary.

"Go on, tell papa your name."

The boy stepped forward and reached for Arland's hand. "Lysander, my name is... Lysander."

Ingrid chose the name Lysander for him, as a tribute to a child from her past who was never born. Arland's face was a whirlwind of emotions. He enveloped Lysander in a heartfelt embrace, welcoming him as a new member of the D'amano family. It was a relief to see that Lysander wasn't the demon we had first suspected. The entire family gathered around, eager to care for Lysander, who basked in the affection he received.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Given the role of an older brother, I was responsible for keeping an eye on him. Arland had decided it was time for Lysander to interact with children his age to observe his response. Obviously, I served as his guard, placing myself near him, where I could keep an eye in the event Lysander experience a disagreement with another kid. Seeing him playing like a normal child had prompted me to remember my times when I was his age.

Lysander proved to be a contemplative child. No matter how many kids were around, he never approached anyone to join in their games. He always found ways to entertain himself. This behavior unearthed memories I had long suppressed, memories of rejection and unfairness.

I wished that Lysander would be spared from the kind of experiences I had gone through. The thought of what might happen to these children if they treated him as they did to me at his age was something I preferred not to dwell on. I must remember that Lysander, despite everything, is still a child of the wild, and his experiences might differ significantly from mine.

In a way, I found comfort in his solitary nature and the minimal interactions he had with those around him.

That evening, I assisted Lysander in preparing for bed. However, no matter my efforts, he always preferred the cold floor over the warmth and comfort of his bed. I understood that this preference stemmed from the untamed part of him I was confident, though, that with time, this behavior would fade and his ability to communicate with others would continue to improve.

After a long and demanding day, I made my way back to my room, feeling utterly exhausted. As I lay in bed, the light from the candle beside me started to dim. I got up from my bed with the intention to replace it with a fresh candle, when I heard a rustling sound outside my window. The full moon's light was exceptionally bright that night, illuminating everything as clearly as if it were daytime.

Outside, Lysander was standing in the yard, his eyes intensely fixed on the full moon. I quickly made my way downstairs and followed him out, maintaining silence. What I witnessed then was beyond anything I could have imagined.

Moonlight bathed Lysander, and as it did, his body started to emit steam. There was a sound of cracking bones, and his skin began to sprout white hair.

The sight I witnessed that night filled my heart with fear, as I had never imagined that a boy like him could transform into a wolf.

I concealed myself in the shadows, watching the white wolf with its fiery red eyes survey its surroundings before running off towards the northern forest.

I hurried to my room, locking the door and barricading it with a desk, bracing myself in case the wolf had noticed me and chose to follow.

But it never did.

That night, I drifted off to sleep near the window, my mind filled with apprehension that the wolf might appear at any moment. The next morning, I was awakened by the familiar sounds of townspeople attending their early business. The sounds of lively chatter and the playful shouts of children in pursuit of one another outside assured me that the night had passed without any untoward incidents.

I was startled by a knock on my door. It was Arland, arriving at his regular time, ready to go over the requests of his people.

"Randall, I'll be waiting for you downstairs."