The Architect is the only deity that is universally revered by the civilized races of Althrá. While his only true temple is in the valley of Shael, he has a shrine in every single settlement of the civilized races. He is most known for the system he created and runs to aid those that accept his existence. He is the only god that has been accepted to be “respected” or revered by all of the other religions among the civilized races of Althrá. His dogma is simply to do whatever it is that you do well. His main domains are Strategy and Foresight.
----------------------------------------
Adrian
----------------------------------------
Having successfully distracted Kylana from embarrassing K, I take the bags and set them in Void Cache, separate from the various piles of stuff in there. Once I finish the last of the half dozen bags I ask Analais, “do you know where the priest's cabin should be?”
He nods and I continue, “then please lead the way. We'll make better time that way.”
Analais smiles as he once more nods. Ragnan for once is silent but he does glare at me. Something must have happened last night to him. Still, this is an improvement and I don’t want to be bothered by his usual actions.
As we walk rather than half waste the time I begin the language lessons that we so need. While it is true that we could use the Althaen language as a common tongue for our group and that it is good at not confounding communication with double meanings, I don’t like the language. A byproduct of how I dislike the people, or is it peoples, that share the language's name but aside from that almost everyone speaks it in this world and that means anyone can listen in on our conversations.
Less people know Elvish or English so I’d rather us use those. There is of course also the many dialects of Lycanthrip, but I don’t know if Bryan and Abagail can learn it. Even though it is simpler than many other tongues, many different words are identical and I sort of just instinctually know what the other speaker means. Sure, just afflicting them with Lycanthropy would teach it to them but that would have other complications. . .
Bryan would probably be okay but I don’t think Abagail's body would survive it. So that leaves the options of English and Elvish to fill the role of a common tongue without letting just anyone listen in on us.
Aside from that I also spend some time thinking about what I should get Kylana, Alana and Analais for the return gifts I still owe them. I should have figured something out by now but K is rather distracting and we never had permission to leave the village. I technically should also get Ragnor a gift but he didn’t get me one and he's an ass.
Roughly an hour or maybe two before we are supposed to arrive at our destination, a huge creature enters our sight from the treeline. The thing is half again the size of a large horse and is hideous, if not for the lack of stitching I would have thought the patches of bald skin and fur sewn together. It also has those veiny dehydrated roided out bodybuilder muscles that are literally pulsing and moving with every beat of his heart.
The wind shifts and I frown, something smells familiar about this creature but I can’t quite place it. Abagail screams only just noticing the monstrosity as Kylana growls, “what have you done?”
I glance at K to see a shocked faced, as if she can’t believe what she is seeing. I’m definitely missing something and it looks like all the werewolves do recognize whatever and whoever this is.
The creature manages to get three words out somewhat garbled his misshapen form, sorry, betrayal, and mistake. Then Something shifts in the light of it’s eyes before it begins to growl at our group.
I don’t know what this thing is but I know it will easily tear us apart in melee.
----------------------------------------
Kythia
----------------------------------------
I couldn’t give my full attention to my mate going over the basics of the elven tongue as my mind keeps wandering back to how he pinned and growled into my ear last night. How he asserted his dominance over me, forcing me to accept the fox whore's place in our den.
I was mad at the time, but it also makes me so proud that he can make me submit to his will. The legends of the Ravnos echo through my mind as I glance at my mate as he like all those here, save my mother, are ignoring the shifts in my scent that thinking of him brings.
Then we all go silent as a large creature walks out of the tree line and into the path that we are on. What walks into our view is clearly a werewolf in hybrid form, yet it is not anywhere near the moon to permit such a thing. Even without that it is clear that he is diseased and corrupted.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The wind shifts and I catch his scent as my mother says, “what have you done?”
It is the scent of my father, but wrong. He never had a good one but it was never like this. Even now with only a sliver of the moon to power her, sister growls in the back of my mind. I don’t catch what this creature says as sister growls of “pack eater, betrayer” and another word I don’t quite understand.
My mate shifts his stance to be ready to intercept if he attacks me and blocks the way towards the fox. Neither he nor us attack as we stare each other down, the creature that was once my father struggling with the madness that fills the light of his eyes. I wish it were not so, that he was gone rather than trapped in what he now is. That way I would not feel as I do and could fight rather than suffer the two conflicting pulls on my heart.
“You have betrayed the pack, turned on and slaughtered kin and become an Anathema. You are no longer of the pack and no longer my mate” my mother growls out in her own emotional turmoil.
I glace around to see Alana and Analais glare at what was once my father, Ragnan muttering something to himself, and my mate’s two friends stand confused. The fox oddly enough seems to be ready to act but I don’t know if I can bring myself to fight my father. All I can remember are the lessons that he taught me. All of the good that he has done for me as a father. . .
I know that I should but I just can’t bare my fangs at him. Instead I give into Moonlight Runner’s fury, push her to the forefront and give her control even though the moon doesn’t give her the needed power and I have to give it to her but I barely feel that pain.
----------------------------------------
Moonlight Runner
----------------------------------------
The moment that sister somehow pushes me forward, I feel far stronger than I should be. Not as strong as I normally am under the full moon but strong enough to control our body as sister shoves me to the front.
I stumble for an instant, not ready to take sister’s place as she mentally cries over the event that roused me from my slumber and the conflicting emotions. She shouldn’t have done this, turning on such a moon as today is unnatural and wrong.
The Anathema that stands before me losses itself to it’s madness and charges in that moment of weakness between sister’s control and my own. He is however blocked by both my mate and mother though a ball of greenish flames that no doubt is from the fox.
I growl and can feel our body begin to change into a hybrid shape albeit at a slow pace as sister’s strength trickles into me. My mate shifts into his own hybrid form chanting words that don’t seem to form a complete spell yet fire coats his claws as the sink into the flesh of the target of my rage.
Mother steps back, slicing into the back of her right hand and in a magic she never showed sister, the running blood erupts into dark scarlet flames along the blade of her bone sword. The Anathema’s flesh regrows under the attacks from my mate but the cuts from my mother’s blade stay.
I circle the creature waiting for an opening along with Alana and Analais. I hear the bones of my mate break as he is launched back by a heavy blow, his wings breaking against the tree that stops him.
I charge in, not noticing how the Anathema seems not quite as large as before, just like everyone else. My claws sink into his flesh as mother frowns. I rip out a chunk of flesh, the thought of eating it for power flashes through my mind as blood splatters over my form. To grow stronger and draw the strength I need from something other than sister.
I toss the meat aside, refusing to become like the thing that hurt sister so. It must die for that alone atop its sins.
A blast of black flames wash over the creature, yet it begins to recover as soon as the flames run out on whatever power it is that my mate used to create them. His attacks seem unable to overcome the resistance and regeneration of the Anathema but he does pull the attention of the beast as he deals more pain than my claws or mother’s blade as he continues to perfectly time his movements to keep from being hit or take the least possible damage.
As the battle continues, sister’s presence dims as my anger grows and the blood of my enemy turns my fur red. My mate continues to burn the creature while the attacks of my mother and me deal lasting damage. Every so often my bones shift and pop to accommodate my slow transformation.
Not once do those outside of us three interrupt and intrude of the fight, save for the greenish flames of the fox whenever she finds an opening. My mate suffers many injuries, all of which he heals a moment after they are inflicted.
Time passes and wounds accumulate on the Anathema before he finally falls and I rip out his throat, blood running down my jaw as I spit out the chunk of meat and growl at the corpse. I rip another piece out of the corpse, growling. This thing needs to be reduced to nothing.
Mother does not sheath her blade but looks at me with a sadness I’ve never seen in her eyes. She takes a step forward and I shift to defend myself before my mate tackles me to the ground. I let him pin me as he says something to mother, my focus turning to him rather than the blood and gore that surrounds us.
“Moonlight Runner, it’s over. Calm down. You’re harming Kythia the longer you’re out” my mate whispers in my ear and I stop.
I turn to feel my soul sister to find her hurt and weak in addition to her emotional turmoil. Every ounce of power I used I had to tear from her. I was about to be a thing similar to what I despised so. A wolf who overtook and consumes their human sibling. I whimper and look to my mate for what to do, how to fix what I’ve done.
At first, he doesn’t just rubs his hands over my back as he returns to his human shape. He says something to my mother that stops her in her tracks before whispering in my ear, “you have to feed Kythia pieces of yourself until she recovers. Slowly and steadily, to not hurt her more.”