I understood I was at a disadvantage. The vampires held the upper hand with an army of ghouls at their command, poised to unleash chaos on Adams when the trumpets blared their signal. Meanwhile, the hunters seemed intent on winning the war by evolving themselves into something far more dangerous, using the elder's essence to gain powers they might not fully understand or control.

This left us—werewolves and warlocks—to form an alliance and try to survive the inevitable war. It was becoming increasingly clear that Chief Harrow had acquired some of the elder's essence to enhance the hunters under his command, turning them into even deadlier weapons. Yet, what troubled me most was the likelihood that Mel was unaware of Utica’s secret. Consuming the elder's essence to boost her abilities was a dangerous gamble, one that could have dire consequences.

Then there were the rumors swirling about Elenore and her ambitious tactics to ascend as the leader of the Scarlet clan, even at the cost of betraying her own kind. I suspected she sought the essence for one purpose: awakening Cyrus Bane. If this were true, it could spell disaster once the war was officially declared.

I stepped back into the private room, where Derrick and Antolio were still engaged in a playful conversation with Lutia. Antolio’s eyes shifted to me as I took a seat at the table.

"I hope she wasn't too difficult to handle," he asked.

"She was no problem at all."

The door opened, and Vantos entered the room, holding three vials. Without a word, he approached the table and placed them in the center. Two of the vials contained the unmistakable essence of a vampire elder, their dark liquid swirling ominously, while the third vial contained a bright orange substance that caught the light like fire.

"Thank you for not inciting a fight in my club and for behaving like civil men. The orange vial is your Monkshood potion. A word of caution—handle it carefully. Lesser werewolves will suffer a severe burning rash if it comes into contact with their skin."

He gestured to the other vials. "As for the elder's essence, I had to dilute the pure liquid, splitting it into two vials and adding ghoul essence to reduce its potency. The pure form would have been... problematic. I’ve fulfilled my part of the deal, young master. The question is, what do you intend to do with it?"

"I’ll return one of the vials to the elder. I won’t risk provoking their wrath while I’m still trying to uncover who kidnapped Harold."

"And Chief Harrow? Would you give the other essence to him?"

Through the glass walls, I observed Utica and her new companion. My thoughts lingered on Chief Harrow and his likely intention to infuse hunters with the elder's essence, strengthening them for the impending war. The peculiar scent emanating from Utica confirmed my suspicions.

"He won’t get one," I said, grabbing the vials in my hand. "I’ve already had the opportunity to smell fresh blood from a hunter. It reeked of tampering—likely with the pure essence. They might be using it to get an edge in the coming conflict."

"Interesting," Vantos said, touching his chin thoughtfully. "That might explain certain irregularities I’ve noticed in my club—my wards and seals have been weakening inexplicably. Lately, there’s been a noticeable influx of hunters here, and many of my blood seals vanish shortly after they complete the entry ritual. Tread carefully, young master. We still don’t know the full extent of what we’re dealing with."

"Well, this concludes our visit, Vantos," I said, glancing back at Utica through the glass wall. "I appreciate the help."

"I have one more present for you, young master." Vantos moved his hands in the air, summoning a black leather belt. "This is a dragon-skin rib belt. It’s enchanted to adapt to the shape of your body, even when you transform into a werewolf. Its durability is unmatched, and it will hold up under the most extreme conditions."

I took the belt from his hands, feeling the smooth texture of the material. There was something almost alive about it, the way it seemed to mold subtly to my grip.

"I recommend putting it on now. The pockets are designed to securely hold the vials. After all the trouble we went through to acquire them, it would be a shame to lose them."

"Thank you," I said, glancing at Vantos.

"I hope on your next visit, you'll be willing to negotiate for a pint of your blood, I'm running out of regeneration potions."

Derrick stood up, after hearing Vantos trying to strike a deal for my blood. "Then let’s make a deal. I’m willing to offer my blood instead."

Vantos turned to Derrick with a faintly disappointed expression, shaking his head. "Unfortunately for you, the blood of lesser werewolves holds no interest for me."

"What are you trying to imply, fruitcake?"

In an instant, Vantos raised his hand and blew a dark powder into Derrick's face. "I believe this dog needs to learn a new trick—like keeping its mouth shut." His voice dropped into a murmur as he chanted words under his breath. Before our eyes, Derrick's mouth began to vanish, touching his face with his hands, as he felt it disappear.

"Nothing personal, it’s simply a matter of quality. Your blood lacks the... refinement I require for my potions. My apologies, young master. Your servant was being rather impolite."

I glanced at Derrick, who was now frantically touching the smooth, featureless skin where his mouth had been. I stepped forward, addressing Vantos's sudden response. "I’ll ensure he doesn’t speak out of turn again, agreed?"

Derrick nodded quickly, as his eyes widened with panic.

"You must understand, though, once we leave this club, I already have one mute werewolf in my company. Please, let him have his mouth back. I’ll take responsibility for his behavior."

Vantos tilted his head, considering my words. After a brief pause, he sighed. "Very well. But only because I value our future dealings, young master."

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Vantos raised his fist to his mouth, coughing twice into it. Then, he extended his closed hand in front of Derrick’s face and slowly opened it. Derrick’s mouth began to reform, the skin reshaping until his lips were fully restored.

Derrick ran his fingers over his face, as a smile broke through his initial shock. "That was... very unpleasant," he said, taking a deep breath. "I apologize, for my rude behavior."

Vantos smiled. "Good. It seems you can learn a few tricks after all. From now on, let the adults do the talking, alright?"

Derrick nodded, sinking back into his chair, still rubbing his jaw as if ensuring it was fully intact.

"Please, excuse us. We have other matters to attend. Antolio, Derrick, Let's get going," I said, standing up and walking out the door.

"We will see each other again, soon," Vantos said.

I found myself standing in front of the club’s entrance, an oddly featureless slab of wood with no visible doorknob or handle. I stared at it for a moment, puzzled by its design and unsure of how to proceed.

"What now? How do we leave?"

Without a word, Antolio stepped forward, pressing his palm against the door and giving it a gentle push, revealing a void of black emptiness beyond.

"Just like this," he said, gesturing for me to follow.

I hesitated briefly, the pitch-black expanse radiating an unsettling aura. But with a deep breath, I stepped forward, plunging into the darkness.

As we stepped out of the club, the pungent stench of putrid blood wafted through the air, making my senses flare. Overhead, the red moon loomed ominously, casting an eerie glow across the abandoned warehouse. Suddenly, Titus, Vantos familiar, jumped out of my pocket, landing on the ground. I frowned, curious about the familiar’s reaction—perhaps the frog sensed something I hadn’t yet detected, or maybe he was reluctant to leave his master.

Suddenly, my thoughts were cut short by a sudden barrage of bolts landing at our feet, their impact sparking violent explosions upon contact with the ground. The force shook the area, sending dust and debris into the air.

"Move!" I shouted as we jumped away from the entrance, narrowly avoiding the blasts as they continued to rain down. My eyes glanced upward, and there he was—the male hunter who had been watching me earlier. He stood atop the roof of the abandoned warehouse, his silhouette outlined against the crimson moon. With a sinister smile, he knocked another arrow in his hand bow, focusing entirely on me.

A surge of anger coursed through my veins, feeling the beast within me clawing its way out of my body. The audacity of the attack, paired with the hunter’s clear intent to harm, sent my instincts into overdrive. Before I could react further, Antolio and Derrick began to transform, their bodies contorting as their forms shifted into powerful werewolves. Without hesitation, they leaped onto the rooftop, prepared to confront the hunter head-on.

"Hey! Hold on a minute. Three against one?... That's not fair. What about you keeping your filthy paws away from my brand-new outfit? This doesn't need to get ugly," the hunter said. "Just give me the elder's essence and everyone can return home in one piece. What you say?"

His words were met with silence as Antolio and Derrick advanced, growling at the hunter menacingly. The hunter’s smug smile didn’t waver as he drew a short silver sword, its blade catching the light of the red moon.

"Stand back!" I shouted, the command carrying the force of my authority as I felt the familiar surge within me. The pain came quickly, my bones cracking and reshaping, my body enveloped in a mantle of pristine white fur. The beast emerged, its presence powerful and undeniable—but I was still in control. My mind remained clear, even as the primal strength coursed through me.

The hunter froze for a moment, his eyes widening as he watched the beast within me taking over my body. Then his grin returned, broader and more sinister. "Oh, a white werewolf! Looks like I’ve hit the jackpot tonight!"

The agility of my wolf form was exhilarating, allowing me to move effortlessly through the rubble as I closed the distance to the hunter. His sinister smile didn’t falter, even as the beast within me let out a deafening howl. The sound reverberated through the air, commanding Antolio and Derrick to engage.

The hunter moved with uncanny precision, dodging the wolves' relentless attacks with ease. Then, in a desperate move, he launched a bolt of fiery light into the fray. The flash was blinding, forcing us to recoil as our vision was temporarily overwhelmed.

When my sight cleared, I caught a glimpse of the hunter running toward the woods at an unnatural speed.

"Follow him!" I said, surprised that I could speak in wolf form. It reminded me of Curtis when he attacked the estate—his ability to communicate through the beast had struck me as unusual then. Now I understood the connection, the wolf’s heightened senses making the world sharp and vibrant, every detail around me vivid and alive.

But as we chased the hunter through the dense woods, something unusual caught my attention. The red moon, ominous and looming when we had stepped out of the club, was no longer red. Its light now bathed us in a serene blue hue, its glow casting a surreal sheen over the forest.

We pursued the hunter to the forest’s edge, where the ground abruptly gave way to a deep chasm. Realizing that he was out of bolts, the hunter stopped abruptly, acknowledging he was trapped. Slowly, he turned to face us, his breathing steady, his composure unshaken.

"All right, all right," he said, raising his hands mockingly. "You’ve got me cornered. How does it feel to have the upper hand in the battle?"

His tone dripped with defiance as if the danger he faced amused him more than frightened him. I growled low, the wolf within me eager to strike, but I held my ground, watching him closely. Something about his confidence didn’t sit right, and the blue glow of the moon made the moment feel like a fragile illusion waiting to be shattered.

I noticed the hunter was out of ammunition, his only remaining weapon was the silver short sword gripped tightly. I took a deep breath and shifted back into my human form, the transition coming with surprising ease this time. The dragon-skin rib belt around my lower chest adjusted seamlessly to the change, hugging my form. Antolio and Derrick, however, stayed in their transformed states, flanking me as I stepped forward, curious to uncover his motives.

"You have no choice but to surrender," I said, as I slowly approached him. "Before we end this little quarrel, I’m inclined to ask—why do you want the essence?"

The hunter threw his head back and let out a maniacal laugh, the sound grating against the quiet tension of the night. "Why, you ask?"

Suddenly, he dropped the sword, letting it clang to the ground. His hands began to elongate unnaturally, his skin taking on a sickly gray hue. He shrieked in pain, as a pair of tattered, grotesque wings tore through the back of his shirt and unfurled with an eerie crackle.

"I think I won’t be answering any more questions," he snarled, his voice distorted and inhuman. His newly formed claws flexed, and his black eyes stared intensively at me. "If you’re not going to give me the essence willingly, I’ll just take it from your dead corpse!"

Without hesitation, I forced my body to shift back into the white wolf, the transformation ripping through me in an instant. As the sickly creature surged toward me with unnatural speed, I caught a glimpse of its distorted face—twisted in a grotesque mockery of humanity.

It struck Antolio first, its claws raking across his side with terrifying force, sending him sprawling. Derrick leaped over him, sinking his powerful jaws into the creature’s neck. But to my horror, his efforts proved useless—the creature’s skin remained unscathed, as if impervious to even the strongest werewolf bite.

"What do you think you're doing?" The creature said, "tickling me?" It grabbed Derrick by the fur on his head, lifting him effortlessly before slamming him into the ground with enough force that cracks splintered through the earth beneath him. Derrick lay motionless, stunned, and momentarily incapacitated.

"Now it’s your turn, puppy," it hissed, its wings spreading wide, casting a sinister shadow over me.

The beast within me snarled, my instincts screaming to fight or flee. My muscles tensed, claws digging into the dirt, but for a moment, I froze. The creature’s overwhelming presence, its unrelenting malice, held me still as its shadow seemed to grow darker, heavier, around me.

Then, out of nowhere, a small, shiny blue crystal tumbled to the ground in front of me. Its surface glowed faintly, and a voice resonated from behind.

"You're not scared? are you?"