The light of sundown crept through the balcony doors of my room, casting long, shifting shadows across the wooden floor. The soft glow of dusk painted the walls in hues of amber and crimson, wrapping the space in a solemn warmth. I lay on my bed, gazing at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily, stirring the warm air. Lost in thought, a sudden memory surfaced—the book hidden beneath my pillow. It contained ancient records of the last war of the clans, the alliances formed in desperation, and the capture of two of the most powerful vampires ever known in Adams Town, Kalia Scarlet and Cyrus Bane. Their defeat was an event that brought a fragile resolution but left many questions unanswered. Even now, almost a century later, many doubted the truth of the official accounts, as whispers of betrayal and conspiracy shadowed the tale. Without hesitation, I slid my hand under the pillow and pulled the book out.

Flipping through its worn pages, an image of an old church caught my eye. I assumed it was a depiction of the sanctuary within the Scarlet enclave, where the petrified bodies of the elders were housed. But as I turned the pages, a curious detail seized my attention.

Strategically positioned around the church were a series of mirrors, each angled toward the elders. Behind every mirror, figures of men were drawn, their hands gripping levers attached to the mirrors. Above the church, the illustration of a bright sun was prominently displayed.

Lost in my thoughts, I was startled by a soft knock coming from the balcony doors. Glancing over, I noticed the silhouette of a woman standing outside, watching me as I read. Closing the book, I rose and approached the door, revealing Dahlia waiting on the balcony. I paused, as I opened the door, taking a moment to admire her beauty.

"Really?" Dahlia frowned. "I'm starting to think you know very little about vampires—or women, for that matter."

I chuckled. "That's fair. It's been a while since I've had much direct contact with vampires, and apparently, I'm still learning the part where I have to invite you in, when you show up unannounced."

"That's right, I am still a vampire," she said with a smirk. "Would you like to invite me in properly?"

"Of course. Would you care to come in?" I asked, lifting my hand in a polite gesture, offering to take hers.

Dahlia looked at me for a moment, then ignored my hand and stepped into the room. "Let me guess—I'm in trouble for stepping into a man's bedroom uninvited?"

"Not at all. I'm just surprised I get to see you this often. Honestly, I'm starting to feel a little spoiled."

"Don't let it go to your head, puppy. I'm here on official business."

"Is that so? Then why not use the front door?"

Dahlia smiled as she walked toward my bed and sat down. "The elder has ordered us to gather information," she said. "You have a lot of eyes on you."

"Information? She could simply ask. What does the elder want to know?"

"Preparations for the war are underway, including gathering intelligence. The elder wants to end the culling quickly by targeting the leaders of each clan first. Instead of spying on you to gather information, I decided to knock on your door."

"To be honest, I'm not prepared for this war. My clan consists of me, a few lesser werewolves, and a couple of servants. I pose no threat to anyone."

Dahlia nodded. "I understand. Most in this town view werewolves as a problem. But thanks to you, I've started to change my mind about your kind." She gestured toward the book laying on the bed. "I noticed you were reading the book we sent you. Did you find anything that caught your eye?"

"I did," I said, sitting next to her. "The book describes how the hunters managed to capture Kalia and Bane, but something about it feels... off. I believe it was a setup. There's no way the hunters could have contained two fully transformed vampires on their own—especially not during the night when your kind is at its strongest. The timeline, the methods—it just doesn't add up."

I took the book in my hands, flipping through its pages until I got to the drawing depicting the elder's defeat.

Dahlia leaned back slightly; her eyes narrowed as she considered my words. "I've thought the same. The official tales passed down through the years don't match what's written in this book. It's almost as if the truth was deliberately obscured. You're right to be skeptical—it wasn't just the hunters. They couldn't have done it alone."

Her gaze shifted to the book in my hands. "I believe, that's why I was ordered to remove that book from the archives. Not just this one, but several others like it. I was instructed to deliver them all to the crematory for destruction. I can only assume it was an attempt to bury the truth about what really happened that morning."

"Talking about the elders, whatever happened to the essence I provided you?"

"I handed it to Elenore. She then summoned one of the sanctuary keepers—a man named Mathis. From what I understand, he took the essence back to the sanctuary to initiate the awakening process. It's a delicate procedure, one that will take several weeks to complete."

She looked at me with an intensity that caught me off guard. "Tobias, there's no need for you to take part in this war. I know warlocks—powerful ones—who can tear the veil of reality between Adams Town and the human world. If you want, I can help you escape."

"And end up like my mother? Like Harold? There's no escape from this place, Dahlia. If I were to leave, I'd spend the rest of my life hiding, always looking over my shoulder, waiting for Adams to find me again. And even if I could somehow vanish completely... there's no place for a monster like me in the human world."

I rose from the bed, watching as Dahlia lowered her head, unable to convince me to flee. This was a side of her I had rarely seen—vulnerable, contemplative, stripped of the fearless resolve that once defined her as a vampire. For a moment, I considered the burden she carried, but my resolve remained firm.

"Thank you for the information you've provided me with this book. However, I believe it's of little use to us in its current form. The hunters who trapped the elders in the church a century ago are not the same as the ones patrolling Adams today. This new breed of hunters is enhanced with vampire strength, posing a far greater threat than Elenore realizes."

I began pacing slowly, clasping my hands behind my back. "If she thinks taking down Chief Harrow and the Inquisitor will be an easy task, I'd suggest you inform her of their recent activities. Their experiments with elder essence and their willingness to push the boundaries of morality have created something entirely new. These hunters aren't just soldiers anymore—they're predators. Adams is a powder keg, and Elenore needs to understand that the upcoming war will not be the same battlefield she's faced before. Underestimating the hunters will cost us dearly. So, if you want to protect your clan, your elders, and your sanctuary, make sure she's aware of the storm brewing beneath her."

"I've already told her everything you've shared with me. But she dismissed your claims as nothing more than childish games. She refused to take me seriously."

I stood silently before the balcony doors, my gaze fixed on the horizon as the sun disappeared behind the dense canopy of the forest. "Then let her be prey to her own ignorance. There's nothing else we can do for now but wait—for the war to unfold and for the chaos to consume this town. But before it begins, I will settle the score with Chief Harrow."

The memory of Harold's final moments surged through me, raw and unrelenting. "Harold died in my arms. His chest was pierced by a silver bolt, fired from the shadows. A bolt that could only have come from a hunter's weapon."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Dahlia walked towards me, placing her frigid hands on my back." That will only make things worse. Revenge won't change what happened to Harold. But if you want justice, take the evidence you have and summon the elder immediately. For this war to proceed, all four clan leaders must be present. If your evidence is incriminating enough, the elder will be forced to call for a hearing. Chief Harrow would then have to defend himself against your accusations."

I turned slightly, staring at her eyes. "And if I succeed? What happens then?"

"If the evidence is convincing and a vote of complicity is cast against Harrow, the war could be delayed indefinitely. The council won't allow a clan to participate without a recognized leader. The Scarlet clan's law is clear—no exceptions, not even for Elenore."

"You think that'll work?"

"It has to, It's the law. Every clan must abide by it, even the Scarlet clan. If you formally accuse Chief Harrow of murdering Harold, the elder will have no choice but to grant you a hearing. It's your right as a recognized clan leader. But your situation may be more complicated than it seems. For instance, your clan lacks a proper hierarchy. You don't have political or financial advisors to help manage the clan's affairs. Without a structured system, your claim might be seen as weak or disorganized."

Her words stung, though I knew they carried truth.

"The council won't hear a clan leader who hasn't appointed a speaker," Dahlia said. "It's a critical role—a representative to argue your case before all the clan leaders and their respective cabinets. However, due to your recent arrival and the unusual circumstances surrounding your leadership, the council might appoint a temporary speaker on your behalf. It's rare, but not without precedent."

"So, even if I present irrefutable evidence, I'll still need someone to stand before the council for me?"

"Yes. But that someone must be capable and trusted. If the council appoints a temporary speaker, their loyalty might not lie entirely with you. They could use their position to sway the outcome. This is why I suggest taking steps to build your hierarchy now. Appoint your speaker if you can. Someone who will fight for your cause as fiercely as you would."

A sudden realization struck me like a cold blade to the core. My mother's death, the peculiar circumstances of my arrival in this forsaken town, and Harold's tragic end all began to intertwine, forming a dark and terrifying truth. The elder's cryptic words during my first visit to her now come alive in my mind, their hidden meaning finally coming into focus. And then there were Harold's final words—his last breath spent mentioning the Scarlet clan.

If what Dahlia said is true—that the war cannot begin without all the clan leaders present—then my suspicions were no longer mere speculation. They were facts, glaring and undeniable. I wasn't brought to Adams Town by chance or fate. I was brought here with a purpose—to ensure the culling of Adams Town could take place.

Without me, the delicate balance required for the war to ignite would never exist. I was the missing piece, the linchpin in a carefully constructed plan. Harold hadn't brought me here out of choice or paternal duty; he had been forced, coerced into delivering me to this town as a pawn in a larger game.

I clenched my fist, as anger boiled inside me. Without hesitation, I struck one of the balcony doors. The glass shattered into countless pieces, scattering across the floor. The sound echoed sharply, snapping Dahlia's attention to me.

"What's wrong?" she yelled.

"Tell me, are you absolutely certain about what you said—that all the clan leaders must be present for the war to start?"

Dahlia hesitated for a moment, before answering. "It's written in the accords. The law was established centuries ago. For the culling to officially begin, all clan leaders must be present. It's not just tradition—it's a binding rule."

Her confirmation hit me like a blow to the chest, as the truth began to sink in. I took a shaky breath, staring at the broken glass scattered at my feet. "Then it's all my fault, Dahlia. All along, we were played. My mother's death, Harold's sacrifice... everything was orchestrated to bring me here. Not because of who I am, but because of what I represent—the final piece needed to start this war."

"This isn't your fault. I'm sure the elder would have found another way to ignite the war, with or without you. That's exactly why I've aligned myself with people like Vantos—to put an end to this senseless cycle of violence once and for all." She reached out, her cold fingers wrapping around my hand, grounding me in the moment. "How about... we work together to stop this carnage? And maybe, just maybe, one day we could find some kind of normalcy... a life free from all of this chaos."

Suddenly, a knock at the door shattered the fragile moment. Dahlia stepped back instinctively, her figure dissolving into the shadows of the room, as though she were never there. I walked to the door and opened it to find Lydia standing there. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, and a tear rolled down her cheek, glistening in the dim light.

"I apologize, signore, I didn't want to interrupt you..." Her voice faltered, as I noticed the raw emotion behind her words—the fear, the desperation.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's Annie, signore. She's not getting better."

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. It had only been a few days since I made the fateful choice to turn Annie into a werewolf—a decision driven more by desperation than rational thought. Now, the consequences of that choice crashed over me like a cold tide, chilling me to my core. The realization that she was struggling with the transformation clawed at me, filling me with guilt and a creeping sense of dread.

I closed the door to my bedroom, catching a glimpse of Dahlia slipping silently out of the room. Without hesitation, I made my way to the guest house and quickly entered Annie's room. As I approached her, I was met with a sight that twisted my heart—a frail, weakened version of the girl I knew. The once vibrant girl now looked pale and weak, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Beads of moisture slipped down her flushed cheeks, staining the pillow beneath her head. Her once-bright eyes were closed, her expression distant, as if caught in a dream she couldn’t escape.

Placing a hand on her forehead, I winced at the searing heat beneath my palm. The fever was raging, consuming her from within.

"She's burning up," I said, concerned. "Is there anything—anything at all—we can do to bring the fever down?"

Lydia shook her head. "I've tried everything. Nothing seems to be working. I'm afraid... I'm afraid we'll lose her before she completes the turn."

Then, a sudden voice drifted inside the guest house. "Young master? Are you here?"

I closed my eyes as I turned away from Annie's bedside. My heart ached, knowing there was nothing more I could do for her at the moment. "Please look after her. I'll be back as soon as I can."

As I stepped outside, I found Gerald standing on the porch, waiting. He looked entirely transformed—dressed in fresh clothes, his appearance clean and orderly. The rough edges of his disheveled past seemed temporarily smoothed, though his eyes still carried the burden of someone who'd seen far too much.

"I'm sorry... were you busy? I didn't mean to intrude."

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't rid myself of the feeling that I had failed Annie. The image of her frail body lingered in my mind, making it impossible to focus. I remained silent, unable to muster the energy for a conversation with Gerald as I grappled with my swirling emotions.

"Is there something wrong with the Luna wolf?" Gerald asked.

"She's not doing well. The fever... it's consuming her."

"Is it alright if I take a look?"

I nodded. "Follow me."

Once we reached Annie's room, Gerald approached her bedside calmly, studying her fragile form with an experienced eye.

"I've seen this condition in other Luna wolves before. Her life hangs in a thin thread. If she can't withstand the fever, she won't make it through the transformation. Warlocks have potions that can sustain her until the full moon, but..." He placed a hand on her burning forehead and shook his head grimly. "Her condition may worsen before we even return. She might need a more drastic treatment—one I've witnessed many times before."

"What do I need to do, Gerald?"

"In my 157 years as a werewolf, I've seen many Luna wolves fall to the bite of an alpha. This happens most often when they're bitten under the influence of the red moon—when the alpha's strength is at its peak. It amplifies the risk of transformation failure. You must consider this carefully. If she survives, as the first Luna wolf of your clan, she will be stronger than any other woman you ever choose to turn. But her survival depends on one thing—a blood transfusion from the alpha who bit her."

Gerald turned towards me; his face filled with worry. "I'm afraid, I do not know anyone skilled enough to help you, young master. Most of the warlocks I used to know who were capable of performing the ritual are either dead or have vanished from the trade clan."

"I know a warlock who might be able to help us."

"That is good news. If this warlock is as skilled as you believe, she might have a chance to survive."

"We must hurry. Finding Vantos' club will be tricky."

"Vantos Orien? The Demon Handler?" Gerald laughed. "Now it makes sense! I was wondering where that massive toad had come from. But the ritual to help your Luna wolf might be out of his expertise. And, well... I might have some trouble gaining entry to his club."

I grew curious about his comment. "Why?" I asked.

"Let's just say, at one point in my life, I... uh, unconsciously tried to seduce one of his wives. It was a mistake—a lapse in judgment—but I doubt Vantos sees it that way. I'm certain he's never going to forgive me."

I sighed in disbelief. "We'll worry about that when the time comes. Vantos might not hold as much of a grudge against you as you think. Right now, Annie's survival is all that matters."

"Very well. And what about the task you assigned to me? The message you wanted me to deliver?"

"That can wait until we return. Once Annie is out of danger, we'll deal with Dylan's behavior together—as a pack. For now, this is our priority."