Werebeast

The mansion loomed before me, a sprawling structure surrounded by a dense forest. The sunlight glinted off the glass panels adorning the house, casting a dazzling brilliance over its surface. Despite its beauty, I moved quickly, slipping into the shadows. My aim was clear—I needed to hear what was being discussed.

As I crept closer to the breach where Old Miss Ray stood with a stranger, their voices drifted to me. I pressed myself against the wall, straining to catch their words.

“I need the broken Silver Crest,” Miss Ray said, her tone sharp and demanding.

“What Silver Crest?” the man asked, his voice deep and steady.

“You and I both know which Silver Crest,” she snapped.

“No,” he replied, his tone growing colder. “The one I know of has long been extinct. So tell me, which Silver Crest are you speaking of?”

She tapped her stick against the ground three times—a habit I knew well, one she always displayed when her patience wore thin or when she felt insulted. Her voice was colder now. “You have her, don’t you? I know you brought her here. I can smell her.”

“What does the Silver Crest have to do with her?” he asked, his stance shifting slightly.

“That is none of your concern,” she said curtly. “Just hand her over to me.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “That’s not how you ask for a favor.”

“You must be confusing demands with favors,” she countered sharply. “I’m not asking. I’m here to take what you stole from me.”

“I saved what you left for dead.” His words cut through the air like a blade.

Her lips twisted into a sneer. “Then you should have let her die.”

I gasped, the sound barely audible, but my throat went dry, and my heart raced. Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. I saw his hands clench into fists before he relaxed them again.

“What you’re claiming to be yours,” he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous, “is death. What I have now belongs to me.”

“Don’t you dare—” she began, anger simmering in her tone.

“Why didn’t you take her when she was still with you?” he interrupted, his words laced with disdain.

“What?” she asked, her voice shifting—not confused, but curious.

“That’s because you couldn’t. And the only way for you to take her is to have her die.”

Miss Ray faltered. For the first time, uncertainty crossed her features. “You’re speaking nonsense,” she stammered.

“Am I?” His tone turned mocking. “Or is killing her your newest realization?”

A thick silence fell between them, and the weight of his words made it clear he had struck a nerve. Her hesitation confirmed the truth in his accusation.

I reached for the half Silver Crest tied around my neck with an old rope, my fingers brushing against the cool surface. What did it all mean?

The stranger’s voice cut through the silence. “I didn’t expect you to crawl out of your hiding place.”

Miss Ray stiffened but responded defiantly. “Oh, but I will. You have what is mine.”

“Do I?” he asked, his tone daring, almost mocking.

“Nergal!” she barked, frustration dripping from every syllable.

My breath hitched. That’s his name. Nergal.

Old Miss Ray continued, her voice sharp and impatient. “I didn’t come here for a conversation. Don’t tempt me. Hand over what belongs to me, and I’ll leave without a trace. I swear it.”

A low chuckle escaped Nergal, deep and foreboding. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s so funny?” she snapped.

“How easy it is for you to demand,” he said, his voice dripping with quiet menace. “Merida.”

My eyes widened at the name. Merida? My gaze darted toward Miss Ray, expecting someone else to be there, but there was no one. Was that her name all along?

“And what if I don’t?” Nergal asked, his voice calm yet charged with danger.

A cruel smirk twisted her lips, and it sent a chill through me. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t move. Fear rooted me in place, heavy and paralyzing.

I couldn’t stand by and watch if something happened to him. Despite the ominous air about him, something compelled me to protect him. My legs moved forward of their own accord, trembling as I stepped closer.

“You don’t want to start a war now, do you? Or have you forgotten so quickly?”

“No,” Nergal said, his voice cold and steady. “Unlike you, I don’t have a short memory. The mark on your left cheek should be a reminder of how you escaped death.”

Merida’s jaw clenched tightly, and she bit her lip, the words clearly hitting a nerve. The tension between them was palpable. They had known each other far longer than I had imagined.

“Nergal,” Merida hissed, her tone low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t have come this far if what you seek didn’t matter so much. But let me be clear—I’m keeping her. And the Silver Crest that hangs around her neck.”

A smirk spread across Nergal’s face, confident and unyielding.

The expression on Merida’s face darkened instantly, her eyes seeming to swirl with shadows. I instinctively took a step back, dread creeping over me.

Then, in a flash, like smoke in the wind, she vanished—only to reappear right before Nergal. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. He stood tall, towering over her as though she were nothing but an obstacle in his path.

She straightened, leaning closer with the aid of her stick. Within seconds, her appearance began to shift. I froze, my breath caught in my throat. Her features twisted, morphing into the same face I had seen in my nightmare.

She was…beautiful. Enchantingly so. Her gray eyes gleamed with an unearthly light, her long lashes fluttering open to reveal a predator's gaze.

My gasp betrayed me, drawing her attention. Her eyes locked onto mine, and her lips curled into a broad, unsettling smile. “You don’t have to worry about that,” she said, her voice smooth yet ominous. “I’ve already gotten what I came for.”

Before I could react, she was suddenly before me, her presence suffocating. My knees buckled as I felt my soul leave my body, my entire being trembling under the weight of her gaze.

But just as swiftly, Nergal moved. He struck her with such force that she flew through the air like a rag doll. Yet, before she could hit the ground, she vanished and reappeared in the exact spot she had been standing moments before.

Her face was contorted with rage now, her calm demeanor completely shattered. “Last chance, Nergal,” she hissed, her voice rising with fury. “Let me have what is mine!”

“Try, if you must,” he replied coldly, turning his back on her and shifting his attention to me.

My eyes, however, were fixed elsewhere. From every corner, figures began emerging from the shadows, stepping out of their hiding places. My chest tightened as I watched their bodies contort and shift, the sound of cracking bones filling the air.

They were transforming—becoming something I had never seen or imagined. Hulking forms covered in fur, with glowing eyes and sharp claws. Their howls pierced the air, chilling me to the core. Werewolves.

“I told you to stay in the room,” Nergal said as he approached, his voice low and firm. He grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet. His crimson eyes bore into mine, filled with both frustration and concern. “Why don’t you ever listen?”

“I…I just…” I stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. My mind was overwhelmed, my body trembling.

“Alpha!” a voice called from behind.

I turned to see the young man who had earlier warned us of the attack. His expression was serious, his stance unwavering. Did he just call him Alpha?

“Take her with you,” Nergal ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Don’t let her out of your sight. If necessary, leave for the North Pole!”

“Yes, Alpha,” the young man replied without hesitation.

“George!” Nergal called as he helped steady me.

“Yes, Alpha,” George responded immediately.

“Do not let anything happen to her,” Nergal commanded, his voice heavy with authority.

George nodded and grabbed my hand firmly, leading me away. But as he pulled me along, I couldn’t resist looking back.

My breath hitched. Nergal’s eyes were still on me, glowing with an intensity that made my stomach churn.

Then, before my very eyes, his body began to shift. His bones cracked audibly, his form expanding as fur sprouted across his skin. Sharp claws extended from his hands, and his mouth elongated, revealing rows of glinting fangs. His crimson eyes burned brighter, his once-human face now a monstrous snarl.

He wasn’t human—not even close.

The others had transformed into wolves, but he…he was something more. Something far more terrifying.

A werebeast.