Doom is coming

The sky was dark save for the moon that hung low in the sky it casts a strange glow over the kingdom.

Inside the palace, the tension was real. It was the kind of tension that shook even the strongest of men. It was the usual Fortnight ceremony where the wizard takes a look into the future of the kingdom.

The king and his subjects watched as he performed his rituals, making strange sounds and incantations.

The wizard's screams echoed through the huge hall, a sound that would haunt the memories of those who heard it for years to come. "Doom! Doom is coming!" he cried, his voice trembling with fear. "A werewolf will bring ruin to us all!"

King Alaric's face immediately turned pale, flushed with fear and dread. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the expressions of horror on the faces of his subjects. Witches, vampires, and humans alike all shared the same dread.

Without wasting time, the king raised his hand and issued the decree that would set off a chain of events no one could have predicted. "Kill them all," he commanded, his voice cold and resolute. "Every last werewolf in the land."

The orders were carried out swiftly without hesitation. Soldiers marched into the night, their torches shining like hellfire as they descended upon the unsuspecting werewolves.

The sounds of battle filled the air—howls of pain, the clash of steel, and the cries of the innocent. It was a massacre, pure and simple, and the kingdom would never be the same.

In a small cottage just outside the forest, a young couple sat in stunned silence. Their newborn daughter lay swaddled in a crib, her tiny breaths the only sound in the room. They stared at the tiny circle in her arm. They had given birth to a werewolf.

The woman, Elara, clutched her husband's hand tightly. "We need to leave," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Now."

Draven nodded, . "Together," he said firmly. "We go together."

Elara winced as a sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She had just given birth, and the strain of labor still weighed heavily on her body. But there was no time to rest. They had to move, and move quickly. Draven helped her to her feet, and together they began to gather their belongings.

"Hurry," Elara urged, glancing out the window nervously. "I can hear them coming."

Draven picked up their baby girl, placing her protectively in his arms. "We'll take the bush path," he said. "It's safer."

They went out through the back door and into the darkness, moving as quickly as they could. Elara fell several times, her legs weak from the stress of giving birth. Each time, Draven caught her, lifting her back to her feet with a gentleness that showed the urgency of their situation.

"Go on without me," Elara pleaded, her voice breaking. "Take our daughter and run. Save her."

Draven shook his head, his jaw set in a stance showing that, that wasn't even an option. "No," he said firmly. "We stay together."

But the sound of barking dogs and the shine of torchlight growing closer told them they didn't have much time. Elara's heart raced as she looked into her husband's eyes, seeing the resolve there. She knew what she had to do.

Closing her eyes, she began to chant softly under her breath.

"Xentilofico instaantico..."

Her hands trembled as she wove a spell, the energy crackling around her like static electricity. Slowly, she began to fade, her form becoming translucent.

"Save her and save yourself my love. I can't afford to be the reason you both don't make it. I love you."

"No!" Draven screamed, reaching out to grab her. "Elara, don't!"

But it was too late. She was gone, leaving him alone with their baby in his arms. He felt a surge of panic, but forced himself to remain calm. He had to get their daughter to safety.

Draven ran through the forest, the sounds of pursuit growing louder behind him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles burning with tiredness. But he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Not until he knew his daughter was safe. Not until he was certain she would be well take care of.

Finally, he arrived. he saw it just ahead of him—a small temple hidden deep within the trees. The Blue candles shone right in front of it, casting a strange glow. Draven ran towards it, his heart pounding in his chest. He burst through the doors and rushed inside, finding a cradle already prepared just as they had seen in the vision.

He placed their daughter gently inside, her tiny fists clutching at the air. "Sleep, my sweet," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "Daddy will keep you safe."

As he started to say the magic words that would take her to safety, an arrow flew past his ear and struck the wall behind him. He had hardly any time to react when another arrow hit him right in the chest. The sharp pain shot through his body like a lightning bolt, making him stagger backward.

Draven felt blood oozing from the wound. He fell to his knees but refused to give up. With every bit of strength he had left in him, he kept saying the spell, even though his voice was getting weaker with each word he spoke.

"Dekekrankem delenfoouud."

"Please," he cried out, his sight becoming fuzzy. "Please, just let her be safe."

Everything around him started to spin like a dizzying ride, and he felt his consciousness beginning to break apart. But he fought to stay focused, determined not to let go until he knew his baby daughter was out of danger. Finally, with one last push, he whispered the final part of the incantation.

In a bright flash of light, the baby vanished, leaving Draven all alone in the temple. He fell to the floor, his body shaking as blood continued to flow from his wounds. His vision dimmed, and he realized that his time was short.

"Elara," he managed to whisper, struggling to get the words out. "I'm coming."

With one final, shaky breath, Draven closed his eyes. He felt his life slipping away, but he held on tightly to the hope that he had saved her.