Curled in the prickly embrace of the bush, I took a deep breath and parted the leaves with my trembling hands. Shadows flickered in the last light of day, and though dusk softened the edges, it didn’t hide enough.
I wished it had.
The clearing beyond was painted in blood. Bodies lay strewn like broken dolls—limbs twisted, armour shredded, throats gaping open where they’d been torn apart. The air stank of iron and smoke and something far more primal.
A massacre.
And at the heart of all the blood, stood a beast.
A massive wolf heaved with exertion. Blood soaked its fur. Slick and gleaming in the fading light, blood dripped from the wolf’s snout. But as I stared, my stomach twisted with a new kind of dread.
None of that blood belonged to the beast.
The wolf’s gaze swept the clearing like a predator searching for the next threat. I stumbled from the bush. A branch snapped beneath my foot, and the wolf turned.
Its entire body tensed. Those eyes, blazing gold and as bright as wildfire, locked on mine.
Recognition hit me like lightning.
“All black,” I whispered, barely breathing. “With golden eyes…”
My heart thundered. My mouth went dry.
I’d met this wolf before.
“Seems I owe you more than one thank you,” I whispered.
This wasn’t the first time this beast had saved my life.
The first had been a failed assassination, barely a fortnight ago. It felt like another life entirely, but as the killer had drawn back the string on his bow, this wolf had stood between me and possible death. I was immortal, yes. But if the arrow had been poisoned and if it struck my heart…
That night had been the beginning of everything.
A violent shudder rippled under the wolf’s blood-drenched fur.
I leaned forward. Was it injured or was the light playing tricks on me?
No. The light was fine and so were my eyes. My mental state, on the other hand, was questionable, because the only explanation for what the wolf was doing made no sense.
The wolf was shifting.
Not stepping forward. Not bristling with tension.
Changing. Metamorphosizing.
My breath caught in my throat as the air thickened around me. The world narrowed, every sound vanishing but the snap and grind of shifting bones.
The wolf’s spine arched in a violent bow, vertebrae jutting beneath fur as a deep, guttural snarl tore from the wolf’s throat. Limbs stretched and twisted. Muscle stretched, rippled and contorted in sickening motions. The creature was being remade from the inside out.
The wet sound of breaking bones and ripping flesh was unbearable. The smell of blood, fur, and something darker, something old and wild, clung to the air.
Fur receded like waves retreating from a shore, vanishing in patches to reveal olive-toned skin beneath, damp with sweat and streaked in crimson. Claws gave way to fingers, tipped with dark crescents of blood. The creature’s face contorted, muzzle shortening and the jaw snapping as the bones realigned with a final, echoing crack.
Silence settled over the forest once again.
Where the beast had crouched moments before, a naked man now knelt in the shadows. His shoulders rose and fell in labored breaths. Steam curled from his bare skin. Blood clung to him like paint, streaked across his chest and hair.
He braced his hands on the forest floor and slowly lifted his head until his golden gaze met mine. His eyes were no longer fully wolf, yet not fully human, either.
