Chapter One: The First Glimmer of the Wolf's Shadow

The night wind swept across the desolate wilderness like a knife, biting cold and tinged with the stench of wild beasts. The black forest lay silently upon the earth, like a slumbering giant; between the interlaced shadows of trees, an occasional low wolf’s howl pierced the night, sending a chill through the heart.

Kale stood at the edge of the village, gripping his longbow tightly, his gaze fixed on the depths of the forest. In the moonlight, his figure cast a long shadow across the soil and withered grass, as if melding into that darkness.

This was the second villager to vanish this month.

Kale’s brow furrowed, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s. The missing villagers were usually last seen walking alone at night; by dawn, only tattered clothing and splattered blood would be found at the forest’s edge, never a body. The elders of the town were convinced that it was all connected to the age-old legend—the curse of the werewolf.

Kale didn’t put much faith in such ancient tales, but he knew that beasts did not attack humans without cause. Something must have awakened the malice within them.

“Kale, aren’t you going back?” came a deep voice behind him. It was Reis, the village hunter, carrying a freshly slain deer across his shoulders. Blood dripped from the deer’s body, staining his boots red.

Kale turned and offered a faint smile. “You’re not leaving either.”

Reis shrugged. “Without prey, we’ll go hungry.”

“It’s just… the forest has been too restless lately.” Kale looked into the darkness, his eyes somber. “Don’t you feel it?”

Reis sighed. “The wolves are just hungry. You know how it is—every year before winter they get restless, and the villagers have grown used to it.”

Kale shook his head. He knew this was different. A wolf pack wouldn’t drag away its prey like a ghost, leaving behind only blood, vanishing without a trace.

“Have you heard the rumor?” Reis suddenly lowered his voice, drawing closer, a hint of unspeakable fear in his expression.

“Which rumor?”

“On the night of the full moon, werewolves roam the forest, hunting for living flesh and blood to sate their unending hunger.” Reis licked his cracked lips. “Maybe those missing villagers… became wolves themselves.”

Kale frowned. “Stop talking nonsense. Let’s go back.”

Reis glanced at him, nodded, and walked away with the deer, his footsteps fading into the night.

Kale remained where he was, gazing at the forest, a strange unease rising in his heart.

The night deepened. The moon climbed to its zenith, casting a silvery glow across the land. The black forest seemed draped in a cold, austere veil.

Kale turned to leave, but as he lifted his foot, a low, guttural growl reached his ears—not the call of an ordinary wolf, but something deeper, more menacing.

He spun around, hand instinctively grasping his bow, eyes scanning the darkness for the source. Deep in the trees, a pair of eyes glimmered with an eerie blue light, watching him—like a devil lurking in the night.

Kale’s breath caught in his throat.

He began to retreat, hoping to slip from the creature’s sight. But the blue eyes did not waver; instead, they drew nearer. Under the moonlight, a massive black wolf stepped out from the forest. It was far larger than any ordinary wolf, its limbs thick with muscle, claws gouging deep marks in the earth, blood dripping from its jaws as if fresh from a hunt.

Kale swiftly drew his bow and aimed at the beast. Yet the black wolf only stared at him, its gaze flickering with an uncanny light—almost as if… there was a trace of humanity in those eyes.

“This can’t be…” Kale whispered to himself. Years of hunting among the wolves, and never had he seen a creature so strange.

In the next instant, the black wolf let out a fierce snarl and lunged at Kale, moving with blinding speed. Kale reacted instinctively, releasing an arrow that shot straight for the wolf’s chest. But in midair, the beast twisted, evading the arrow, and then brought a massive paw crashing down on Kale’s shoulder.

Pain exploded through him; he was flung to the ground, his bow flying several yards away. Struggling to rise, he saw the wolf advance, its rancid breath hot on his face. Kale watched as the wolf’s bloody jaws opened wide, and for a moment, despair gripped his heart.

Just then, a flash of silver cut through the night—a dagger struck the wolf’s foreleg with perfect precision. The beast howled in agony and turned, fleeing swiftly into the darkness.

Panting, Kale looked up to see a woman in a gray cloak quietly withdrawing her dagger. In the moonlight, her face was veiled, mysterious.

“You…” Kale gritted his teeth, rising to his feet and clutching the bleeding wound on his shoulder. “Who are you?”

She approached, her gaze cold and calm. “If you wish to live, never linger alone at the forest’s edge by night.”

With that, she turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Kale standing alone in the night wind, feeling the burning pain in his shoulder.

He looked down at the blood on the ground; it shimmered faintly with a silvery light.

He knew then—this was no ordinary wolf’s blood.

It was the blood of a werewolf.