Chapter 3 Chapter 3

POV Astrid

Present...

All I could do was watch my mother die, and although I longed to run to her, I knew I couldn’t. I needed her sacrifice not to be in vain, for what had happened to have a purpose.

I began moving among the tents, hiding within the shadows that still covered everything, and once I left the camp, I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t care about the branches with sharp thorns that scratched my skin or the rocks that injured my feet; I only knew I had to get away as quickly as possible.

From afar, I could hear the harsh metallic screech of swords clashing against one another. The howls and ferocious growls of the wolves sounded so close that I almost felt them at my back, but above all, I could smell the sharp, acrid scent of blood saturating everything around me.

I was trying to reach the place my mother had told me about when suddenly I saw my father running straight toward me. At that sight, my first instinct was to throw myself to the ground, hiding among the bushes and praying with all my strength that he wouldn’t see me. I knew that even in the middle of a war, he would surely find the time to punish me for my escape—and he would be more than ruthless in doing so.

Then I saw someone else appear in the distance, emerging from the battlefield, dodging the constant sword strikes meant to kill him—and if he had been a normal man, they might have succeeded. However, I knew very well that he wasn’t, and not only because of his height and powerful build.

I watched as several blows landed on their target, inflicting severe wounds, and yet he managed to escape that slaughter. Wounded, but alive—and as he moved away, I saw how the torn flesh of his skin slowly began to close.

I knew about the healing abilities of werewolves, but I had never expected anything like that. The sight left me more than astonished, and although I couldn’t admit it, also in awe.

He was running toward where we were at great speed. My father was moving forward, unaware of the danger approaching him, and although I wished I could warn him, I knew that would only be a mistake.

In less than a minute, that man caught up to him, striking him hard in the back and knocking him violently to the ground. I hadn’t expected it, because my father offered no resistance or attempt to avoid it—he simply endured it.

When he lifted his head, I could see fury in his eyes, but when he turned and came face to face with that man, the expression nearly vanished. I couldn’t say for certain that what he felt was fear, but his presence had clearly affected him.

Seeing him up close, I noticed his hands—hands capable of destroying a man if he so desired—and his eyes, glowing like beacons at dawn. There was such fury on his face that it was clear he intended to kill him, and something told me there was very little my father could do to defend himself. Not if brute strength was involved, as his was insignificant compared to the other’s. Cunning, however, was a card he could play to his advantage, and that much was clear—my father was an extremely intelligent man.

As for me, I remained hidden just a few meters away, terrified of being discovered—not only by my father now, but also frightened of what that man might do to me.

—Get up. Move, coward —the man demanded with a voice that was barely human.

His face was twisted with rage, his breathing fast, as though he could barely contain the wolf within him. At that point, it became more than clear to me that he was a man from Fangaria—a werewolf.

—Don’t do something foolish —my father pleaded in a trembling voice, growing fearful in a way I never believed possible for him.

He seemed to be trying to calm him, but the man didn’t care. Nothing he could say seemed capable of convincing him—that much was painfully obvious.

—Do it quickly, or I’ll kill you just like this… like the animal you are —he shouted, losing his patience.

—I’m giving you the chance to die like a warrior, facing your enemy and knowing you were defeated—which is far more than you deserve —he demanded.

Something about his attitude made me think he was doing it for himself, to fully savor my father’s death.

I then watched as my father slowly rose to his feet—fearfully—something I never believed I would see. His arms were raised in surrender, but that didn’t seem to matter to the man before him.

—Please, don’t kill me —my father begged, the expression of superiority and ferocity that once defined him fading away. Now he was nothing more than a lamb pleading for his life.

—Don’t bother. Nothing you say will make me change my mind. Your death sentence is sealed, and I’m only here to carry it out —he assured him, taking pleasure in seeing him behave so pathetically.

I couldn’t deny it, even to myself—a part of me wanted to see him suffer. Deep down, I hoped he would endure at least a fraction of what he had put me through all those years.

—I’ll give you anything you want, just let me live —my father offered, trying to bribe him, as though such a thing were possible.

—You’d better stop trying, because that won’t happen. I advise you to use the little time you have left to beg forgiveness from whatever god you believe in, because only he can grant it to you —the man declared with absolute certainty, as he began to deliberately transform one of his hands.

Soon, sharp and deadly claws emerged as his hand grotesquely deformed. As far as I knew, they could only fully transform during a full moon, which made that one of their few weaknesses. However, that night there was no full moon—which meant either everything we knew was wrong, or that man was far more powerful than he appeared.

—Now walk —he ordered, his hand ready to tear him in half the very moment he felt like it.

—Where are you taking me? —my father asked as he began to walk ahead of him.

He spoke as though he had the right to ask, let alone receive an answer—and he didn’t. Not when he was completely at that man’s mercy.

—To the battlefield —he replied, making my father stop and turn to look at him quickly, as if he had uttered absolute madness.

—I want your people to see you beg for your life. I want to disgrace your name, your house, and your legacy —he explained, making himself painfully clear.

—I’d rather you kill me right here —my father admitted, looking him straight in the eyes, all the fear he once felt seemingly gone.

Unfortunately for him, that didn’t impress the man in the slightest, because beneath his composed exterior, a deep fear was still visible in his gaze.

That caused a smile to spread across his opponent’s face.

—If that’s what you want, then fine by me —he agreed, raising his hand, ready to do it at that very moment.