Part 1

“That night, the sky was neither blue nor black. The full moon, which should have glowed bright white, had turned blood red. A pack of wolves ran and howled in fear as the Alpha—its fur jet black and eyes the color of blood—approached.

“The Alpha rampaged, biting anyone who stood in its way. It had begun to go mad, just as the stories of its curse foretold. It attacked anyone that entered its sight. It didn’t care whether it was an elder, a woman, or a child—everyone was fair game.

“Screams of terror, the cracking of broken bones, and the sound of flesh being torn apart became a soft dirge in that silent night.

“War howls merged with the hopeless wails of blood-soaked surrender. The Alpha growled, meeting the pleading, begging gazes with a piercing glare. Forgiveness was no longer an option.

“Blood for blood, life for life.” The Alpha growled inwardly, knowing the words would echo in the minds of its enemies—because it had allowed their minds to connect with his.

“Forgive us.” The pleas came in many tones—whimpering, begging, desperate. But the Alpha’s heart had turned cold. He chose indifference.

He bared his large, sharp fangs in warning, ready to shred the cowardly wolves into unrecognizable forms—until suddenly, a blinding light blocked his vision and—"

“Stop scaring the children with silly stories like that.”

A firm pat on her shoulder forced Crystal to swallow the rest of her tale. She turned to Maera—the one who had interrupted her fun—narrowing her eyes sharply, but her friend simply showed no remorse.

“You’re basically teaching them violence,” Maera scolded, clearly displeased.

Crystal pouted in frustration, as did the children who had been listening to her story. But Maera’s firm gaze left them no choice—they obeyed and dispersed when told to.

“Oh, come on, Mae. It’s just a bedtime story,” Crystal defended herself. “Besides, didn’t you see how much they liked spooky tales like that? Right, kids?”

She turned to the group of children—ranging from eight to twelve years old—with a mischievous glint in her eyes, receiving enthusiastic nods in return.

Maera rolled her eyes and walked away, carrying a pile of sheets she was about to wash.

“Just give them normal stories, Crys.”

“What kind of stories then? Cinderella or Rapunzel? Those are only suitable for girls. And stories like Batman or samurais—don’t they also contain violence?” Crystal pointed out. And she wasn’t wrong. Boys these days didn’t care much for cartoons anymore; they preferred superhero stories which—of course—always included some form of fighting.

“At the very least, don’t give them nightmares,” Maera argued again.

“Nightmares, Mae? Come on, don’t be ridiculous. I was just telling them a werewolf story. Why would they have nightmares about that?”

Maera stopped in her tracks, turning to look at her best friend with a warning glare that made Crystal instantly fall silent.

“Fine. No more werewolf stories,” Crystal said, pretending to zip her lips and toss the invisible zipper away.

Maera took a deep breath and exhaled sharply before turning away again, continuing to carry the pile of laundry with her.

“I’m sorry. I’m just being overly sensitive,” she muttered a few seconds later.

“Why? Did you have another nightmare?” Crystal finally asked. Maera nodded in response as they walked toward the backyard, where the washing area and clothesline stood.

“What did you dream this time?” Crystal asked, curious.

“Still the same dream,” Maera replied flatly, but Crystal could sense the tension in her voice, however faint.

“Chased by a wolf again?”

“Yeah. Jet-black fur and golden brown eyes,” Maera answered as she poured laundry soap into a large tub filled with water and a pile of sheets, then began stomping on them to wash. Crystal took off her shoes and stepped into the tub to help her wash the sheets.

“Same sequence again?” Crystal asked, intrigued, and Maera nodded once more.

“The first time, I just brushed it off as a bad dream. But now, I’ve lost count of how many times it’s come to me. I’m scared that one day it might actually come true,” she sighed wearily. Maera tried to sound casual, but the fine hairs on the back of her neck and arms were beginning to rise.

“Lately, I’ve become paranoid. I keep feeling like someone’s watching me,” she added, still not looking at Crystal.

“Did you tell your grandmother about the dream?”

Maera shook her head.

“Why not?” Crystal asked, surprised.

“Come on, you already know the reason. Grandma’s sick, and if I tell her about my dream, she’ll end up more paranoid than I am,” Maera replied softly.

“You’re right,” Crystal said, understanding. She knew exactly what Maera’s grandmother was like—and Maera was right. Isabel Veilthorn would definitely panic more than Maera. And when that happened, her behavior would become unbearable—overly protective to the point of being super annoying.

But in truth, the behavior of the woman in her early sixties was somewhat understandable, considering she had witnessed the unnatural death of her daughter-in-law, and the tragic loss of her own daughter—Maera’s biological mother—not long after.

“Do you know what my dream means?” Maera asked, turning to Crystal with a curious look.

“I’m not really sure. I don’t know much about that stuff. But when I asked my mom once, she said the appearance of the Grim—or the Black Shuck—is believed to be a sign of death. If not us, then someone close to us might die. But you know, that’s just superstition. Like the story I just told the kids. It’s not entirely true. There’s no such thing as werewolves in this world.” Crystal tried to reassure her friend.

“But you believe vampires exist,” Maera teased, making Crystal cover her mouth in embarrassment.

“They’re just mythical creatures, Mae. Come on, I was only joking when I said I believed in them,” she replied, nudging Maera’s arm with a playful smile.

Maera didn’t respond—just offered the familiar understanding smile she always gave her best friend.

“I’m just scared that if something really happens to me or to Grandma, then I—”

“Oh come on, Mae. Nothing’s going to happen to you or your grandmother. You’ll both be just fine. She’ll live a long, long life—she’ll be around for another hundred years,” Crystal said, fully aware of her best friend’s deep-rooted fear.

Maera was an orphan raised by her grandmother. Her father had died in a tragic hunting accident when Maera was seven years old, and three years later, her mother passed away from a mysterious illness. Since then, she had grown up with her grandmother—the only family she had left.

“What’s going on? Did something happen?”

A familiar voice made the two girls turn their heads. They saw the orphanage director approaching, accompanied by two tall, well-built men with strikingly handsome faces.

‘Hell, who are they? Are they princes sent from heaven for me and Maera?’

That was roughly what ran through Crystal’s mind as she examined the two men being shown around by the head of the orphanage.

“Are you bullying her again, Miss Caelwyn?”

Crystal’s attention snapped back to the director’s voice.

She rolled her eyes before responding.

“Oh, come on, Miss Clarks. I’m not a bully. Why do you always assume I’m the one picking on Maera? Why don’t you ever consider the opposite?” she grumbled in frustration.

“Because between the two of you, I’m more certain you’re the one causing trouble rather than Maera,” Rowena Clarks replied sharply, making Maera chuckle.

“Sure, she doesn’t cause trouble. But just wait—when she finally does, it’ll be more shocking than anything I’ve ever done,” Crystal said, prompting Maera and Rowena to shake their heads.

“Alright, just get back to work,” Rowena Clarks said, ushering her guests away.

“Mae, did you see them?” Crystal asked once she was sure Rowena and her guests were out of earshot.

“See who?” Maera asked, choosing to return her focus to their chores.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, didn’t you see how gorgeous they were? Didn’t you see their faces? I swear, even Michelangelo’s sculptures can’t compare.”

“I didn’t really pay attention,” Maera replied in a small voice—clearly hiding something from her friend, though Crystal didn’t seem to notice.

“Their aura... so sexy.” Crystal continued, making Maera giggle and roll her eyes.

“They’re like the main characters in the novels I always read,” she went on dreamily.

“Tall, broad-shouldered, sexy alphas in human form, and thick-furred, sharp-fanged beasts when they shift into wolves. Blood-sucking vampires whose gaze alone can melt your knees, making you willingly offer your neck to be bitten. And powerful demons who make you want to give up the entire world just to live with them in hell.”

“Stop fantasizing, Crys. You know creatures like that don’t exist,” Maera scolded her with a hint of sarcasm.

“Stop ruining my fantasies, Mae,” Crystal shot back with a pout.

“Just admit it—you believe vampires, witches, demons, and werewolves are real too.” Crystal gave Maera an accusatory look.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the one who said they’re just fictional characters from novels,” Maera scoffed, mocking her.

But just as the last word left her lips, Maera noticed one of the two men walking alongside Miss Clarks suddenly turn his head and flash her a chilling grin.

It was as if he had been listening to the entire conversation between her and Crystal.