The person rumored….

Cillian moved and stood before Mordeu. “Let’s see for ourselves, Lord Stregobor.”

Stregobor frowned at what Cillian was meaning to do. 

Mordeu’s heart palpitated, his focus was disoriented. Stregobor’s movements were explicable to everyone in the courtyard. If Mordeu were to change and make even the slightest berserk movement, Stregobor would’ve struck his sword into him. However, Cillian had stood in front of him in a stance of protection. It was like the table had turned on them. Mordeu was initially meant to protect Cillian, but now Cillian was ready to risk his life going head-on in battle against Stregobor if he were to attack Mordeu.

Mordeu cleared his throat and pulled Cillian back. The thought of Cillian protecting him was pleasurable, but he didn’t want anyone to misunderstand. Standing against one of the Lords may come off as rebellion, whether or not he was Alvitir’s son. Mordeu didn’t want to risk it.

“I’m not a danger to anyone. You don’t have to be alert around me. I’m just simply going to transform, not murder everyone here,” Mordeu explained.

“But you can,” Stregobor said.

Mordeu mentally rolled his eyes at him. “Please prepare some clothes for me. I do not appreciate my nudity being seen by others.”

Alvitir gestured to a servant, and she went away to a room, probably to fetch some clothes for Mordeu. He had asked for some clothes because after he changed back to his regular form, he would’ve destroyed his clothes and so rendered himself naked.

Seeing that the issue was already settled, he bent down on one knee, his hands touching the gravel on the courtyard’s grounds. He groaned loudly as he focused his attention on rearranging the bones in his body. 

The sound emanating from him was obviously out of pain. Though it was happening under his will, it still caused him a great deal of pain. He was, after all, rearranging every morsel of his being so he could transform into his true nature. Red fur sprung up from his skin, overshadowing every possible white skin on his body. There was hair everywhere, and his fingers grew ten times longer than usual, his nails replaced with sharp claws dark as night. 

And when he was done, he had totally transformed into a wolf, many times bigger than his regular size. From the looks of the spectators, he was guessed to be bigger than the average wolf—bigger than the biggest wolf. Balor was surely satisfied that he could see for himself: Mordeu’s fur was the colour of blood, crimson and deadly. His fangs were mighty, almost resembling the tusks of elephants. They were sharp, and Balor could vaguely make out the reflection of Cillian on his fangs.

Mordeu growled loudly, almost the sound of a roar.

Cillian fell to the ground. During the transformation, he had shifted from beside Mordeu so he could vividly see for himself the marvelous act of transforming. However, it was nothing like he thought it would be, especially as a vague sense of pain came from his bones as the transformation started, which slowly turned into an excruciating pain that he could no longer try to suppress. He fell to his knees, screaming in pain—an indescribable pain.

Mordeu, in his wolf form, saw this and was suddenly worried. Ayra ran to the aid of her brother, and Alvitir equally rushed to him. Stregobor’s gaze only drifted slightly but soon laid focus on Mordeu again. His grip on his sword was firm. 

Mordeu did not care about him. He was worried about Cillian and irritated that Kai was the one who lifted him from the ground and carried him to a seat. In less than three heartbeats, Mordeu changed back into his regular form, and the servant hastily brought a robe for him.

After covering his nakedness, he ran to where Cillian was laid, frantic and curious, but he met Cillian pushing people away and regulating his breaths.

“What just happened?” Kai asked randomly, but no one seemed to hold the answer to that question. Cillian’s gaze was locked on Mordeu’s.

Alvitir cleared his throat. “This is a drastic turn of events.”

Mordeu couldn’t suppress his curiosity any longer. Stregobor had been alert towards him, Kai almost went into a full panic attack, and Balor’s gaze was the same as someone who saw his parent’s hearts plucked out. “Why? What’s so scary about red wolves? Why are you all acting like this towards me?”

Alvitir let out a breath. His eyes held pity as he stared at Mordeu. “It is because…”

“I’ll tell him myself,” Cillian interrupted his father. “It’ll be best if I tell him. We’re mates, and I can better explain it to him with the patience you do not possess, and he would prefer to hear from the person who has been rumored to kill him.”