Prologue

            The legend says that if a gray werewolf’s fur turns blood red, that wolf is filled with rage and vengeance. There is no light in its heart, and it will continue its despair and loneliness for the rest of its life.

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            The storm that night was so strong, yet it was not enough to wash away the blood on the ground.

               Despite the continuous falling of the rain, the moon shone brightly above. But it was not displaying its usual calming illumination — it was bleeding red.

               The faint screaming of death was heard all around the northern castle. Children could be heard crying and adults fighting for their lives.

               In one of the castle hallways, the northern alpha could be seen running while carrying a lady in his arms. Several older and younger werewolves were also following him.

               “Bring the lady to safety,” he told one of his subordinate wolves. “I will return to the field to eliminate the enemies.”

               When he was about to leave, the lady cried, “My alpha, please don’t leave me. I am scared.”

               The alpha gazed at her and took her hand for a moment. “I promise you I will come back. Please wait for me.”

               Although filled with tears on her face, the lady nodded.

               He looked at his subordinates and whispered, “Now, go!”

               The wolves quickly followed his order and ran away.

               The alpha then carefully wandered through the castle hallways, looking for the enemies who launched a sneak attack on their territory.

               He mercilessly killed those unlucky ones who met him along the way.

               “You can never take down the northern pack!” He repeatedly shouted as he stabbed the hearts of unknown enemies using his claws.

               Suddenly, an arrow pierced through his shoulder, making him weak.

               “A silver arrow?” He whispered as he glanced at that thing wedged into his body.

               He was about to remove the arrow when suddenly he felt a sharp blade pointed at his throat.

               “Too bad,” a woman’s voice could be heard. “I missed your heart with that silver arrow.”

               The alpha’s chest painfully throbbed upon hearing that voice.

               That voice — he could not be wrong.

               “Y- you…” he murmured as he gradually turned his head to look at the woman.

               “Do not look at me!” the woman shouted, noticing his action. “Don’t you dare look at me!”

               He stopped as he whispered, “I- Is that really you?”

               “This is the day you will die!” She said, trying to evade his question. “I will kill you!”

               With his heart beating so fast, he held the blade pointed at his throat and faced the woman.

               “I told you not to look at me, you piece of shit!” she angrily yelled, but it was too late — the alpha had already seen her.

               She wore a black robe with a black mask attached to her face.

               Their eyes met for a moment — a moment that filled with silence.

               Suddenly, a relatively strong wind passed them, removing the black robe covering the woman’s head.

               The alpha’s eyes widened in bewilderment.

               “R-red,” he whispered. “Blood-red hair.”             

               “I- I will kill you,” the woman muttered.

               “Do you want it?” The alpha asked her in a weak voice. “Do you really want to kill me?”

               “I wake up every single day just for this moment,” she answered. “I want you to die a miserable death with my face as the last thing you will ever see.”

               The alpha smiled — a bitter smile. “Do it,” he said. “Kill me.”

               The woman replied nothing and just stared at him.

               And although it was raining hard that night, the moonlight shone on them. He could see the woman’s eyes reddened in tears.

               Then he pressed the blade close to his throat and smiled at her. “Kill me now. You want it, right?”

               With her hands shaking, and her voice on the verge of breaking, the woman shouted, “Beg for your life, you fool!”

               “No,” he said in a weak and gentle voice. “It’s yours.”

               And after that, the whole place became silent.