The jungle was no longer silent. It breathed with him. Every leaf shimmered as though whispering his name. The transformation had passed, but Mael still felt it pulsing under his skin—a second heartbeat, primal and hungry.He staggered forward, barefoot and trembling. His clothes hung in tatters. Blood—his or another's—streaked his arms. Branches parted for him as if the forest itself recognized what he had become. Or feared it.
As he reached the clearing where the moonlight spilled like silver fire, he collapsed to his knees. The blood moon loomed above, huge and pulsing, as if mocking him. He buried his face in his hands, desperate to remember who he was before this. But memory blurred—his name, his past, even his voice. All of it felt… distant.A twig snapped behind him.
Mael's head snapped up, his senses sharpening unnaturally. He sniffed the air—smoke, sweat, and something ancient. A figure emerged from the tree line, cloaked in black. His eyes glowed red—not from the moonlight, but from something far worse.
Mael tried to speak, but his voice cracked. "Who… are you?"
The stranger stopped several paces away. "You felt it, didn't you? The hunger. The shift." His voice was calm but carried weight, like thunder beneath water.
"I didn't ask for this," Mael growled.
"None of us do." The stranger tilted his head. "But you're not like the others. You survived your first shift alone. That means something."
Mael stood, fists clenched. "I'm not one of you."
The man's lips curled slightly. "Then why do your hands still shake when you smell blood?"
Mael's heart pounded. He looked at his fingers—stained red, nails jagged like claws. It was true. The rage, the instincts—they hadn't left.
"Who are you?" he asked again.
The stranger stepped closer. "My name is Kael. I've been watching you since the day the seal broke."
Mael's breath caught. "Seal?"
Kael nodded. "The curse didn't just happen. It was bound—chained centuries ago. But something weakened it. You, Mael, were the spark. You woke it."
"I didn't mean to," Mael said quietly, more to himself than Kael.
Kael crouched beside him, placing a small silver pendant in Mael's palm. It burned cold against his skin. "You'll need this. It's the only thing keeping the curse from taking over completely."
Mael looked at the pendant. A crescent moon engraved with runes shimmered faintly. "What happens if I lose it?"
"You won't just turn," Kael said. "You'll become something worse. Mindless. Hollow. A beast ruled by the blood moon."
The jungle moaned around them. A distant howl echoed through the trees. Not human. Not animal. Something in between.
Kael stood, his red eyes fixed on the sky. "They'll come for you now—the others. Not all of them want you alive."
"Why?"
"Because you're different," Kael said. "You're not just cursed… you're chosen."
Mael felt the weight of that word. Chosen. It sounded like a lie. A cruel joke.
Kael turned to leave. "Stay alive until the next full moon. If you do, I'll tell you everything."
"And if I don't?"
Kael paused at the edge of the clearing. "Then the jungle will bury your bones, and no one will remember your name."
Then he was gone—swallowed by the shadows as if he were never there.
Mael stared at the pendant in his hand. The runes glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his breath. His journey wasn't over.
It had just begun.
And the blood moon… was still watching.