The woods held their breath.
Mael stood in the clearing, still reeling from Selona's chilling words in the previous episode: "You are not just cursed. You are chosen."
The phrase gnawed at him like a parasite, digging deeper with each heartbeat. Beneath the blood-streaked sky, his body remained still, but his soul twisted in turmoil. Was this what it meant to be hunted by fate? Chosen—for what? Damnation? Destruction?
Selona moved beside him, her cloak brushing against the grass as she knelt and unfurled a scroll that pulsed faintly under the moonlight. Its edges were old, charred, and inked with symbols that seemed to twitch and shift on their own. "This prophecy," she said, voice calm but strained, "was hidden beneath the Temple of Fangs. Written in blood, buried in fear. It speaks of a child born under a shattered blood moon—a child unlike any other. A child whose howl would wake the dead and silence the gods."
Mael's throat went dry. He couldn't look away from the parchment. Every part of it felt… familiar. Like he'd seen it before—in dreams, or perhaps in the nightmare that was his new life. "So I'm a myth now?" he asked bitterly. "A cursed fable in flesh and blood?"
Selona's voice dropped lower. "Not a myth. A warning."
The wind howled through the trees, carrying a scent that made Mael flinch—his own blood. A sudden, searing pain erupted from the scar on his shoulder. He staggered, clutching his side. The beast inside him stirred—eager, wild, no longer waiting for permission. His bones bent unnaturally; muscles throbbed and stretched. Claws slid out before he could suppress them.
"No... not now!" he gasped. "The moon—it's not even full!"
Selona took a fearful step back. Her eyes weren't looking at Mael—they were watching what he was becoming. "This shouldn't be happening. Your change—it's breaking the lunar cycle. That's impossible... unless—"
"Unless I'm not just a werewolf anymore," Mael finished through gritted teeth, feeling his jaw elongate. One eye remained human; the other burned gold with primal hunger. His body was caught between forms—man and beast—yet neither could claim him fully. The transformation was incomplete, unstable... terrifying.
In flashes, Mael saw again the silver-cloaked woman from his vision. Her face hidden. Her presence like a blade in the mist. The blood moon above her, fractured into shards, raining crimson across a forgotten forest. He realized now: it wasn't just a vision. It was a memory waiting to return.
"Something's waking up inside me," Mael whispered, his voice fractured like his reflection in a stream. "Something ancient."
He turned from Selona, ashamed of the half-formed monster he had become. He ran blindly through the forest, the trees blurring as his senses sharpened, heart pounding like a war drum. The river's edge met him like an old friend—cold, steady, honest. He dropped to his knees and stared into the water. What stared back was not human. Not entirely beast. It was… something else.
A shadow with Mael's sorrow. A creature with Mael's pain.
"Am I still Mael?" he asked his reflection, voice hoarse. "Or just a monster wearing his skin?"
Footsteps crunched softly behind him. Selona emerged from the shadows, but she didn't come close. She didn't dare. "That depends on the choices you make next."
But Mael's reflection wasn't the only thing watching him now. The air changed. Thickened. The forest grew quiet again—unnaturally so. A new scent filled his nostrils—metallic, cold, and sharp. His instincts screamed danger.
Selona's face paled. "We're not alone," she whispered.
A low growl echoed through the trees, and Mael rose with a snarl. His half-shifted form trembling with rage and confusion. "Who is it?" he demanded.
"They're called Bloodhounds," Selona said, voice shaking. "Warriors of the Lunar Order. They hunt anything that dares to defy the moon's law. And right now... that's you."
Mael stood tall despite the pain. His claws curled, teeth bared. The forest had betrayed him. The moon had cursed him. Now the world would try to bury him. But something in his blood had awakened—something that refused to kneel.
Then, for the first time sin
ce his curse began… Mael wanted to fight.