The rogue lunged.
Its claws sliced through the air, inches from my throat. Its breath hit me like a blast of rotten meat, hot and foul, thick enough to make me gag. My body screamed to collapse, to curl into the dirt, to let it be over.
But there was no Alpha here to shield me.
No pack to form a wall of teeth and claws.
No bond to anchor me.
Only me.
And the System's cold whisper, etched into my bones, pulsed again in the silence.
Survive.
I twisted hard to the side. My heel slipped on damp leaves, my shoulder slammed into a tree trunk. Bark tore skin from my back. The beast's talons screeched against my flickering Moonlight Veil, silver sparks crackling into the darkness. The rogue yelped, staggered, then dropped low again, snarling, circling me with the patience of hunger.
My chest heaved. My throat burned. The jagged stick I clutched shook in my bleeding hands. It was laughable as a weapon, and the rogue knew it. My wolf whimpered inside me, tail curled under, instincts shrieking that I was prey.
The rogue's ribs jutted sharp through its patchy hide. Mangy fur hung in clumps. Its yellow eyes never blinked, never shifted away. Saliva strung in ropes between its jaws, dripping to the ground where it hissed faintly against my veil.
The shield flickered again. Dimmer. Thinner. I could feel it fraying with every heartbeat.
It wouldn't last.
I staggered back a step. Panic gnawed my ribs. My lungs clutched for air. And then silver text cut through the dark, burning across my vision:
> [Hidden Condition Met: Blood Awakening]
Shift into your wolf form or die.
My breath froze. My heart stuttered.
Shift? Now?
No. It wasn't supposed to be like this. My Awakening had been stolen already, twisted into humiliation by Darius's rejection. I had imagined it differently my whole life: safe in the circle, the pack around me, the Goddess's light steady overhead. I was meant to emerge to cheers, to my mate's proud smile, to the acceptance of my people.
Not this.
Not here.
Not alone.
The rogue lunged again.
I flung myself sideways. My ribs screamed as I hit the ground. The beast's claws shredded bark where I had stood. Earth sprayed into my face.
And then the burning began.
It started at my throat. My crescent mark blazed hot against my skin. Fire licked through my veins, spreading fast, a flood of agony and heat. My spine arched. My scream ripped into the night—only halfway through it warped, cracking, deepening, until it came out a howl.
Bones popped wet and sharp. My nails split, lengthened, blackened into hooked claws. Silver fur erupted in painful bursts, stabbing out of my flesh. My jaw ached as my teeth pushed longer, sharper, until I could feel blood welling from where my own tongue scraped against them.
I clawed at the ground. Dirt tore beneath me. My body convulsed, twisting, reshaping.
The rogue froze, hackles rising. Its growl faltered, unease in its yellow eyes. It knew. It could smell the shift forcing its way through me.
The fire tore deeper. My arms buckled, warping into forelegs. My chest caved, reshaped. My lungs expanded, the world flooding with scents sharp and overwhelming—soil wet with rot, bark thick with sap, the rogue's stench so strong it choked me.
I staggered up on all fours. My claws sank into the earth. My vision sharpened with brutal clarity until I could see every twitch of the rogue's muscles, every ripple of its mangy fur.
I caught my reflection in a puddle at my paws.
Silver-white fur. Glowing faintly as though lit from within. Eyes like molten moons, twin orbs blazing bright. At my throat, the crescent mark burned, throbbing in sync with my heart, etched deeper than blood.
My wolf was not ordinary.
The rogue faltered. Its body hunched low, steps hesitant for the first time.
A growl rolled out of my chest, deep and resonant, shaking my ribs. The sound wasn't mine. It wasn't the frightened girl who had been spat on and cast out. It was something else. Something older. Something stronger.
The rogue's ears pinned back.
No fear.
Not anymore.
I lunged.
The ground split beneath my paws as I slammed into the rogue. My fangs sank deep into its shoulder. Silver sparks exploded where my bite met its corrupted flesh. The beast screamed, thrashing wildly, claws slashing across my flank. Pain flared, sharp and burning—but the Moonlight Veil roared to life along my fur, silver fire scorching its talons. The rogue howled, jerking back, flesh smoking where it touched me.
I bit harder. Bone cracked between my jaws. Blood flooded my mouth—hot, metallic, bitter—but instead of weakening me, it filled me with strength. My muscles coiled tighter. My heart pounded louder.
The rogue shrieked, its voice breaking into a choking gurgle as I ripped free. I tore sinew and muscle with me, the taste of its rot lingering on my tongue.
It staggered. Its legs buckled. It crashed heavily into the dirt, stilling at last.
For a heartbeat, silence pressed heavy over the clearing.
I stood over the corpse, chest heaving, silver fur matted with blood. My claws carved furrows in the dirt. My breath poured white into the night. My fangs dripped crimson, steaming faintly in the cold air.
And then the System's voice whispered.
> [Quest Progress: 30%]
[Stat Unlocked: Strength +2, Agility +2]
[Skill Acquired: Moonfang Bite]
Your wolf form's bite channels moonlight, dealing additional damage to enemies tainted by madness.
The text burned across my vision. My body trembled—not with fear, not with weakness—but with something else surging through me.
Power.
I lifted my head slowly, tasting blood and silver on my tongue.
Not weak.
Not worthless.
Not rejected.
A howl ripped out of me, fierce and raw. The sound tore up through the branches, echoing, shattering the silence of the forest. It was not a cry of pain. It was not mourning.
It was a promise.
The forest answered.
One howl. Then another. Dozens, rising from every direction.
I turned. The trees came alive with yellow eyes, glowing faintly like lanterns in the dark. One pair. Three. A dozen. More, all blinking open, hungry, focused on me.
Rogues. Drawn by blood. Drawn by my howl.
My legs shook with exhaustion, fur heavy with blood, but I raised my head higher. The crescent mark at my throat blazed like fire, searing against my silver fur.
The first had fallen.
And I would not fall with it.
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