The forest did not welcome him.
It listened.
Every step William took stirred whispers through the trees. The leaves shivered though there was no wind. Roots coiled across the path like veins under skin, thick with faint blue light pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
The moon was rising higher now-round, not the thin crescent it had been when he last looked upon it. Somewhere between the smoke of the city and the dark canopy above, it had swelled, bright and whole, as if it, too, had crossed some unseen threshold.
He moved quietly, sword drawn, his breath shallow. Shadows darted between the trees-some no more than tricks of light, others something else.
The air felt heavier here, thick with magic that brushed against his senses like invisible fingers.
And the beast inside him was restless.
The pulse began behind his ribs again-slow at first, then deep, urgent. His vision sharpened. Every sound, every scent, every faint tremor in the earth beneath his boots came alive with painful clarity.
He could smell the forest's breath: damp moss, the metallic sweetness of rain long past, the faintest trace of her.
Elyon.
Her scent lingered like a memory-wildflowers and candle smoke. It drew him onward, down a path no mortal had walked in generations.
But with each step, his control thinned.
The moon pressed on him like a hand. His bones itched, his skin burned from the inside. The rhythm of his heartbeat no longer matched his breath. It followed another tempo-ancient, primal, endless.
He stumbled, catching himself against a tree. His hand sank into the bark as though it were flesh, and the tree shuddered beneath his touch.
"Not yet..." he gasped, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "I won't-"
A growl cut through his voice, low and raw.
The transformation was coming whether he allowed it or not.
He dropped to one knee, panting, eyes burning gold in the moonlight. His sword slipped from his grasp and clattered against the stones.
The beast's voice filled his skull: She is near. Let me find her.
"No!" he snarled. "You'll kill her-"
You'll lose her without me.
The words echoed like thunder in his mind. His nails split and lengthened. His spine arched. Pain seared through him as his body bent beneath the pull of two worlds-man and monster, both refusing to yield.
He bit down on the scream that rose in his throat, sinking his claws into the soil.
The forest reacted.
All around him, the trees groaned and shifted, their branches twisting toward the light of the moon. The ground vibrated with energy, and through it all came whispers-not from the beast, not from himself, but from the forest.
The blood that walks... the curse that breathes... the wolf that hunts the mage.
The air itself seemed to chant it, ancient and knowing.
William forced his head up. The light from the moon poured through the branches in ribbons of silver, striking his face like a spotlight. His pupils narrowed, his breath came in ragged bursts-and then, in a single motion of surrender, he let go.
The sound that tore from his chest was not human.
It split the forest open-a howl that shook the stars.
When silence returned, he was no longer kneeling.
He stood on four limbs, breath steaming, his body caught between forms. His hands were claws, his face still half-man, eyes burning gold and wild. The sword lay at his feet, gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
And yet... he still knew.
He could still think, reason, remember.
The beast had not taken him. They shared the body now, uneasy and trembling.
"Elyon," he whispered-though the sound was barely speech, more growl than word.
The wind shifted, and her scent flooded his senses again, clearer than ever.
He turned toward it, muscles coiling beneath his skin.
Then he ran.
Through the forest he flew like a silver shadow, leaping over roots and streams, moving faster than any human could. The trees parted before him, as though the forest itself recognized something in his blood.
At one point, he stopped-sensing something in the air. The faint hum of power. A trace of her magic, raw and new, still vibrating through the leaves.
He touched the ground where her foot had fallen. It pulsed under his clawed fingers, warm and alive.
"She's close," he murmured.
And somewhere deep within him, the beast purred in agreement.
But as he lifted his gaze toward the dark beyond, he saw it: faint lights flickering between the trees, blue and cold. Not torchlight. Not human.
The forest was awake. Watching.
The beast shifted inside him uneasily, but William pressed on, following the trail of magic and moonlight.
Above him, the moon's light dimmed briefly-as though something vast and unseen had passed before it.
He did not notice.
He was already too deep.