The moon rose red that night. And its color drew everyone's attention immediately. Crimson moons were never a good sign in Lycanthria. It meant blood, danger, or dark magic stirring somewhere in the realm.
By the time the bell in the watchtower sounded, the palace was awake. Guards rushed through the city toward the southern gate, where a pair of patrol wolves had gone missing during their shift. Their howls had been cut off mid-transformation, the sound echoing briefly before silence swallowed it whole.
When the search party reached the border gate, what they found froze every man in place. Four bodies lay sprawled across the earth, half-shifted between wolf and human. The claws were outstretched as if they had tried to fight something before dying. The flesh around their necks was torn, and their eyes were open, bloodshot, glassy, and lifeless.
One of the guards knelt beside the corpses. "They were trying to shift. Something stopped them halfway." He said quietly.
