Myths and Legends

Chapter 21 | A Dark Discovery

As Meldrid comforted her crying child, Rei entered the room with a serious expression. "We went back to where you fought the werewolf, but it's body is gone," he informed her. Meldrid wasn't even fazed by the news, her focus solely on her children. "I'll leave that to you. If you want to find it, you can, but I'm too tired. I just want to be there for my children; I'm the only one they have left," she said solemnly. Rei nodded understandingly. "Okay then, I'll handle this matter," he stated. "But where's Caspian? Is he okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"He's fine. He's in the clinic; his chest and shoulder were wounded in the fight last night, but he'll be fine," Meldrid assured him. "I'm going to get going then. Please call for me if you need anything," Rei said before leaving. "Thanks, Rei," Meldrid replied with a melancholic smile.

Meanwhile, in a cave far from where the battle happened, the severely injured werewolf stumbled deeper, seeking refuge. With each agonizing step, its monstrous fur rippled and receded, muscles spasming and bones shifting with sickening pops. Finally, against the rough cave wall, the transformation completed. A naked man, his skin slick with sweat and blood, lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, gasping for breath. This was Angus, the werewolf, now human once more.

Gashes marred his chest and arms, shallow where fur had ripped free, deeper where claws had scored flesh during the fight. Blood, both his own and that of his enemies, caked his hands and matted his once-thick hair. He was a mess of raw vulnerability, a stark contrast to the monstrous predator he had been mere moments ago.

A flicker of movement in the cave's depths caught his eye. A figure, cloaked in black and wielding a torch, emerged from the shadows. Angus braced himself, a mixture of fear and defiance flickering in his wounded eyes. A figure, cloaked in black and wielding a torch, emerged from the shadows. Angus braced himself, a mixture of fear and defiance flickering in his eyes.

"You failed?" the figure spoke, his voice dripping with amusement and laced with a cruel edge.

Angus, his breath ragged, rasped out, "Give me power, I need to avenge my brother." He started to explain, "I think he's one of—"

The figure cut him off with a cold chuckle. "No, you don't need more power, Angus. You've done enough. And oh," he added with a chilling smile, "it's because of me your brother died."

Angus's eyes widened in horror. "What?!" he roared, disbelief and fury warring within him.

"I used my powers on him," the figure revealed, his voice devoid of remorse. "Made him go berserk. A temporary distraction, those pesky mercenaries. We needed more souls to harvest."

The figure, now identified as Sath, spoke the last part with a casual cruelty that sent a shiver down Angus's spine. The betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow. "You damn bastard, how dare you!" Angus roared, a surge of adrenaline momentarily pushing past his injuries.

But the exertion was too much. He coughed, a spray of blood staining his lips, and slumped back against the wall. "Don't let my brother's death be in vain," he pleaded, his voice weak. "Keep your promise. Save our village from the plague. That was the deal."

Sath's response was a callous laugh that echoed through the cave. "What's so funny?" Angus rasped, a flicker of defiance reigniting in his dimming eyes.

"Did you really think I was going to help you?!" Sath mocked. Angus's heart plummeted. "Liar! You traitor bastard!" he screamed, his voice raw with a mixture of rage and despair. "What will happen to my tribe? We trusted you!"

A cruel smile twisted Sath's lips. "Oh, your tribe? There's no need to worry about them anymore. After all, I killed them all," he admitted, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Such delicious screams, such despair. I love watching them succumb to despair how I killed the women with their children in their arms, you should have seen the face of those children when they saw their mother's head roll in front of them, after all, the most delicious soul to absorb is the one with fear, and despair." He trailed off, his voice taking on a sickeningly gleeful tone."...like dolls with their strings cut, watching their world crumble."

Sath's laughter echoed through the cave, a monstrous sound that sent shivers down Angus's spine. "And you know what's even more delicious?" he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "That disease ravaging your village? My own little creation. It softened them up perfectly, made them ripe for the taking."

Angus's breath hitched. The truth slammed into him, a sickening realization. Sath wasn't just a manipulator, he was a monster who reveled in suffering. A searing rage, hotter than anything I'd ever known, threatened to consume me. My brother, Denal, his booming laugh, his loyalty...gone. And our village, a pyre of screams and ashes, all thanks to this sadistic fiend. The man responsible for my brother's death, for the plague that stole my people, stood before him, reveling in his cruelty.

Angus's eyes welled with tears. A primal rage, fueled by grief and betrayal, surged through him. With a deafening roar, he transformed back into the monstrous werewolf, a last desperate attempt to avenge his fallen kin.

But Sath, a master of dark magic, was far stronger. With a flick of his wrist, he slammed the werewolf to the ground. "I think your soul will be the most delicious one of all," he whispered, his voice devoid of pity.

A surge of dark energy erupted from Sath's hand, engulfing Angus. The werewolf's struggles grew weaker, then ceased altogether. Sath chuckled, a dark and disturbing sound that echoed through the cave. "I have enough souls now; Master Nexus will be delighted," he murmured, his words laced with a promise of untold evil.