Ghost Wolf

by Brandon Chen

  “A group of raiders from western Escalon pillaged the Lower District!” the warrior exclaimed, before rushing off to help fend off the blazing inferno.

  Faelen had heard of these pillagers before; they called themselves the Hidden Skull. He clenched his jaw tightly, fuming rage coursing through his veins. The bastards kidnapped Yazmine! The man glanced over at his grandma’s body, biting his lower lip. It pained him to leave his guardian like this, but he knew that the guards would take care of her. Right now, he needed to save Yazmine. Otherwise, she would end up dead.

  That night, Faelen rushed to the stables and stole a steed, departing Horux to pursue the party of raiders. He rode hard, but he knew that it was impossible for him to save Yazmine on his own. He was unarmed and exhausted, his head still throbbing from the blow that he’d received earlier. Alone against the dozens of raiders that had invaded Horux, he stood no chance. Within several hours, his body had become numb and his mount was clearly on the brink of collapse. But he could see the contingent of invaders in the distance, riding off. If he continued at this pace, he could still catch up to them.

  Panting, Faelen was about to drive his heels into his horse when a discerning realization swept over him. He was charging straight to his doom. What would he do if he approached the party of pillagers? He couldn’t think of any scenario where he successfully defeated the bandits and escaped alive.

  Slowing to a stop, Faelen’s limp body rolled off his horse. He collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. Exhausted, the distressed man began to wail to himself. It was a horrible feeling, to see his beloved Yazmine in the distance and realize that he couldn’t save her. He felt helpless in the hands of destiny. In his mind, he wished that he were strong enough to save the woman that he loved. For her, he would do anything.

  He fell asleep on the dirt road that night. As he slumbered, he writhed about as he endured a terrifying nightmare. Within that horrifying dream, Faelen was approached by a mysterious entity that arose from the earth in the form of a black shadow.

  The being called himself Malyios. He promised that he would grant Faelen unlimited power, if Faelen would find a portal to a realm called Oblivion. The portal was located in Northern Escalon, which was surely a grand journey. Nevertheless, Faelen was desperate. In his eyes, any opportunity for omnipotence was worth it. With the strength granted by Malyios, he would never feel weak again. He could save his beloved. “I would do anything for Yazmine,” he said to the deceiving god.

  In that dream, Malyios struck an accord with Faelen. Inscribing the location of the Oblivion Portal within the desperate man’s mind, the god then shattered the nightmare and allowed Faelen to awaken.

  Faelen was surprised to see that his horse had stayed by his side throughout the night. He mounted the steed and took off in the direction of Northern Escalon, following the directions that Malyios had burned into his mind.

  The man thought he might be insane as he embarked on his journey, for he followed the instructions of an entity that he’d met in a dream. But on his long trek, Faelen had more interactions with Malyios as he slept. Never before had he had such consistent dreams. He began to believe that perhaps he truly was communicating with a divine being.

  Months passed as Faelen endured Northern Escalon’s frigid weather. He was lucky enough to find refuge in the many human settlements scattered throughout the realm. Without their kind hospitality, the blistering winds and chilling cold would’ve killed him within days of entering the perilous region.

  Eventually, Faelen reached the Oblivion Portal and entered it. He survived the path to the Oblivion Vault, avoiding being crushed to bits by the countless demons, apparitions, and infernal golems that plagued the molten earth of the shadow realm. At that time, there was no door to the Oblivion Vault. Instead, within a massive volcano, there was merely an open room that led to hundreds of thousands of Sacred Treasures.

  While Faelen understood that these priceless items could make him rich, he cared not for most of them. He only sought that which would grant him the strength he needed to save Yazmine. Rummaging through the piles of golden treasures, the man searched for a weapon that would make him invincible. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice in his ear.

  “To your right are the Oblivion Claws. They will grant you the power that you seek.”

  It was Malyios that spoke to him, like a seething whisper in the night.

  Faelen slipped on the mysterious gloves without hesitation. After months of interacting with Malyios through dreams, he’d come to trust the Titan. Though he soon regretted his decision.

  Corrupt energy rippled in the air around Faelen as the poor man collapsed to his knees, writhing in agony. It was as Malyios had promised; the raw power that channeled through him was unimaginable. But he hadn’t expected such a horrific price. His bones elongated, his teeth sharpened, and ebony fur sprouted from his hardened skin. With eyes glowing like one of Oblivion’s demons, Faelen let out a howl that echoed through the Oblivion Vault.

  Faelen was shocked by the monstrosity that he had become. He trembled, staring at the black hair that now covered his arms and the jagged claws that protruded from the ends of his fingers. “What have I become?” he roared with animosity. “This is not what I wanted!”

  Malyios’s shadow materialized before the world’s first werewolf, examining the creature with profound interest. “You asked for power and I gave it to you. Now you must fulfill your end of the bargain.”

  Faelen tore the Oblivion Claws off and hurled the cursed gloves to the ground, only to find that he didn’t revert to a human. He stayed a monster. Enraged, he refused to complete his end of the deal. “I will not free you, deceiver!” he boomed, swiping his hand at Malyios’s shadow. “You can stay locked in this forgotten realm for eternity.”

  Malyios let out a bellowing roar that quaked the vault, watching powerlessly as Faelen left. “I curse you! The loved one that you seek to save will never accept you as you are! No one will! You have left me in an eternity of solitude and now you shall experience the same!”

  Faelen didn’t heed Malyios’s words. He’d already been cursed to remain an abomination for the rest of his life. The werewolf left Oblivion and traveled across Escalon, no longer welcomed to any of the human settlements’ taverns, as he once was. Whenever a human saw him, they were horrified, even when he insisted that he meant no harm. They all saw him as an appalling monster.

  It only took him a few weeks to travel to the base of the Hidden Skull in western Escalon. The werewolf infiltrated the bandits’ camp and slaughtered the raiders remorselessly, venting his rage and frustration on the bodies of the helpless raiders. Within minutes, he’d slain every person in the Hidden Skull.

  Faelen approached a jail and found Yazmine, locked behind iron bars. Her face was caked in dirt and blood. The noble staggered back at the sight of the abominable creature that towered over her, her eyes wide with fear. “S-Stay back, you beast! P-Please, let me live!” she wailed miserably, putting her head in her hands.

  Faelen reached out and ripped the metal bars off, stepping into the cell before the petrified woman. “Yazmine, it’s me,” he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “It’s Faelen.” He got down on one knee but watched as Yazmine quickly leapt to her feet and struck him across the jaw, running past him.

  Wincing, the werewolf turned to find that his beloved had rushed into the hallway. She grabbed one of the torches off the sconces on the stone walls and held it out, pointing the blazing flames at Faelen. “D-Don’t come near me!” she shouted, her hand trembling.

  Faelen stepped into the jail’s corridor, staring at Yazmine. “I know that I look different, Yazmine. But I did this for you, so that I could save you! Didn’t you once say that you loved me for who I was and that nothing would change that? My love, this is just my appearance,” he said, his voice shaking. “But I’m still me.”

  Tears trickled down Yazmine’s cheeks and she shook her head, stumbling backward. “Y-You never should’ve
come,” she whispered. “Not like this … not as a monster!”

  A monster.

  Faelen was tired of that word. He heard it shouted every time a human saw him. They didn’t care if he could speak. They didn’t care if he displayed compassion or emotion. They only cared that he had claws that could flay flesh from bone and sharpened teeth that could bite bodies in half. They only saw his appearance and considered him a vicious instrument of destruction.

  The werewolf’s hands quivered and he bared his teeth angrily as he stormed towards Yazmine. “Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you, Yazmine?” he barked, the ground quaking beneath him. He stood before the woman he’d once considered his companion, his eyes flashing intensely. “I’ve endured so much excruciating pain that I’ve become numb to its bite. I’ve ventured beyond this world to the realm of the dark gods and cast away my humanity to gain the power needed to save you from confinement! Is that not enough to prove my love for yo—” His eyes widened when Yazmine jammed her flaming torch into his chest.

  Faelen swatted the torch from Yazmine’s hands, a searing wound burned on his flesh. He glared at his beloved with acrimony, disbelief on his face. “After everything I’ve done … you still wish me gone, just because of what I’ve become?” Faelen roared. “I’m still the same man!”

  “No,” Yazmine said, shivering. “You’re not a man, not anymore.”

  Faelen ripped his claw to the side and mutilated Yazmine’s body with a single slash. The woman’s corpse crumpled to the floor before the werewolf. He stared apathetically at his beloved.

  He understood why Yazmine feared him. If he were human, he would fear werewolves as well. But no one would give him a chance to prove himself, to show that he meant no harm. “You all prematurely judge me,” Faelen whispered, hovering over his partner’s corpse. “I knew you would be shocked when you first saw me, Yazmine. I just thought you would be different. I believed that you would see past all of this fur and understand the sacrifices that I had to make to ensure your freedom.” He stepped over the cadaver, clearing his mind of the grief that now haunted him. “I see now that all humans are the same. If you could not accept me, then how can I expect anyone else to?”

  Faelen eventually returned to Horux to see his grandmother, the one person he had left. The beast was attacked the moment he arrived at the city’s gates. Thus began the inception of the werewolf race, as Faelen fiercely battled his way through the swarms of Horuxian soldiers, infecting and slaying all of those in his path. Infuriated that everyone only saw him as an atrocity, rage became the fuel that drove Faelen to engage in the savage bloodbath.

  The monster returned to his old home in the Lower District, which had been rebuilt. With claws stained with blood, he opened the door to the cottage and stepped into a quiet household.

  “Who is that?” a familiar voice called out.

  Faelen stood paralyzed in the doorway as tears welled in his demonically glowing eyes. “Gran?” he whispered, his voice shaky. It had been years since he’d seen his guardian. The old woman now sat in a rocking chair, blind and alone in her home. Faelen had left his disabled grandmother to live for years in solitude … he felt as if his heart were about to explode.

  “I’d recognize that voice anywhere,” his grandmother said, her hand reaching toward Faelen’s voice. “Is that you, Faelen?” An elated smile spread across her face. “You’re alive? Everyone told me that you ran off after Yazmine and that you’d died! Oh, I’m so glad that you’re home.”

  Faelen fell to his knees, bowing his head slightly as he whimpered. His grandmother didn’t know of his horrific transformation, for she could not see him. Now a foul lie twisted in the air, for she believed that things would return to normal. She did not understand how much everything has changed. “I … I can’t stay, Grandma,” Faelen said. With every word, he felt as if a dagger was being driven through his heart. He crawled over to his grandmother and took her wrinkled hand in the palm of his paws. “I’ve changed and become … something hideous.”

  His grandmother tilted her head to the side, tracing her hand along his palm. She felt the ebony fur on his arm and then touched his face. The elderly woman did not hide her surprise as she mentally pictured Faelen’s new transformation. “But you should know that I don’t care about any of that. As long as you’re the same Faelen that I’ve known my whole life, I’ll accept you. Hideous and all.”

  Faelen smiled wearily, for he knew that his grandmother didn’t care for what he looked like. The outside never mattered to her — for years she’d been unable to see it. What mattered to her was the soul within the shell. Unfortunately, not everyone was like her.

  “I know you don’t care. But the world does,” Faelen said, suddenly embracing his grandmother tightly. He closed his eyes, hearing clanking footsteps at the entrance of the cottage. “I’m so sorry, Grandma. For leaving you alone. I want you to know that I love you so much and that I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. I—”

  Faelen’s eyes widened suddenly as a steel sword was jammed through his back, skewering him and his grandmother in one powerful stroke. Agonizing pain ripped through his body, blood pooling in his mouth. He helplessly watched the pale face of his dying guardian.

  His grandmother stared at him, her empty eyes widening with surprise. Her lips quivered and parted as if she wanted to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes closed, and she slumped back in her chair as she exhaled her final breath.

  The werewolf gasped as the blade was yanked from his body and he sputtered ichor onto the ground, his hands trembling at his side. Breathing heavily, he glanced at the unmoving corpse of his grandma, squeezing her cold, limp hand in his.

  The cruel world had claimed the life of the last person that he’d cared about. At first, sorrow filled him, making him want to bawl and mourn his grandmother’s death. But that grief soon turned to ire, burning stronger than the conflagration that had razed his cottage years before.

  Faelen clenched his bloody fangs and slowly rose, towering over the squadron of Horuxian warriors that stood in his home. He turned to face the frightened soldiers, his sharp claws itching for the taste of human flesh.

  Bloodlust usurped his mind and he rampaged through the streets of Horux, his sole purpose for existence gone. Now all that remained was an insatiable hunger for destruction. Hours passed as Faelen mercilessly slaughtered at least a thousand of Horux’s inhabitants. His rage seemed limitless.

  Eventually, he was subdued by the squads of Horuxian guards that battled him. As a result, he was locked in a cage of silver while underground catacombs were being built to secure his confinement. Months later, Faelen was moved underneath the city and sealed away for centuries. He never got to bury his grandmother, for the Horuxians cremated her corpse.

  And so, the world’s first werewolf lay in solitude in the darkness of the underground catacombs of Horux. Behind bars of silver, the beast brooded in his confinement, regretting his decision to leave Horux and pursue the destruction of the Hidden Skull. Now, as his grandmother had for years, he sat in darkness, alone and forgotten.

  ***

  Yuri lifted his gaze from the final images of Faelen’s life, now realizing the poor beast’s sorrow. He rubbed his moist eyes with the back of his hand, biting his lower lip. “I can’t imagine the pain he must’ve felt,” he whispered, lowering his head.

  What will you do now?

  “Faelen is not a bad person,” Yuri said, looking back to the magical pool. He watched as Faelen slumped to the cold stone floor, defeated and depressed. “He is misguided. I plan to set him back on the right path.”

  How will you do that?

  “You’ll see when the time comes,” Yuri said to the Ghost Wolf, pointing to the animated images that flashed on the pool in front of him. “How are you showing me his memories?”

  The Ghost Wolf tilted its head to the side. I am a manifestation forged by the Oblivion Claws. Thus, I have access to the stream of memories that flow from ever
y wielder of the Sacred Treasure. The beast watched as Yuri began to walk towards Reidan once again, with more purpose to his stride. You’ll have to fight Faelen if you go back, Yuri. But it’s impossible for you to face him alone.

  “But I won’t be alone,” Yuri called over his shoulder, eying the creature from the corner of his eye. “Isn’t that right, Ghost Wolf?”

  Survivors of Oblivion

  Yuri’s eyes slowly opened. His ears pricked up, catching the sounds of anguished and terrified screams in the distance. He felt someone squeeze his hand and turned to find Violet at his bedside, tears gleaming in her eyes. The princess embraced him tightly, relieved that he’d finally awakened. She started to sob thankfully, pressing her face against his chest. The werewolf could feel her rapid heartbeat. Not from fear or exhaustion, but from exultation.

  “You’re finally awake,” she whispered. “Faelen’s invaded Reidan. He’s started infecting everyone in the Trading District. The king has already evacuated, and we need to get out of here too. I believe that he’s come for you.”

  “I can’t run,” Yuri said, shaking his head. “I need to face him.”

  “What? Why?” the princess exclaimed, surprised by the boy’s response. It was shocking that Yuri still wanted to fight, having just woken from a coma.

  “I can stop this,” Yuri said confidently, still hearing the shrill cries of suffering Iradian civilians. He stared at his quavering hands and his stomach knotted. He’d gotten significantly thinner and weaker. “How long have I been unconscious?”

  “Two months,” Violet replied, giving one of his hands another squeeze.

  Yuri winced, surprised by her answer. The last thing he remembered was bleeding out beside Malyssa’s corpse. Now he’d somehow awoken in the castle of Reidan, and he didn’t have time to wonder about the details. He could sense that someone was approaching the citadel at incredible speed, and he knew exactly who it was.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to Violet. He leaned forward and gently pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “I never got the chance to apologize for our quarrel back in Lichholme. I didn’t mean to come across as insensitive. I care about you, so much and … I’m glad that you’re the first person that I saw when I woke. Thank you for staying by me for all this time.” He kissed her tenderly, welcoming the warmth that ignited between them.