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Howling Sorrows

Howling Sorrows

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5 Chapters
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Faith was just a girl from a quiet village until the night Richard stole her away, moments before hunters came to burn it to the ground. He tells her the truth: she is the last of the First Blood, a cursed lineage the Church has hunted for centuries. Now, she is the most wanted creature in the land. But something inside her is changing. It whispers. It watches. It waits. With every battle, every wound, the power in her veins grows stronger, hungrier. Richard warns her that once she crosses a certain line, there will be no coming back. But when the world wants her dead, Faith has only one choice: be the prey they expect or become the nightmare they fear. Because the First Blood were never meant to fade. They were meant to rise.

Chapter 1 The Howl of a Nightmare

The night was alive.

The wind whispered through the towering trees, rustling their skeletal branches like murmuring voices of the damned. Thick fog crept over the forest floor, curling around Faith's ankles like ghostly fingers trying to pull her down. The air was damp, carrying the scent of earth, pine, and something else. Something metallic.

Something like blood. Faith ran.

She didn't dare look back. Her lungs burned, her legs ached, but terror pushed her forward. The sound of her own desperate breath drowned out the symphony of the night-the distant croak of frogs, the chirp of crickets, the rustling of unseen creatures slithering in the undergrowth.

But there was one sound she couldn't ignore. Footsteps. Not hurried like hers, but measured. Slow. Unbothered.

A predator taking its time. "Richard!" she gasped, her voice barely more than a plea.

She tripped over an unseen root, crashing hard onto the damp earth. Pain shot up her palms as they scraped against jagged twigs, but she barely noticed. Her eyes darted to the trees ahead. Dark silhouettes loomed like silent watchers, their twisted branches reaching for her.

The fog blurred their outlines, turning the forest into a shifting maze of shadows. "Please," she choked out, pushing herself up onto shaky arms. "I know you can hear me. Don't do this." A chuckle drifted through the mist. Deep, smooth, tainted with amusement. Faith stiffened.

"Faith..." His voice slithered through the darkness like silk laced with venom. "You're only making this harder for yourself." A shiver ran down her spine. She could barely make out his figure through the fog, but he was there. Waiting. Watching.

A tall silhouette cloaked in black, standing just beyond the haze. The moon reflecting on him added majesty to him. The faint outline of a staff rested in his grip. But the most terrifying thing- The only thing she could truly see- Were his eyes. Twin embers glowing red in the night, like the last smoldering coals of a dying fire.

Faith's breath hitched. [THUD-THUD-THUD.] Her heart pounded against her ribs like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Her body screamed at her to run, but her limbs felt like stone. The fog shifted.

Richard stepped forward. She could see him now-his face half-lit by the moon, his features still as striking as she remembered. Dark, tousled hair. Sharp cheekbones. A mouth curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. The worst part? He was still beautiful.

The Richard she had known had been kind once. Thoughtful. Playful, even. The kind of man who could make you laugh on your worst days. The kind of man who had stolen her heart before she even realized it was missing.

Thinking over the fun time they shared, the moments he held her in his arms and whispered words, that she has hidden in her heart, forbidden words, deep within the confines of a space locked away. But the man before her now was something else entirely. Not the man he used to be. Though he is some where in there, buried but needs to fight for dominance.

Something inhuman. Something that set her very soul on fire with fear. Something in the body that wasn't its. His fingers reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. His touch was featherlight, almost tender just like the touch she is used to.

For one maddening second, she wanted to close her eyes and lean into it. Wanted to believe, even now, that there was still something of him left beneath whatever monster he had become. Just a may wish, no harm in it. But then his fingers curled. His grip tightened. And just like that, the illusion shattered.

"Wake up, Faith," he murmured. His voice was softer now, but the edge beneath it was razor-sharp. She flinched, jerking away from his grasp. Richard exhaled heavily, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher watching a student fail their lesson. "You're coming with me," he said.

The air around them seemed to still. Then- His eyes burned brighter. His teeth sharpened, elongating into fangs. And somewhere deep within his chest, a terrible sound began to rise-low, guttural, like a storm rumbling beneath the earth. Then the cracking started. Faith froze.

She heard it before she saw it. The sickening sound of bones shifting, snapping, rearranging. His body convulsed, his fingers lengthening, his nails turning into claws. His cloak billowed as his muscles expanded, his very form distorting under the pale light of the moon. Faith's scream caught in her throat. Darkness swam at the edges of her vision, she fought, really hard to overcome it.

One moment, she was staring into the face of a man she had once loved, a man who had made several promises of love to her, a man she built her world around.

The next, the world tilted- And she fell, hitting the ground hard, face deep in the mud. Her mind surrendered to the darkness just as the sound of a long, bone-chilling howl shattered the night., wishing that when she wakes this may just be another nightmare, far from reality. Just maybe her Richard will return to her.

A howl that spread across Winter Haven, piercing through walls and windows, creeping into the dreams of every soul who heard it. Loud as the sound of thunder rumbling in the sky, shaking every household. Mothers scrambling to keep their children safe, everyone thrown into a state confusion and fear, barely making it through the night.

A warning.

A promise.

A curse.

When the howling begins, sorrows follow.

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