The grand ballroom of the Valerius estate was a suffocating cage of gold leaf and gossip. Lady Elara, the youngest and most spoiled daughter of the Duke, found it dreadfully boring. She twirled a lock of her golden hair, her blue eyes scanning the crowd not for a suitor, but for an exit. The heavy velvet of her gown felt like a shackle. She craved air. She craved trouble."Just a peek," she whispered to herself, a mischievous giggle bubbling in her throat.With a practiced ease, she slipped through the French doors and into the sprawling gardens. The night air was cool, biting at her exposed shoulders, but Elara only shivered with delight. She didn't stop at the manicured rose bushes. Her slippered feet carried her further, past the marble fountains, towards the jagged, dark line of the Ironwood Forest.They said monsters lived there. They said the boundary was marked for a reason. But Elara, in her nineteen years of pampered ignorance, believed monsters were just stories told by nursemaids to keep children in bed.She hummed a waltz tune, plucking a wild orchid from the edge of the tree line. The silence here was absolute. The music from the manor was gone, swallowed by the ancient, looming pines.SNAPThe sound was sharp, like a bone breaking. Elara froze, her playful smile faltering."Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling slightly. "Is someone there? If this is Lord Percival trying to scare me, it’s not working!"Silence answered her. But it wasn't empty. The air suddenly felt heavy, charged with static. The wind shifted, carrying a scent that made Elara’s stomach drop, it wasn't the smell of pine or earth. It was musk. Wet fur. Hot, metallic blood.A low, vibrating rumble started deep within the shadows. It wasn't a sound she heard with her ears, she felt it in her teeth, in the marrow of her bones. It was a growl.Panic, cold and sharp, finally pierced her bubble of naivety. Elara turned to run, her silk skirts tangling around her legs. But as she spun, a massive shadow detached itself from the darkness of the trees.It stood on two legs, towering over seven feet tall. It was a wall of muscle and dark fur, vaguely humanoid but terrifyingly feral. Burning amber eyes locked onto hers, glowing with a predatory intelligence that no animal should possess."You..." the beast spoke, its voice a grinding tectonic shift of gravel and rage. "You smell... sweet."Elara screamed. She scrambled back, tripping over a root and landing hard in the damp moss. "Stay back! My father-the guards-"The creature moved with a terrifying, blurring speed. One moment he was ten feet away; the next, he was looming over her, blotting out the moon. A massive hand, tipped with obsidian claws, slammed into the earth next to her head, boxing her in.Elara stared up, paralyzed. He was magnificent and horrifying. A Lycan. A Wolf-Lord of the old tales. His chest heaved, a scar running down his torso, and his snout was pulled back in a snarl that revealed rows of serrated white daggers.He leaned down, inhaling deeply near her neck. The heat radiating from his body was suffocating. Elara whimpered, tears prickling her eyes, her playful spirit crushed under the weight of sheer, primal dominance."You strayed, little lamb," the Wolf growled, his hot breath washing over her face. "Into my woods.""I-I didn't know," she gasped, pressing herself into the dirt. "Please, let me go."A dark, guttural chuckle escaped him. His claws twitched, shredding the expensive silk of her sleeve, grazing the soft skin of her arm just enough to draw a single bead of blood. He watched the red drop well up, his pupils dilating until his eyes were almost entirely black."Let you go?" He leaned closer, his rough tongue darting out to taste the air an inch from her trembling lips. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law in your world, is it not? In mine..."His hand moved, large enough to crush her skull, but instead, he gripped her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye."In mine, what I catch... I keep."Elara’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She realized then, with a terrifying clarity, that the ballroom was a world away. She wasn't a Duke's daughter here. She was prey. And he didn't look hungry for meat. He looked hungry for her."Run," he whispered, releasing her chin and stepping back, a cruel, mocking glint in his eyes. "Make it fun for me."

June 30th, 306There was a god who ruled over dreams. Weary of the dull monotony of each passing day, the god gazed down upon the mortal realm in search of a girl to bestow a blessing upon. He then granted his blessing to her. Yet things grew ever more unsettling as the god watched the girl gradually resemble a madwoman. Eventually, the truth was exposed before the Heavenly Court. The god was punished, for his power was never meant to grant blessings. As a result, the girl was condemned to live her entire life with a fractured mind, and this story stands as the way the gods sought to compensate her.