Lycan Witch

Chapter 11: Shadows In The Square

The square of Hollowbrook burned with torchlight.

The villagers had gathered unwillingly, dragged from their homes by the hunters’ heavy boots and harsh voices. Mothers clutched children to their skirts, men stood stiff with useless farming tools in their hands, and elders whispered prayers into the night.

Garrick stood at the center, tall and broad, his cloak edged in the scent of iron and blood. His men spread out around him, a ring of steel glinting under the flame. No one dared move.

“You’ve grown complacent,” Garrick said, his voice carrying like thunder. “Creatures roam these woods—monsters that take your livestock, your sons, your daughters. And yet you sit behind your walls, blind and deaf.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. Some villagers lowered their heads; others cast fearful glances at the tree line, where the forest loomed like a listening beast.

Garrick’s gaze cut across them all before landing on Aria. For the second time that night, her breath caught under the weight of his stare.

“You’ve seen the shadows,” he pressed, stepping closer to her side of the crowd. “You’ve felt the eyes that follow you home. They hide here, among you, using your fear as cover. But we—” he raised his silver-edged blade into the torchlight “—we are not afraid.”

The hunters shouted as one, driving the villagers back with the clang of steel. The air stank of smoke and terror.

Aria clenched her shawl tight at her chest. Her heart hammered, but it wasn’t fear of Garrick alone. It was the pull—that strange, invisible tether that had been haunting her for weeks. A warning that something was near. Watching. Waiting.

Beside her, old Mera, the healer, whispered: “Don’t meet his eyes, child.” But Aria couldn’t look away. Garrick was circling like a wolf in human skin, and she felt as though she were the prey he had marked.

Then his hand lifted, pointing at her.

“You.”

The crowd stiffened, eyes snapping toward her. Aria froze.

“You wander too close to the woods,” Garrick said, his voice a low snarl. “You walk at night when others hide in their homes. Perhaps you’ve seen what you shouldn’t. Perhaps you’ve spoken to them.”

Aria’s mouth went dry. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me, girl.” Garrick stepped closer, his shadow falling across her. “If there is something in those woods, it will use you. Or perhaps it already has.”

The words rippled through the villagers like poison. Fear shifted into suspicion. A woman pulled her child back from Aria’s side. A man muttered something about curses and bad luck. The crowd she had grown up among now looked at her as though she were something other.

Aria’s throat tightened. “I’m not—”

But Garrick’s blade flashed, its edge glinting as he held it before her face. Not touching, not yet, but close enough that she could feel the cold bite of its presence.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, “we should test your truth.”

The silence was absolute. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Then a sound split it—a low, guttural growl that rolled through the night like distant thunder. The torches flickered as if startled.

Garrick froze, blade hovering. His men stiffened, eyes darting toward the trees. The villagers gasped, some clutching each other, others stumbling back.

The growl came again, closer this time. A warning. A promise.

Aria’s pulse leapt. She didn’t need to see him to know. He was there.

Kael.