CHAPTER 2:BLOOD AND BETRAYAL
902 Words
“Come in,” Scarlett said, her voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside. “There are many rooms. Rest now. We'll prepare something for us all to feast on.”
As she stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the hearth hit her face, but her attention snagged on hushed voices whispering near the spice shelves. The scent of cumin and rosemary hung thick in the air, but suspicion cut through it like a knife.
“I don't know if we can trust this stranger living with us,” one of the assistant cooks murmured. “What if he's a werewolf? We'll wake up one day and the whole village will be gone.”
They chuckled nervously.
Nelly, the young one, leaned closer. “Did you see the son’s eyes? Glowing gold when he opened them.”
“I saw it,” Mather whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
“Keep quiet,” someone hissed. “Head Chef is coming!”
The double doors slammed open with a metallic clang, and the scent of scorched onions rushed into the air.
“What are you two gossiping about?” the Head Chef barked. “This behavior is forbidden in my kitchen. Get back to work—now!”
Just then, Scarlett stepped in. The room stilled. Even the boiling pots seemed to quiet.
“I want no mistakes in today’s dishes,” she said firmly, her gaze sweeping the staff. “Everything should be perfectly understood.”
“Yes, ma’am!” they chorused.
But the words she'd overheard clung to her like wet cloth: Glowing eyes. Werewolf. They echoed louder with each step she took.
Back in her quarters, she brushed her fingers against the warm hilt of a hidden sword tucked beneath her robe. Its familiar weight calmed her.
Maybe they’re right, she thought. I need answers. Why is Eira not with him?
She pushed the door open quietly. “Ethan…” she called. “Ethan!”
He stood near the window, unmoving.
“Yes?” His voice was distant. Hollow.
“What’s wrong? I called you twice—you were lost in thought.”
He turned. His eyes were dimmer now, but still shimmering with something ancient… and haunted.
“I have questions,” she said, stepping forward.
“I expected that,” he replied.
She swallowed. “What happened to Eira?”
A heavy silence fell between them.
His shoulders sagged. Then, with a voice made of ice and sorrow, he told her everything—the betrayal, the ambush, how he held Eira’s hand until it went limp. How the shadows in the trees never left him afterward.
Then together, they feasted.
***
MONTHS LATER
Scarlett often meditated on Ethan’s words. They echoed in her mind, even now, as she stood at the edge of the woods. Watering autumn leaves fluttered like falling embers. Tears pricked her eyes, and anger throbbed in her chest.
Before she could speak her thoughts aloud, the distant rumble of hooves shattered the quiet.
She ran.
Villagers emerged from homes, fear creasing their brows as black-armored riders appeared from the trees. Their armor clanked with every motion, swords glinting silver with skull-carved hilts. Their cloaks snapped in the wind like crows taking flight.
They lined up—a menacing wall of shadows against the golden horizon.
Scarlett stepped forward, voice steady. “Who are you?”
A tall man dismounted, his steps deliberate. “We come for peace,” he said, “and for what’s rightfully ours.”
“What do you mean?” she demanded, fists clenched.
“You harbor a dangerous beast,” he said. “A threat to all things natural.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Fear swept like wind through dry leaves.
One villager stumbled forward. “Surely… not that?”
Scarlett turned. Her gaze landed on him—tall, composed, silent.
Victor.
Her brother.
He stood beside the strangers, eyes cold, no sign of recognition on his face.
Victor, she thought, chest tightening. You were my blood…
Betrayal cut deeper than any blade.
She turned to the crowd, her voice clear, ringing like a bell.
“Yes,” she said, “they’re right. There is a werewolf here. But listen closely—he is not our enemy. He is our protector.”
Murmurs surged. Confusion. Doubt stirred like winds of anger.
She pointed toward the riders. “These men? They are murderers. They killed my cousin. They serve politics, not peace.”
A spear whistled through the air.
Scarlett didn’t flinch.
But just before it struck, it froze—suspended in the air as if caught by invisible hands. Then it dropped harmlessly.
All heads turned.
From the cottage, light poured like molten gold.
Ethan stepped out.
His eyes blazed. His body trembled with the shift. The ground seemed to pulse with power beneath his feet.
“What happened last time,” he growled, voice deep and unyielding, “will not happen again.”
His transformation was swift—faster, smoother, stronger. Black fur burst forth, muscles coiled like springs, claws glinting in the light.
Gasps turned to screams.
The riders stepped back.
“We will return!” they cried, mounting swiftly, retreating like waves pulled from shore.
Victor hesitated. His eyes met Scarlett’s.
No apology.
No regret.
Just silence.
Scarlett stood frozen, heart heavy, her blade untouched.
But Ethan stood beside her.
This time, she wasn’t alone.
***
- Writer
