Gerald sank to his knees, the suffocating stench of death clinging to the air, its bitter taste coating his tongue. Surrounded by the fallen bodies of loved ones—women, children, even innocent animals—he realized this was no mere tragedy. It was a m******e, a ruthless assault on the Royal family.
Gasping for breath, he crawled among the c*****e, screams tearing from his throat as he searched for any sign of life. The joyous occasion of the new princess’s christening had turned into a nightmare of unimaginable horror. Darkness threatened to consume his vision, but in that moment of fading consciousness, a crucial memory pierced through.
It was the page, the one who had brought the fateful proclamation from the Royal family, delaying the christening until that evening. Who was he? What pack did he belong to? The little princess, his goddaughter, was his beacon of hope, a symbol of a future he dared to dream of.
Having lost his own family to a rogue attack, the King and Queen had taken him in, offering solace and purpose. The little princess, with her innocent smile and the promise of a brighter tomorrow, had become the center of his world. With a fierce, unmatched love, he clung to the hope she represented, a reason to keep fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume them all. As his consciousness wavered on the edge of darkness, Gerald's gaze fixed on a movement beyond the distant tree line. His mind raced with questions: Who—or what—was lurking there? And, most importantly, where was the body of the princess? Than everything went dark.