The Cursed Child, The Werewolf Boy, in the Garden of Songs

The Song Upon the Shore

The night air was heavy with salt and mist as Team F made their way toward the center post. Lanterns lit the narrow paths along the cliffs, casting long shadows across the sand. The sound of the tide was constant, echoing like a steady drumbeat beneath their footsteps.

At the front strode their leader—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of face that drew stares wherever he went. His uniform clung neatly to his well-trained build, and the confidence in his steps was almost arrogant.

"Renjiro Takamine," the boy had introduced himself earlier, with a smirk that needed no words to establish superiority. The Takamine were a renowned clan of strategists and duelists, known for leading campaigns in past island defenses. Renjiro, the eldest son, carried that legacy like a badge of pride—and a weapon.

Flanking him were the twins, walking in perfect unison as though even their footsteps had been trained to match. Both broad and muscular, they towered over most of the other students, their shirts straining against the sheer mass of their arms.

Daigo and Raigo Hoshigaki. The Hoshigaki family name was whispered with a mix of awe and annoyance throughout Oneiroi. Descendants of warlords and monster-slayers, the twins had inherited raw strength and tempers that matched. Though not the sharpest minds, their sheer physicality made them formidable.

Trailing just behind them, almost as though he wished the earth would swallow him whole, was the last member. His shoulders slumped, and his long bangs fell so heavily over his eyes that his face was barely visible. He kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, dragging his steps in silence.

Itsuki Murakami. The Murakami lineage was famous for their control of cursed arts and ancient seals—powerful magic that often came at great personal cost. Unlike the others, Itsuki seemed to carry his family's legacy like a burden rather than a banner. His silence only made him an easier target for Renjiro and the twins' mockery.

Behind them walked Yori, quiet, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Vasil, in his owl form, perched on his shoulder, talons curling lightly into his cloak. The familiar's sharp golden eyes never left the three bullies ahead, wings shifting every now and then as though ready to strike if needed.

Beside Yori shuffled Itsuki, who seemed startled that Yori had chosen to walk near him instead of with the others. He said nothing, only occasionally stealing awkward glances through the veil of his bangs.

The three in front laughed at some crude joke only they found amusing, their voices carrying into the night. Renjiro turned his head slightly, his smirk visible even in the lantern's glow.

"So, little saint," he drawled, mocking the way others had whispered about Yori earlier. "Keep walking with the shadows if you want. We'll take care of the front. Wouldn't want you to ruin your pretty face."

The twins snickered, their heavy shoulders bumping into each other as they leaned closer to him, as though sharing a secret. Itsuki's eyes lowered to the ground.

But Yori didn't flinch. He simply walked on, his silence sharper than any retort. Vasil flapped his wings once, a sharp warning. The sound cut briefly through their laughter, though only for a moment.

The post awaited them ahead, a looming silhouette against the moonlit sea.

The center post stood like a lonely sentinel on the shoreline, a wooden watchtower reinforced with carved wards that faintly glowed in the moonlight. The sea stretched endlessly before them, its surface black and restless, only broken by the pale shimmer of moonlight on the waves. The air smelled of brine and kelp, and the steady roar of the tide made the night feel even more hollow.

The five boys settled into their assigned post. Renjiro leaned casually against the rail, arms crossed, looking as if he owned the place. The twins dropped heavily onto a bench, their laughter carrying too loudly in the otherwise quiet night. Itsuki hovered in the shadows of the tower wall, while Yori stood apart, close to the edge where he could see the endless ocean. Vasil, perched on his shoulder, was a silent shadow, eyes fixed on the waves.

But the silence didn't last long.

Renjiro's smirk returned as his gaze slid toward Yori.

"You know," he drawled, "for a boy, you're almost... unfairly pretty. If you dressed a little differently, maybe tied your hair back—could fool half the academy into thinking you were one of the maidens."

The twins snickered, adding fuel to the fire.

"Maybe that's why he got put in our group, Renjiro," Daigo chuckled.

"Yeah," Raigo added, elbowing his brother. "We didn't get assigned a girl, so we got him instead. Guess the gods didn't want us lonely tonight."

Their laughter was low and mocking, the kind of sound that wormed under the skin.

Yori said nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. But Vasil's wings twitched, feathers bristling, and his talons gripped tighter against Yori's shoulder.

Then Renjiro shifted his attention to Itsuki, who still lingered at the edge of the shadows.

"And you," he said with a cruel grin. "You barely speak, you look like a ghost, and you hide behind that mop of hair. What are you hiding under there, Murakami? Scars? Or just a face too ugly to show?"

The twins roared at that, slapping their knees.

Itsuki flinched, his head lowering even further, his bangs falling completely over his eyes. He didn't answer. His fists curled into his sleeves, nails digging into fabric.

Renjiro tilted his head back, satisfied with himself, and turned his smirk once more toward Yori.

"Maybe you two should pair up," he sneered. "The quiet little ghost and the pretty doll. Bet you'd make a sweet sight for the rest of us."

The laughter rang again, echoing against the sea wall.

But then—something shifted.

A pressure rolled in from the horizon, subtle at first, like the ocean itself had drawn a sharp breath. The waves grew harsher, slamming against the rocks below the post. The air thickened with salt and chill.

Vasil's head whipped toward the sea, golden eyes narrowing. His wings flared slightly as though ready to launch.

"Quiet," he hissed under his breath, though only Yori could truly hear.

The mocking laughter faded as the three bullies noticed it too. The ocean no longer looked calm. Something vast moved beneath the waves, just far enough that its form could not be made out. The moonlight seemed swallowed by the black water, and the horizon trembled with an unseen weight.

All five of them fell silent.

The night had changed.

The ocean seemed to breathe in unnatural rhythm, its waves no longer random but pulsing—like a heart beneath the black water. Then, without warning, the surface split.

From the foam and froth, figures began to emerge.

The first thing Yori noticed was their shape: long-limbed, twisted, their silhouettes hunched as though struggling to remain upright on land. Their bodies were slick with a mucous sheen, scales clinging like broken armor across pale, amphibian skin. They had elongated arms ending in jagged claws that gleamed under the moonlight, and their heads were grotesque mockeries of fish—wide maws filled with needle teeth, eyes glowing faintly green like lanterns drowned in algae.

And there were not just one or two.

They rose in a swarm. Dozens of them, crawling out of the surf with grotesque gurgling roars, their webbed feet slapping against the rocks. The tide carried more with every crashing wave, the sea itself birthing this unholy army.

Yori's heart froze.

These... these are the same...

The memory of the temple battle slammed back into his mind—the same sea-born monsters that had attacked them in that ruin, their claws rending stone, their screams echoing in his ears. And now, here they were again, spilling onto the shore of Oneiroi as if hunting him across worlds.

Renjiro swore, his arrogant smirk finally breaking into something harder. He drew his weapon—a curved, blackened spear etched with runes that pulsed faintly.

"Stand your ground!" he barked, voice sharp and commanding. "It's just a pack of drowned filth! Murakami, blond doll—stay out of the way unless you want to get shredded. Daigo, Raigo, with me!"

The twins cracked their knuckles in unison, pulling heavy iron clubs from their backs. Their grins returned, but they were thinner now, more forced. The laughter was gone—replaced with the grim exhilaration of a fight.

Itsuki shrank further behind the post wall, trembling as the first wave of monsters screeched and hurled themselves forward. Yori stayed rooted where he was, hands tightening into fists. Vasil dug his claws into his shoulder, his voice low and urgent.

"Yori—be ready. These things are not the same as in the temple. They've... multiplied."

The first monster leapt onto the rocks, claws scraping sparks against stone. Its jaw opened unnaturally wide, spilling a foul stench of brine and rot. Renjiro met it head-on, his spear flashing in the moonlight, and with a single thrust impaled it through the throat. The creature shrieked, thrashing as black ichor sprayed across the sand.

But another climbed up behind it. Then another. And another.

The shore was alive with movement now, dozens of green-glowing eyes reflecting back at them, the swarm screeching and gnashing as they charged.

"RAAAH!" Daigo roared, swinging his club and smashing one clean across the skull, its head collapsing like rotten wood. Raigo mirrored him, striking another down, the twins moving in tandem like a single beast with four arms.

"Keep them back!" Renjiro shouted, parrying a claw swipe before spinning his spear to gut another monster. "If they breach the post, it's over! Don't let them pass!"

The sounds of battle filled the night—the clang of iron, the wet c***k of bone, the guttural screeches of the sea-born horrors. Salt and blood mingled in the air, stinging their nostrils. The waves crashed harder, as though cheering the swarm forward.

And all the while, Yori's eyes stayed fixed on the mass still rising from the sea. There were too many. He knew it already. No matter how strong Renjiro and the twins were, the swarm didn't seem to end. They kept pouring out of the surf, their grotesque bodies dragging across the beach, filling the dark horizon with writhing silhouettes.

Why here? Why now? Yori's thoughts churned. No... it's not coincidence. They're after me again...

Vasil's feathers bristled, his golden gaze piercing the tide.

"This will not end with brute strength," he whispered grimly. "Something deeper stirs beneath that sea. These are only the hands of a greater will..."

The monsters closed in tighter, the group forming a defensive ring whether they liked it or not—three hardened fighters at the front, while Yori and Itsuki lingered in the rear, both seemingly "weak" in Renjiro's eyes.

But the night was far from over.

The tide of monsters pressed harder, their screeches splitting the night. The three frontliners—Renjiro and the twins—were still holding, but the sheer weight of numbers began to crush their rhythm. Every time they struck down one of the amphibious beasts, three more crawled out of the surf, claws raking the ground, jaws snapping for flesh.

Renjiro's spear whirled in sharp arcs, stabbing, slashing, spinning with almost flawless precision—but even he could not cut fast enough. Daigo's club cracked through bone, Raigo's fist shattered ribs, but sweat was beginning to bead on their brows, their movements slowing.

"Dammit," Renjiro spat, kicking a corpse aside only to parry two more lunges. "This isn't a simple patrol skirmish—this is an invasion."

Yori clenched his fists. His chest tightened, and the memory of the temple flooded back, those same rotting screams rising like ghosts in his ears. He could not—would not—let it happen again.

"Vasil." His voice was low but firm.

The snowy owl perched on his shoulder gave a sharp hoo! and launched into the air, wings flaring wide. Its silhouette spread against the moonlight, feathers scattering into a shower of smoke and shadow. Mid-flight, its form twisted, stretching, reshaping—wings folding into arms, talons elongating into pale fingers. In moments, the owl dissolved into a tall figure cloaked in mist: Vasil, in his true vampiric form, crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness.

The twins faltered, glancing back with wide eyes. Even Renjiro's spear slowed for a fraction of a second.

"Wh—what the hell is that?" Raigo muttered.

Vasil said nothing. He raised the long, slender pipe he always carried to his lips. With one slow breath, he exhaled a cloud of thick, swirling smoke that poured across the battlefield, rolling low and heavy.

The monsters shrieked, disoriented, their glowing green eyes flickering wildly as the smoke bent and twisted their vision. Shapes shifted within the haze—phantoms, false targets, illusions of prey—drawing the swarm to claw and bite at nothing. The clash of steel and bone rang louder as Renjiro and the twins seized the chance, their blades and clubs carving into the distracted beasts.

"Clever trick..." Renjiro muttered, lips quirking even as he skewered another creature through the ribs. "Not bad, pretty boy. Not bad at all."

Behind them, Itsuki flinched as Renjiro barked, "Murakami! Signal! Now!"

The shy boy jumped, fumbling at his satchel before pulling free a flare-like crystal. With trembling hands he lifted it, muttered the activation chant, and the gem erupted into a bright beam of blue fire that shot skyward—an urgent call for reinforcements, piercing the night above the beach.

But as he held it, Yori heard his voice. Soft, trembling, like a broken prayer.

"...It happened... it happened again... it's happening again..."

Yori turned, startled. Itsuki's bangs hid his eyes, but his body shook, his whisper repeating like a curse. The fear was raw, too raw—like someone who had lived this nightmare before.

Yori's lips parted to question him, but another roar pulled him back to the fight. The monsters were pushing harder, breaking through even Vasil's illusions. Renjiro and the twins grunted under the pressure, every strike slower, every parry more desperate.

Yori felt the heat rise in his chest, a power he had restrained for too long. His voice dropped, solemn and commanding, carrying into the storm of claws and teeth.

"By the covenant of the stars, by the flame that guards the eternal path... heed my call."

The ground shuddered beneath their feet. Light pulsed upward from Yori's body, gold and blinding, wrapping him in a mantle of brilliance.

"I summon thee—Regulus! Roaring King of the Zodiac!"

The sky split. A burst of searing light fell from the heavens like a comet, slamming into the center of the battlefield. The explosion of radiance blinded the swarm for a heartbeat—then from the brilliance leapt a massive lion, its mane a corona of molten gold, its eyes burning with celestial fire. It landed with an earth-shaking roar, its claws raking across the sand and cleaving through three monsters in one swipe.

The air vibrated with its presence, raw and holy.

The monsters shrieked and recoiled, some staggering back into the surf as the great lion prowled forward, fangs flashing like blades of light. Its very roar shattered their rhythm, sending them stumbling.

Renjiro's spear froze in mid-motion, his jaw hanging open for the first time that night. Then—he laughed, low and exhilarated, a wild grin spreading across his face.

"Now this is more like it!" he barked, spinning his spear once before charging back into the fray beside the lion.

Daigo and Raigo exchanged quick, startled glances before letting out battle cries of their own, swinging their weapons harder now, emboldened by the celestial beast's presence.

Team F was no longer a ragtag post squad—they were a force, the beach burning with smoke, steel, shadow, and golden fire as the swarm of sea-born horrors was driven back step by bloody step.

But the tide was far from over. The sea still roared, and in its depths... something far larger stirred.

The shoreline trembled as the last of the monsters shrieked in retreat, but the victory was fleeting. From the depths of the black sea, the waves swelled unnaturally high, foaming and roaring as if the ocean itself had grown angry.

Then—something vast broke the surface.

A towering, abyssal beast rose from the water, its massive body dwarfing the shoreline. Its slick, obsidian skin glistened beneath the moonlight, covered in glowing blue fissures that pulsed like veins of bioluminescent fire. Tentacles as thick as tree trunks writhed from its body, each lined with teeth-like barbs, dripping brine that sizzled when it touched the sand. Its many eyes—round, lidless, unblinking—gleamed with alien intelligence as it let out a roar that was neither beast nor storm, but something older, deeper.

The soldiers of Oneiroi froze where they stood. Even Yori felt his breath catch in his throat. For one sharp moment, the battlefield fell utterly silent, the sound of crashing waves the only thing between them and despair.

"...A kraken," someone whispered.

Renjiro was the first to break the paralysis. He spat into the sand, fire igniting in his gaze as he snapped his head toward his squad.

"Don't just stand there!" His voice cracked like a whip. "Form up! If this is the last wave, then we end it here!"

His order shook them back into motion. Daigo and Raigo roared, swinging their weapons to crush the last of the crawling spawn that remained, cutting a path open. Vasil lifted his pipe again, blowing a dense wall of smoke that surged and wrapped around the kraken's flailing tentacles, clouding its strikes, forcing them to lash at phantoms instead of flesh.

Meanwhile, Renjiro slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, closing his eyes. The air vibrated as he began his chant, low and resonant, every word infused with heat.

"Flame of the First Sun, sear the abyss that defies the dawn... Become my blade, my fury, my will!"

The runes carved into the length of his spear ignited, glowing molten red, then bursting into full flame. The weapon was no longer steel but a torch of destruction, its tip burning like a star.

"Blazing Spear of the Phoenix!"

With a roar, Renjiro hurled it skyward, his entire body behind the throw. The spear whistled through the smoke, cutting across the beach like a comet. It pierced clean into the kraken's massive chest, fire exploding outward in a shockwave that lit the night brighter than lightning.

The beast convulsed, its tentacles thrashing wildly, waves crashing higher as it bellowed in pain. A gaping, burning hole opened in its chest, glowing like a furnace.

But it did not die. Even with its body ruptured, the kraken loomed, eyes burning brighter, maw opening to unleash another roar that shook the heavens.

Yori's lion, Regulus, stood unflinching. With a primal cry that split the storm, the celestial beast roared back, mane flaring into a storm of light. The force of its roar blasted outward in radiant shockwaves, shredding flesh, breaking bone, rending the kraken's body into ribbons of blackened gore. Tentacles snapped like cords, its fissured hide splitting apart until the monstrosity finally collapsed, torn into pieces that dissolved back into the sea.

The tide fell eerily quiet. The moonlight returned, unbroken by monstrous shadows.

It was then that reinforcements arrived—soldiers from nearby posts, weapons drawn, rushing down the sand. They skidded to a halt, eyes widening as they took in the c*****e: corpses littering the shore, smoke curling into the sky, a glowing lion prowling among the wreckage, and Renjiro's team standing battered but victorious.

A murmur rippled among the reinforcements.

"...What the hell happened here...?"

"...Was this... their doing?"

"...That lion... who summoned it...?"

But there was no time to answer. The sea was still glowing faintly. And Yori, chest heaving, could feel in his bones that this was not the end.

The last echoes of Regulus's roar faded into the night, leaving only the crash of waves and the ragged breathing of those who still stood. The battlefield reeked of brine and smoke, seawater stained dark with ichor.

Renjiro's spear lay smoldering in the sand, its fire finally extinguished. He bent slightly, one hand braced against his knee, sweat dripping down his jaw. Daigo and Raigo leaned on each other, battered but grinning through bloody lips. Even their bravado seemed dimmed, their usual laughter replaced with silent exhaustion.

Vasil exhaled one final plume of smoke before his form shimmered, body folding in on itself until feathers unfurled where flesh once was. An owl spread its wings and flew toward Yori, landing lightly on his soldier's pauldron with a soft rustle. Its crimson eyes blinked once, then lowered, as if tired as well.

Regulus, still prowling amidst the broken corpses, gave a final low rumble. His mane shone brilliantly for one last moment before his colossal frame dissolved into a cascade of golden motes, scattering like falling stars before fading into the night.

Silence reclaimed the shore.

The reinforcements finally advanced, their boots crunching over sand and debris. The glow of their torches cut through the haze as they approached, gazes shifting between awe and disbelief. One stepped forward, voice uncertain.

"Team F... are you injured?"

Renjiro straightened, rolling his shoulder with a sharp c***k. "Cuts and bruises. Nothing that'll kill us." His tone was tired, but it carried authority.

The soldier's eyes swept over the scene—the carcasses, the strange smoke still lingering, and the scorch marks where Regulus's light had burned. "What in the name of the gods happened here...?"

Renjiro answered without hesitation, his voice calm but edged with gravity.

"Monsters. From the sea. They reached the shore faster than expected. We held them back. ...Barely."

His gaze slid toward Yori then, lingering. For the first time, his usually sharp eyes softened with something like reluctant respect.

"And without him..." he said, his voice carrying so all could hear, "we'd have been overpowered. Make no mistake."

The backup soldiers exchanged glances, murmuring under their breath, but none dared question further.

Yori lowered his head, not out of humility but to hide the weight twisting in his chest. He could feel Vasil's talons tightening faintly on his shoulder, as if to remind him that he wasn't alone.

Just as the tension seemed ready to break, it came.

A song.

Soft, lilting, carried on the wind as though the sea itself had found a voice. A woman's lullaby, low and ancient, weaving through the waves with a fragile sweetness that defied the c*****e still fresh on the shore. Each note hung heavy in the air, soothing, almost tender.

The soldiers froze, heads turning instinctively toward the horizon.

"...That sound," Raigo whispered, his usual booming voice hushed.

Daigo's eyes widened, his grin fading. "It's the lullaby of the Garden of Songs..."

The melody wrapped itself around them, strange and delicate. The restless tide seemed to obey, waves softening, the wind stilling. The very air grew calm, as if the sea itself were being lulled to sleep. Even the wounded stopped groaning, their bodies unconsciously relaxing under its spell.

Yori's breath caught. He knew this song. Not just from today, not just faintly—it had brushed against his memory before, when he stood in another place, long ago. But he pressed his lips shut, forcing the recognition into silence.

Itsuki's voice rose, quiet but clear, carrying a weight the others did not grasp. "It is... the lullaby of the Garden of Songs. It comes from the fallen house of the northwest."

The boy's eyes slid sideways, meeting Yori's. His words were directed outward, to everyone, but his gaze said otherwise—like he was speaking to Yori alone. A hidden truth, shared in silence.

The lullaby lingered, soft and haunting, filling every space the battle had left hollow. Soldiers stood quietly, listening, none daring to speak further. The sea glowed faintly under the moonlight, calm and endless, as if nothing had ever stirred within it.

And so the night ended—not with cheers of victory, but with exhaustion, unease, and a song too beautiful to belong in a world of blood.