《Thorned Moon》

Chapter2: The Werewolf's Call and The Familiar's Bond

Elowen had never imagined that a simple card game could unravel the threads of her fate.

The afternoon was bathed in the golden warmth of sunlight that filtered through the vines crawling up the stone walls of the western tower. It was here, high up in the coven’s ancient tower, where the senior witches gathered on lazy afternoons to play "Grand Fable," a game as much about fate as it was about storytelling. The lacquered deck, with its intricate engravings, was a window to a world beyond—the world of gods, witches, and the eternal dance of destiny.

Each card drawn from the deck wasn’t just a piece of parchment but a whisper from the divine. It was a tradition, a test of sorts, where the outcome of the game determined roles and destinies. Elowen, still new to the ways of magic, hadn’t yet grasped the depth of the game, but she understood its significance.

The terrace was a perfect setting for this sacred game—golden light poured over everything, casting long shadows through the twisting ivy. The air was filled with the soft scent of sandalwood and osmanthus, as incense curled lazily upward, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere. Wicker chairs creaked under the weight of silk skirts, and the old ashwood table, engraved with alchemical symbols, was a reminder of the coven’s ancient roots. Elowen reached for the deck, her fingers trembling with anticipation, and as soon as her hand brushed against it, something strange happened.

A pulse of energy surged through her fingertips—an unexplainable presence. It wasn’t warmth. It wasn’t cold. It was a force that made her heart race.

With a quick breath, she turned over the card.

A figure cloaked in deep gray. It was humanoid but wolfish, its posture upright yet hunched. The torn fabric of its cloak barely concealed the claws that curled beneath. Behind it hung a broken crucifix, its presence ominous, and above it, a silver full moon bathed the scene in cold light. The shadow of the creature stretched across the bottom of the card, seemingly spilling into Elowen's palm as if trying to claim her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Golden eyes glowed from beneath the cloak, piercing through the paper like they were watching her. A primal chill crept up her spine, her pulse quickening as if the creature on the card had come to life.

"Werewolf," a voice whispered across the table, its owner a fellow witch who eyed the card with a mix of awe and fear.

The air seemed to shift. The breeze faltered, and the flames of the candles flickered uneasily. It was as though the universe itself had paused.

Elowen, still gripping the card, felt an unexpected warmth spread through her palm, a strange heat that traveled up her wrist and further, reaching into her chest. The buzzing sound in her ears grew louder, like the hum of distant magic. Her vision blurred, and the room around her seemed to warp as if the very fabric of reality was bending.

Then, she saw them.

Two eyes—golden, glowing, and set within a face half-shrouded in fur and shadow. It was no longer a mere card. It was real. The eyes stared at her through a fog-drenched forest that didn’t exist. For a fleeting moment, they seemed to pierce her soul, and then, just as quickly as they had appeared, they vanished.

The card returned to its stillness. Elowen’s breath was shallow, and her hand gripped the edge of the table so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The other witches around her were laughing, thinking it was just another trick of the game.

“You played that too well,” one of them teased, still chuckling. “You scared us half to death.”

But Elowen didn’t laugh. She didn’t join in their merriment. Something had shifted inside her, something deep and unsettling. A scar had formed in her magic, an echo of a prophecy or a warning, she wasn’t sure which.

From that day on, the word “Werewolf” followed her like a shadow. It was a dark reminder that her fate was already entwined with something ancient, something dangerous. She would never escape it, no matter how hard she tried.

Several days later, the ominous weight of the game still lingered in Elowen’s mind. She hadn’t spoken about the vision to anyone. How could she? The other witches had no idea what she had seen in the card, nor did they understand the significance. But Elowen knew. The werewolf was no mere mythical creature—it was a call, a summons that could not be ignored.

In the village, life had continued, indifferent to the shadow that now hung over Elowen. The witches were busy with their rituals and training, but none had seen her quiet anxiety. And yet, there was one thing that had changed since the game—the sympathy that had flooded her life. Gifts, apologies, and warm wishes were now a constant at her small cottage. Fellow witches who had once been casual friends now visited her more often, whispering words of comfort, as if they knew something she did not.

"Perrin, what should I do to save this child?" Lady Amber asked, her voice heavy with frustration. Amber, the powerful witch and Elowen’s mentor, often sought counsel from her own circle, especially when it came to Elowen’s strange bond with magic.

Perrin, the red-haired tavern witch, eyed Lady Amber with her usual air of calm amusement. With a tabby cat in her arms, Perrin was a curious mixture of mischief and wisdom. She chuckled softly, setting the cat back on the table and pouring herself another drink.

“You’re asking me for advice?” Perrin smiled slyly. “The answer is always the same: You need to embrace what’s coming. There’s no avoiding it.”

Lady Amber refilled her mug, the rich scent of wine mingling with the heavy air. She frowned, her sharp eyes narrowing as she looked at Elowen’s quiet, contemplative expression.

“Don’t you see? The world out there is too dangerous,” Perrin continued, her voice soft but firm. “Life here… it’s not so bad. The gods have given us a place to live, a place to protect.”

Amber sighed and leaned back, rubbing her forehead. “Life here may be safe, but it is not the life Elowen was born for. She has a destiny to fulfill. The werewolf... it calls to her. And we cannot hide from that.”

Perrin snorted, casting a glance out the window where the mist rolled over the hills. “The goddess's protection is all well and good, but it doesn’t change what’s coming. Elowen will have to face her fate sooner or later.”

Later that evening, as the village began to wind down, Elowen stood by the window of her small cottage, staring out at the thickening fog. Her mind was elsewhere—on the werewolf, on the prophecy, and on the ever-growing pull of destiny.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. It was Helina, one of the older witches who had grown close to Elowen over the weeks. Helina was bright and hopeful, eager to see the best in everyone, including Elowen. She smiled warmly as she entered, her presence a gentle comfort.

“There’s a celebration tonight in the Moonlight Forest,” Helina said, her blue eyes sparkling. “You should come. We all want to see you join us before the journey ahead.”

Elowen nodded absently, her mind elsewhere. But Helina’s infectious enthusiasm brought a flicker of hope to Elowen’s heart.

"Thank you," Elowen said softly. "I'll be there."

In the Moonlight Forest, the air was thick with magic. The trees, ancient and wise, stood like silent guardians beneath the silver moonlight. Elowen had not seen the forest like this before—bathed in a glow that felt both sacred and haunting.

It was here, amidst the ancient trees, that Elowen first saw the great white goose that would come to symbolize everything she was about to face.

The goose, though small in comparison to the vast forest, stood with an air of majesty. Its feathers gleamed in the moonlight, a soft white glow that contrasted with Elowen’s dark hair. It waddled toward her, and Elowen instinctively reached down to greet it, a sense of comfort washing over her as the familiar nuzzled her hand.

“This is a gift from the goddess, isn’t it?” Elowen whispered, her voice barely more than a murmur.

The goose fluffed its feathers, its sharp eyes gazing at her. It seemed to nod, as if in agreement.

It wasn’t just a familiar. It was her protector. And as she watched the creature, Elowen knew deep in her heart that her journey had only just begun.

And somehow, the presence of the goose made the path ahead feel less daunting. Whatever was coming, she would face it. For better or worse, she would walk that path—fate be damned.