Bound To The Beast of Blackwood

Every child on the continent knows the story. Whether they're born beneath the snow-covered pines of the North or the sunlit valleys of the South, they're told the same warning before they're old enough to shift. Never wander into Blackwood Forest after sunset. Not because of rogues. Not because of wild wolves. Because of the Beast. Some say the Beast was once an Alpha who loved too deeply and paid for it with a curse. Others claim the Beast has never been a man at all, but an ancient guardian that wakes whenever the balance between the packs begins to crumble. Grandmothers tell children that the forest listens. Hunters swear the trees move when strangers enter. Travelers leave flowers at the Blackwood border, not as gifts—but as promises that they come in peace. No one agrees on how the legend began. Only one thing remains unchanged. Every generation has an Alpha of Blackwood. And every generation, people whisper the same words. The Beast still walks among them. No one knows whether the title is earned... inherited... or feared. No one dares ask. Because those who spend their lives searching for the truth rarely return with it. When they do... They never speak of what they saw beyond the trees. They simply bow their heads toward Blackwood. As though remembering something the rest of the world was never meant to know..