WOLF BOY

The silver mask

Without a word, Jimmy sprang up, determined to retrieve his lamp, which had fallen some distance away. He could sense a figure behind him as he snatched it up and directed the light towards the figure, he was stunned to see that it was the same boy he had left behind – the one with the broken limb. The boy was standing tall and strong like he'd never been hurt.

"How did you..." Jimmy's voice trailed off, his words trapped in his throat by fear as a guttural sound escaped from the boy's throat, sending shivers down his spine. Suddenly, the boy's eyes flashed red, like an inferno blazing in the darkness.

Jimmy's breath caught in his throat as he scrambled backward, his feet tripping over themselves in his haste to get away. He couldn't believe what he was seeing - the boy's face was transforming before his eyes, fangs sprouting from his mouth like daggers.

"Oh my god," Jimmy gasped, as he picked himself up and ran for his life. He couldn't shake the image of those red, piercing eyes from his mind as he raced away, glancing over his shoulder at every turn.

His skin prickled with sweat as he thought of the story he'd told about Bonnie, and the vampire that haunted her. He didn't know what this creature was, but he knew enough to know that he didn't want to be its next meal.

Sprinting as fast as he could, Jimmy didn't even feel the impact when he ran into something solid, like a wall. He stumbled back, landing on his butt with a thud, and looked up to see a pair of glowing red eyes staring down at him.

Before he could even scream, the figure moved with lightning speed, and Jimmy felt sharp fangs sink into his neck. The pain was searing, overwhelming, and all Jimmy could do was scream as the world around him went dark.

"Consider yourself fortunate," Grandalf sneered, "that I haven't already killed you. I'm only sparing you because I'm not sure if killing you will reveal the mask."

But Callaghan refused to cower. He held Grandalf's fiery gaze, unflinching, even as the older man ordered him to transform into a wolf.

"NEVER!"

Callaghan finally replied, his eyes flaring with a faint yellow glow. Grandalf's nostrils flared in response, his rage intensifying with each passing moment.

Unable to control himself, Grandalf lunged forward, repeatedly stabbing Callaghan with his razor-sharp claws. The air filled with the sound of tearing flesh and Callaghan's pained screams, as Grandalf's rage consumed him.

“Nooohhh!!!”

Greta screamed and crawled towards Grandalf. She yanked on the hem of his garment, and begged as hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Please spare my son."

Irritation surged up inside Grandalf. He sighed deeply as he spun around and kicked her on the face. How dare she ask for mercy after all the chances he had given to her. She doesn't deserve mercy, and no amount of begging would make her attain it. Greta, on the other hand, kept returning, yanking and pleading with him to spare her son. Grandalf's eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched together. He was tired of her constant retorts, so he spun around and his claws slashed her throat.

At that point, the world came to a halt on its axis and Greta staggered backward as a fountain of blood gushed from her throat. As she clutched her ripped flesh, blood sprayed and flowed thickly through her fingers.

Callaghan screamed as his mother collapsed on her knees, blood oozing from her mouth as she struggled to breathe.

Callaghan's body tightened, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. The red-eyed man before him was the source of his rage, and the desire to tear him limb from limb consumed him. His breaths came in short gasps, his chest heaving with the effort to take in air. A snarl erupted from his throat, his teeth elongating into razor-sharp daggers. The yellow glow in his eyes intensified as he struggled against the pack's grip, his body wriggling like a trapped animal.

As he struggled, his body began to transform. Short, silvery fur sprouted over his skin, clinging to his face like mutton-chop beards. His muscles rippled beneath the fur, growing stronger and more defined. The transformation was painful, but he welcomed it. It was a release from the torment of his human form.

Amidst his transformation, Grandalf's voice cut through the haze of Callaghan's anger.

"Yes! Attaboy. Transform!!!" Grandalf's praise only pissed Callaghan off, and he continued to shift until the silvery mask covered his face completely; visible for everyone to see.

Grandalf approached him with a cheerful expression on his face. He muttered his approval and pressed his hand against the mask.Grandalf's fingers traced the intricate carvings on the mask, a look of awe in his eyes. Callaghan's body tensed, the fur on his skin rising in fury.

"Sire," one of Grandalf's men spoke up, "please remove the mask while you still can."

Grandalf's brow furrowed in irritation.

"What do you mean?"

"The boy," the man gestured his eyes towards Callaghan, "he is going berserk. I don't think we can keep him restrained much longer."

Grandalf's expression twisted into an angry grimace.

"How dare you? Do you mean to tell me that this little rat is giving you trouble?"

"His strength has unexpectedly increased," another man explained.

"I don't care," Grandalf snapped, "just hold him a little longer."

As Grandalf gazed upon the mask, memories flooded his mind. Centuries ago, his brother Erindel had been worshipped as a god, his power and fame unmatched. The rough textures of the ancient moon rock beneath his fingers brought him back to those glory days, and he couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship of the goddess who had created it. He was willing to bask in its beauty for eternity.

Grandalf was lost in thought when a sudden, thunderous roar from Callahan shook him out of his musings. The roar was so loud that it felt like it was piercing his eardrums. Callahan's strength was surprising as he flung the men who were restraining him into the air with a powerful motion