DUAL CURSE

Aiden's POV. . . . . . Blood, Like a stream of water, flowed through the ground. The stench of death filled the air, a vast land of desolation, could be seen from beyond. This was the state of Howlerville, previously known as the most powerful werewolf empire in the history of legendary tales, from the great book of Vashkrer. Now as the full-blood moon hung over the sky, what remained were broken walls, and lifeless bodies of soldiers, some I'm their Wolf form, others not.    As the aftermath of the great m******e became clear, A once-thriving empire was in a state of shock and grief. The remains of the dead littered the streets and public spaces, their lifeless bodies piled on top of each other in grotesque heaps. The stench of death that hung heavy in the air, greeted my nostrils once again. A sickening odor permeates every nook and cranny of this great city.   Soldiers and civilians, Warlocks, young and old, men and women were among the dead. Their bodies bore the scars of war, cuts borne out of inhumane and unfathomable evil, gaping wounds, severed limbs, and crushed skulls. Some were frozen in terror, their faces twisted in agony. Others had the calm expression of those who had died peacefully, as if unaware of the horror that had befallen them.     As the days passed, the unrelenting stench of death became stronger, and disease spread among those who remained. To dispose of the bodies, mass graves were dug, but even these could not keep up with the rate of death. The empire bore a scar that would never heal completely, a reminder of the great and terrible.   I stood as I watched the great and terrible fall of this great land. Suddenly the mastermind, the demon, and devil, the originator of this great evil.  His fur blended with the blood-red rays of the moon. His eyes glared pure evil, with no Innocence in his gaze, within his claws were filled with shredded skins of the innocent, and blood walled his jaw. It seemed like I had seen of a truth, the Devil himself.   He bore the head of the Alpha, the ruler of this crumbled empire, in his jaw as some sort of immaculate trophy. Truly I had never seen a day more evil.          I chuckled as I dropped the Book I was reading back on the library shelf. It was the book of prophecies, by a witch werewolf ."A werewolf could never hunt and kill its own pack," I said, thinking out loud, it was both intriguing and terrifying at the same time.  "Yea right' Logan responded less enthusiastically, as we walked out of the Library.  Logan is my brother, my twin brother.    I stood six feet tall, slightly taller than Logan, with athletic builds and broad shoulders. Our skin was a warm, golden brown as if they had spent hours in the sun every day.   Our jawlines were chiseled in an identical manner, with Logan's a little stronger. Our noses were straight, and our lips were full. We had sculpted faces due to our sharp, angular cheekbones framed in likeness to that of our mother. My eyes were a deep, dark brown, almost black, and seemed to sparkle with an unmistakable intensity. Logan's were piercing blue, with his stare weak and often unintentional, often very intense.   We had soft, fluffy ebony curls that cascaded down to our shoulders. We often wore it loose and wild, as if we had just rolled out of bed, but it looked stylish and deliberate.   Despite our obvious similarities, we had a few subtle differences. Logan had a small, jagged scar above his left brow, and I had a freckle on my left chin. These minor flaws only served to highlight our very similar features, making it even more unsettling to compare us.   In our werewolf form, We still retained our broad shoulders and muscular build, standing tall on our legs. Our fur is dark brown, almost black, with gray and silver streaks running through it. My deep dark brown eyes turned Black and Logan's, bright gold, In the brightest light of a full moon.   There were some discernible differences between Our werewolf appearance and personalities. Logan has a scar above his left eye that runs all the way down to his snout. It appears to be the result of a deep claw wound that did not heal properly. His ears are also larger and more pointed than mine, giving him a feral appearance.     I, on the other hand, have a white patch of fur on my chest that stands out against my thick dark fur. My eyes are slightly more rounded than my brother's, making me appear friendlier. Furthermore, my claws are shorter and less sharp than Logan's, Making me more dependent on strength, rather than speed.     I had read that book, and the outcome of the people mentioned in that book, in the prophecy. 10 years ago, with Logan.  But now it has become clearer, that it was us all along. I had no disrespect for the supernatural or prophecies from an old guy, who wasn't even alive anymore to validate his claim, except for an old history book. But it would be stupid to mold one's life According to a prophecy from an unproven source, now obviously dead.     Vartek, as described in the Book of Prophecies, was a wizard with incredible power and knowledge. He was tall, with a lean and muscular build, bronze skin, and raven-black hair that flowed down to his waist. His features were chiseled and sharp, with piercing green eyes that seemed to peer deep into the souls of those he spoke to.   He was frequently seen dressed in a long black robe that hung loosely around his frame and was adorned with silver and gold trinkets that jingled and clinked as he moved. His neck was adorned with a silver pentagram, his fingers were long and his nails, sharp and untrimmed, adorned with rings of various metals and gemstones.   Vartek's personality was enigmatic and mysterious; he was often perceived as aloof and distant by those who knew him well, but those who knew him well understood that he was simply guarded and selective about who he let into his inner circle. He was a man of few words, but each one held enormous weight and significance.   It was a strange thing to be a witch and a werewolf at the same time. Saying goes that he was beaten many times on the night of the unholy blood-red full moon. Died and woke up, forgetting who he was, only remembering his new name. Vartek- bringer of doom and Chaos      Vartek's name became synonymous with those who are similarly disruptive and unpredictable. People with this name are said to be troublemakers. Who brought no good even in the slightest.   "A silver pentagram" My mind, wondering, trying to make sense of the image before me, in the rumpled sheets of ancient paper. "I had seen it somewhere before".