A Tale Of Twilight: The Dawn Of Dark Ages

FUGITIVES OF THE FULL MOON

The last sliver of sun vanished below the horizon, and in its place, a monstrous, luminous eye began its ascent. The full moon, bloated and impossibly bright, cast long, distorted shadows that seemed to claw their way across the landscape. For most, it was a spectacle of beauty. For Sid, it was a ticking clock counting down to a nightmare.

“It’s a full moon today, Sam… and it’s getting all dark already.” Sid’s voice was tight, a thin wire of panic stretched to its breaking point. He paced the cramped, dusty room of their latest hideout, a converted basement that smelled of damp earth and fear. “Hey, Sam… I’m talking to you. We better get going now. I don’t know what will happen this time around. You know what happened last time. I can’t get locked up and tortured again… Hey, Sam, are you even listening to me?”

He stopped his frantic pacing and leaned over his older brother. Sam was sitting at a rickety table, meticulously cleaning a heavy-caliber pistol, his movements slow, deliberate, and utterly focused. He didn’t glance up.

“I can remember explicitly what happened last time,” Sam’s voice was a low, gravelly rumble, devoid of emotion. “Stop being a crybaby. We’re on our way to the safe house, aren’t we?”

Only a rare, disciplined handful of werewolves possessed the iron will to keep the beast caged on a full moon. Sid and Sam were not among that elite group. They were Half-Breeds, their humanity a fragile shell that shattered completely under the moon’s maddening pull. The last time they’d been caught outside, the beast had taken the wheel, and they had woken up hours later in a government containment cell, their bodies aching, their memories a blur of blood and screaming, their skin marked by the silver-laced whips of their captors.

“Sam… it’s still very fresh in my head,” Sid whispered, his voice cracking. The memory wasn’t just of the torture. It was the shame, the loss of control, the terrifying void where their consciousness used to be. “Mom, Dad, Susan… everyone. Their deaths still haunt me. Why did they have to die?” Tears, hot and shameful, welled in his eyes, tracing clean lines through the grime on his cheeks.

“Just shut it, Sid,” Sam said, his tone final. He still didn’t look up, his attention locked on the gleam of the pistol’s barrel. His refusal to engage was a wall, one Sid had been beating against for over a year.

Their world operated on a different timescale than the vampires. Where a Ventrue king could reign for five centuries, accumulating wealth, power, and ennui, a werewolf’s life was a brief, brutal flare. They aged nearly as fast as humans, their lives a constant struggle for dominance and survival. Alpha challenges were frequent, bloody affairs, and the consequences of loss were absolute.

The code of the Lupines was merciless: when an Alpha fell, his entire line was extinguished. No survivors, no heirs, no seeds for future vengeance. It was a brutal, efficient system designed to maintain a fragile peace.

Sid and Sam were the ghosts that rule had created. They had watched their father, Edward, the Alpha of their pack, die under the same kind of full moon that now haunted them. The memory was a wound that refused to scar over.

***

*That night had been deceptively beautiful. The sky was a vast, black velvet sheet, and the moon wasn’t just full; it was a colossal, glaring eye, a one-eyed god staring down at their peaceful community.*

*Their pack was known for its tranquility. Unlike the scheming, ancient vampires, werewolves understood the monster within. Knowing how arduous it was to control the beast once provoked, they cultivated peace with a desperate fervor. Edward, their father, was the embodiment of this. By day, he was a meticulous, well-respected accountant, a man who provided for his twelve children—a small litter by werewolf standards—with quiet dignity. By night, he was a leader of immense strength and profound gentleness.*

*But peace is a fragile thing.*

*Harry Arnold, a rookie in his prime but a veteran in arrogance, was a Full Breed—a wolf who carried his power even in human form. He was ninety years of hunger and ambition, and he jonesed for power with a single-minded obsession. He claimed to be the “one true Alpha,” and that night, he came to collect.*

*The blissful night was torn apart by screams. Sid and Sam, hidden by their mother’s frantic orders, watched from an upstairs window as Harry painted their father’s court in blood and viscera. The volunteer guards, good men and women, were torn apart. They were no match for the ruthless, calculating fury of Harry Jayden.*

*Finally, Edward emerged from his home. His face, usually warm and patient, was a mask of grief and building rage. “Enough!” his voice boomed, cracking with emotion. “Please, don’t put your lives on the line for me!” He turned to Harry, tears of frustration in his eyes. “What do you want in my court? Why are you attacking my men?”*

*Harry, drenched in the blood of Sid’s friends, merely grinned. “What do I want? Hmmm, let’s see… I think I want your attention and—”*

*“You wanted my attention?” Edward’s voice dropped, shifting from a man’s cry to a monster’s guttural growl. His body began to contort, the first signs of the transformation rippling under his skin. “Why did my men have to die? Well, now you’ve got it. Be careful what you wish for.”*

*“Oohhh, scary,” Harry mocked, chuckling. Then his own face hardened, his eyes glowing with a feral yellow light as his own transformation began. “Now, now… I’ve got your attention, that’s one thing. You didn’t let me finish. I also want your head.”*

*“Is that a challenge?” Edward asked, forcibly pulling his humanity back, his body settling into its human form. The formalities of the duel had to be observed.*

*“I am the one true Alpha. Time to move on, old man.”*

*“You had to destroy half of my men to do this?” Edward’s voice was dangerously calm.*

*“Sorry, my man. What do they call it? Hmmm… Yeah. Collateral damage. It’s just collateral damage.”*

*Edward’s smile was cold, a predator’s promise. “Collateral damage, you say? Well, I’ll see you at the duel ground. We can’t possibly have a decent fight here.” He paused, the cold smile widening. “I’ll make it snappy and painless. I’ll be merciful.”*

*“Thanks. But you shouldn’t be so cocky, old man. You don’t know what’s in store for you.” With a sickening, casual cruelty, Harry thrust his claw-tipped hand into the skull of a wounded guard lying at his feet. The sound was wet and final. “He was going to die anyway. I was only helping.”*

*Edward’s smile vanished, but he held his ground, his entire body trembling with the effort of containing his rage.*

***

*The duel ground was the Valley of Ephrah, an ancient, abandoned coliseum where the moonlight was concentrated by the natural bowl of the hills into a searing, silver spotlight. At the stroke of midnight, the place was packed with every important Lupine from across the territories. The air thrummed with anticipation and dread.*

*The combatants stood in the center of the ring-like stage. Above them, a heavy stone lid covered an oculus in the roof. The removal of that lid was the starting pistol. When it was lifted, a pillar of pure, concentrated moonlight fell upon them, an irresistible trigger that forced their transformation instantly.*

*Two enormous wolves, one grizzled and powerful (Edward), the other younger, sleeker, and burning with manic energy (Harry), faced each other. Edward gathered himself to launch the first attack, a lifetime of experience behind the move.*

*But as he pushed off, his right leg buckled, gone strangely numb and wobbly. He stumbled, crashing down to one knee. He stared at his limb, confused—it was perfectly intact, yet it refused to obey.*

*It was all the opening Harry needed. He was on Edward in a flash, a blur of teeth and claws, slashing deep furrows into his hide. Edward roared in pain and surprise, scrambling backward to create space. He shook his head, the numbness receding as quickly as it had come.*

*“Playing dirty, are we?” Edward growled, a smirk on his wolfish features despite the blood matting his fur.*

*“You’re not one to back out from a fight, are you?” Harry taunted, circling him. “I wouldn’t mind an automatic victory, though.” His laughter was a harsh, barking sound.*

*“You’re sly. I like it. I know your kind,” Edward snarled. Now with full control of his body, he launched a ferocious attack. He was a tempest of fury, a legend in action. One powerful blow from his paw connected with Harry’s jaw with a sound like cracking stone, sending the younger wolf flying eight meters into the air.*

*As Edward reared back for a finishing blow, it happened again. A wave of total paralysis washed over him. Every muscle locked. He stood, frozen, a statue of helpless rage.*

*Harry landed, shook off the stunning blow, and smiled. It was a horrifying sight on the beast’s face. He charged.*

*“Guess you didn’t see this coming,” Harry hissed, his voice a distorted thing between man and wolf. “Say hello to Hendrick in hell for me.”*

*The last thing Sid saw from his hiding place was Harry’s claws, gleaming in the moonlight, descending in a final, brutal arc. The last thing he heard was the wet, tearing sound that severed his world into a ‘before’ and an ‘after.’*

***

The memory was a film reel of horror playing behind Sid’s eyes every night. Their father’s death was just the beginning. The code demanded the rest. Their mother, their sisters, their brothers… all wiped out. They had escaped by a thread, two boys fleeing into a world that wanted them dead, their survival a constant, exhausting act of defiance.

“The chains, Sid,” Sam’s voice cut through the memory, harsh and practical. The moon’s pull was becoming a physical force, a buzzing in their blood, a pressure behind their eyes.

They moved to the far wall of the basement, where heavy, silver-alloy chains were bolted to the stone. The metal was cold and hateful against their skin, already beginning to burn faintly. They began the grim ritual, wrapping the links around their wrists and ankles, securing the locks. It was a prison, but it was the only thing that stood between them and the monsters they became.

As the last lock clicked shut, the moon reached its peak. Its light, filtering through a grimy high window, seemed to intensify. A low growl started deep in Sam’s chest, an involuntary sound that had nothing to do with the man he was. Sid began to whimper, his body shaking violently against the cold chains.

The transformation wasn’t a choice. It was a surrender. And as their bones began to crack and reshape, their humanity was once again dragged into the dark, leaving only the beast, the memory of blood, and the cold, unforgiving silver that held them.