The Crimson Howl

Chapter 1: The Healer’s Journey

On his knees, hands steady but trembling as a fellow pack member was being tended to, the bandage now on a deep gash on the shoulder, Elliot tended to it. There was an antiseptic scent of bitter-sweet blood and the earthy smell of the ancient forest that surrounded their village. They had fallen into that routine, a simple one many people had, but each injury brought with it the weight of past mistakes, the fresh wound serving as a reminder of the nice life they led—one all tangled in rage and bloodshed.

Elliot tightened the bandage and the pack member winced. The voice wasn’t quite as strained as it had been… but it still hurt. “It hurts, healer.”

Their eyes searched the wounded face for reassurance, saying, “I know.” “But you’re strong. You’ll heal.”

But they masked behind their words, shimmering in fear. The scars from a history Elliot once had the power to heal bore themselves upon his hands: the history of a werewolf who himself had been defeated by the very beast they fought against. In those fleeting moments, as they worked, flashes of their own transformation flickered in the corners of their minds: It was the thrill of it, the raw power pumping through their veins, the horribly guilty guilt that hit them when they woke up, staring blankly into the twisted flesh of what they had done.

Elliot stepped back and took a deep breath to try and force the memories down. The pack’s infirmary was heavy air, the air felt heavy with tension, and they glanced around the room. A moan, usually the chatter of the pack members, had grown hushed, their faces pinched and thoughtful. It was coming; the blood moon darkening their community. The wolves in the far hills were said to be changing, to transform; behaving strangely.

Mara, with a young pack member, whispered: 'Have you heard?' "Arlo couldn’t control himself last night." When he shoots a deer, he does not stop it when dead. 'He just... tore into it.”

A chill ran down their spines. “I wouldn’t want to sound like that.” They tried to cover up the fear that was beginning to fill their stomachs.

A third nodded their brow, 'Some say the blood moon brings out the worst of us.' “It’s like we forget who we are.”

As they spoke, Elliot glanced over towards Lyra, their nearest friend and confidant; she was sitting in a corner of her room, her eyes glazed over. Lyra’s bright eyes looked worn and caring with unbroken sorrow. She was bearing the burden of the omen of the blood moon on her. With such transformations, Elliot’s heart clenched at the sight that they had seen the damage they had seen, taken both physically and emotionally.

“Elliot,” Lyra called, as he started to step towards her. “Are you alright?”

The haunted gaze that her eyes had, she looked up at. She replied so quickly, her face flitted with pain. "I was just… thinking about the blood moon." We have never been a safe time, have we?”

Their voice was barely more than a whisper, 'Yeah.' The dreadful fear gnawing through their throats was a reminder of the nightmares that loomed over the horizon. “But we’ll be ready for it. We always are.”

However, her eyes did not show back the faint, sorrowful smile that curled in at her lips. She asked softly, her voice almost quivering, 'Will we, you know?' “What if… what is if I don’t survive it this time either?”

The words had hit them like a physical blow and Elliot’s breath hitched in their throat. They moved closer, their voices sounded urgent, 'Don’t say that!'. “You’re strong, Lyra. You’ve seen it all, you fight. We all will.”

Glancing away such that the very mention of it could call the darkness all would fear, she whispered, "But the blood moon, it changes everything." There's something… shifting inside me.”

Her confession was hefted in the air like a weight; heavy, foreboding. She saw Elliot reach out, and their fingers grabbed at her hand, intertwining. “You won’t be alone. I promise. “We always do whatever comes, and we do it together.”

Her eyes were bursting with unshed tears as she met their gaze. Each one's mind froze in time as the world around them became distorted for a moment. Just two of them, joined by a friendship forged from previous times. It was in a cloak of the specter of the blood moon and an ever-present reminder of the struggle that lay ahead.

As the day progressed, Elliot continued to care for the wounded, only in an attempt to avoid thoughts of the blood moon being discussed. It only got worse with every hour passing. How could they protect their pack from an enemy living within them? To what might become of those beasts upon the rising of the blood moon and its deadly crimson glow over the land?

An hour later that night, as the sun boiled itself to nothing, Elliot stood outside, looking up at the stars. They could see the chill of the air, the forerunning of the storm to come. The flicker of hope looked like each twinkling light.

Behind them, a voice called, ‘Elliot.’ But it had been Rafe the mysterious exiled wolf that had been a force of mystery and mystery of the force of the pack. Seriously, he stepped closer. “We need to talk.”

“What is it?” His tone was urgent, so Elliot asked.

Rafe looked out into the forest and hesitated. “It’s about the blood moon. This has happened before but it is different. It is not simply the influence of the moon. Something else is going on.”

A knot tightened in his stomach when Elliot felt it. “What do you mean?”

“So I think someone’s trying to manipulate it.” It’s too coordinated, too deliberate, too much a transformation, too much aggression. “It may be a threat that crosses the moon.”

Laying Elliott's thunderclap implications of Rafe's words. A deliberate manipulation? The thought was horrifying. “What can we do?”

He stepped closer, intensity burning in his eyes." We must prepare. ‘‘We’ve got to find where this comes from, or it is going to be too late.’’

A howl split the night before Elliot could say anything. Another, more frantic, echoed through the silence. A howl filled with fear.

Elliot breathed out and fear whimpered through his chest, his eyes widening, “Lyra.”

Rafe urged them to run, and they ran out into the darkness, hearts slamming away, shadows coming for them, just how they wanted to, to reveal the Horror of the blood moon.

Now, while ghosts ran, Elliot’s thoughts were racing. From the blood moon or anything else, they could not lose Lyra. She had to be saved, for them, for them all. But as they raced toward the source of the howls, a chilling realization settled in, only just starting though it was still night.

The forest hugged around them, the trees above them reaching high into the night as if they had gone skeletal, and their branches like skeletal fingers. The weight of fear had already slowed their breath, and it was threatening to slow them down. Lyra cried out, a horrible song hauntingly inescapable like a night tearing even further apart with each step made.

Rafe was sticking low and firm, “Stay close.” “We have to keep finding each other out here.”

They determinedly pushed through the underbrush and nodded to each other. There was a feeling of tension in the air, and they could all feel it tighten around them, like a noosing shroud. The howls became desperate cries, answered like thunder through the trees, causing panic in Elliot’s heart.

‘Lyra!’. The name stabbed from their throats as they plunged deeper into the darkness.

They could see her. Lyra stood near the edge of a clearing, her body tense, a ragged gasp of breath entering her lungs. She looked ethereal, the light of the moon bright enough to show around her figure. Something was wrong, they flickered, her eyes, with a feral intensity, a wildness, and a chill raced down Elliot’s spine.

“Lyra!” The sound of Elliot’s calling barely cut through the haze of her transformation.

She warned, her voice harsh and urgent, “Stay back!” “I can’t… I can’t control it!”

Rafe slowly approached Elliot’s side, keeping his eyes narrowed at what the situation currently looked like. 'She's losing herself,' he added, in a barely audible voice. “It has to be now, or it will be too late.”

“Lyra, listen to me!” The fear was battling the instinct to run, Elliot shouted as he stepped closer. “You’re stronger than this! Fight it!”

Lyra’s muscles tensed, struggling against the beast clawing its way to the surface, and her form began to ripple. And the shadows danced around her, flickering like lost spirits taunting each bit of resolve she had. “I’m trying! But it’s… it’s too strong!”

When they saw their friend fighting back against herself, their hearts shattered. Wrapping their fingers around his arm, they immediately grabbed hold, hoping the connection between them could find a way to pierce this veil that would swallow her whole. “You’re not alone! Remember who you are! Remember us!”

The wildness in Lyra’s eyes flickered like a candle in a storm; for a moment her expression softened. The recognition broke through the chaos, and she breathed, “Elliot…” She never got to understand it, before the beast inside of her surged, and her body convulsed violently.

“Hold on, Lyra! Please!” Step even closer, defiance raging in their chest, Elliot begged. They could not let her go. They would not.

As they felt as though they rushed toward her, she emitted a low growl deep inside of her, as though it were a dark promise. It twisted his gut. ‘Stay away!’ they yelled, their voices turned primal, filled with the rush of their tears and wounded battle.

“Fight it, Lyra! You’re stronger than this!” Lyra was transforming; she was contorting into a shape they had not seen before, a big--rage, instinct-fueled beast of wolf and human combination, spit from the back of her eyes, tears from time of tears, but at that moment Rafe shouted as he tried to close the gap, but Lyra was already transforming.

With the electricity in the air crackling, the woods vibrating with a strange energy that crawled up Elliot’s skin, it was the air that Elliot felt crawling across his skin. And they were afraid as a vice, but determination consumed their fire. “Lyra! You’re a healer, too! Remember your training! You can control it!”

Lyra paused then at the tug of the beast and the pull of humanity. With the chaos she was screaming, ‘Elliott… help me.’

Before Elliot could answer, there was a piercing howl through the night, a challenge that echoed through the trees against him. It wasn’t a call, it was a declaration, it was a warning. The clearing seemed to fall under the first blood moon of its kind; its blood moon glaring down from overhead, casting its crimson glow over everything, leaving it bathed in an ominous light.

“Lyra!” The moment stretched infinitely and, briefly, time, Elliot cried.

She let out a howl, a howl resonating against the night, part grief, part defiance, and then, like some compulsion from the moon, she howled. It rolled over the landscape like an unearthly chorus, a distant shiver running in the forest. The thought of their friend looming over the edge of the abyss gripped fear into them like ice and, like an unwelcome visitor, its presence filled Elliot’s heart with fear.

Tension wound his muscles, and Rafe stepped closer. “Help me and bring her back!” needed to hold her. On three, we—”

The underbrush rustled, and the air crackled with danger as they turned to look before he could finish. A tall, dark, menacing figure appeared from the shadows. An aura of power that followed him from that exiled wolf’s eyes which glinted with malice.

‘‘You think you can save her?” sneered the figure. ‘‘Contempt in their voice.’’ “You’re too late. The wild one is the blood moon.”

Panic surged through their throats, and Elliot’s breath caught. They felt the heat of desperation rise up in their fists, ‘Get away from her’ they shouted.

Yet the exiled wolf just laughed, and the sound was frighteningly loud in the clearing. “It’s the time of the blood moon.” You can’t go against what is meant to be. It’s breaking down, and soon only the strongest will remain.”

Fearing that they needed to act, the three of them dug in their heels, both the woman and the man holding onto the 술희 at the same time. Indeed, 'Lyra!' they shouted; their voices cut through the blackness. “Remember who you are! You’re not just a wolf, you’re our pack! You belong with us!”

Inside her, the battle raged in her eyes. “Elliot… I…”

And in that split second everything changed as the exiled wolf lunged forward. It twisted time, stole focus from the world, narrowed to a single point, and then Elliot felt his primal instinct to protect his friend boil within him. They shouted as they launched themselves towards Lyra.

It was electric tension, the moment was a catatonic void as Elliot dived to catch her. “Lyra, hold on!” Her fingers were entwined with their fingers, grasping to not be alone.

The others grabbed her hand, hoping to be attached.

That is when something changes. There was a surge of force through them, a bond made of pain and love. Lyra's fear, her anger, her pain; all of it — all of it was there, in the most absolute chaos, and then they both felt a flicker of light. They all pleaded, “Fight it!” Desperation was heard in their voices. “You are stronger than this! We will fight together!”

That bond made something burn inside of Lyra. Now her eyes grew wide, and she knew what she would do. She grunted like a beast, forcing it back, before crying out this time, "Elliot!"

They sniffed the exiled wolf, but the snarl they heard was too late. The connection between Elliot and Lyra pulsed a brilliant light into a fight with the dark attempting to consume them both. As though the light was something that barred the approaching nightmare, the surrounding shadows rolled back away.

Rafe added his voice there now, standing at their side, and they called out in a rallying cry of their own. “Together! We are stronger together!”

Together they each used their power to push the encroaching darkness back with roots tied together hard, like roots that burrowed into the dirt to pull it from the past, love, and hope.

Lyra’s howl changed as the beast in her cried out, making a cry of defiance. She let out one last surge of energy, howling, throwing her head back and the sound reverberated through the night proclaiming to herself, proclaiming to her will to live.

It took the ferocity of their bond back a step. They hissed it, retreated into the shadows, and left an echo of their threat.

Everything in the clearing was wrapped in silence except for the soft glow of the blood, and then the light faded. He panted, he could feel it prying a weight of exhaustion over them, like a shroud. They turned to Lyra, who was wide-eyed with shock and disbelief, but as far as I could tell, they had been much nicer than before.

“I… She stared it down, trembling as she recovered herself, “I fought it.” “I didn’t think I could.”

Relieved, they took one, then another step closer. “You did, Lyra. He also added ‘You’re so much stronger than you know.’

They turned as one to see pride twisted by concern in Rafe’s expression, who joined them. “But we need to be careful. This is just the beginning. “We’re not out of the blood moon yet.”

Together they looked out into the clearing under the moon’s watch, just knowing the war against the darkness within was still not won. The blood moon rose behind them now, and now they would join their blood in strength and love to fight what darkness would bring.

It was a deep-breathed Elliot over our heads; the insane, unnatural weight of the night. “We’ll figure it out. Their voices coming together were steady.

Around them, the howls of the night rang in their ears, letting them know that while blood warred for their existence, they could make it through the blackness as long as they moved like a unit.