It was getting dark and the moon began to move towards the center of the sky.
It was a night popular with werewolves, with the wind blowing and the forest rattling. But tonight I'm standing on the lawn in front of a symbol Kral drew with a scepter.
"Werewolves who can't shift are mostly weak bloodlines. You need the Moon goddess's blessing." Kral reaches out his black-gloved hand. I nervously put my hand on his palm. He led me, step by step, to the center of the symbol.
"Kneel."
I knelt down reverently and, following Karal's instructions, bit my finger with my teeth and dropped blood into the container he had taken out.
Under the moonlight, black hair covered his face, a dark red cloak as if coagulation of blood. He took spices, herbs, poppy juice, wax, and my blood and mixed them in
