The alley was empty, lulled by the distant sound of traffic and the discreet crunch of leaves in the evening breeze. A man walked alone, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched with fatigue. He was a stranger, perhaps an ordinary passerby, or a late worker.
A noise, almost imperceptible, sounded behind him. He stopped abruptly.
"Who's there?" he called out in a tense voice.
Silence. He turned slowly.
Nothing.
Heart pounding, he resumed his walk, his senses on alert. A nervous sigh escaped his lips.
Suddenly, a harsh, almost animal-like breath sounded nearby.
He didn't have time to scream a second time.
Something grabbed him from the shadows.
Her shrill, terrified scream pierced the pitch-black night before abruptly dying away.
In the large, warmly lit dining room, the atmosphere was a stark contrast. Miria and Asher were dining together, steaming soup in front of them, accompanied by fresh bread and cheese. A peaceful atmosphere reigned, punctuated by occasional laughter.
"You're progressing quickly," Asher said with a genuine smile.
Miria looked down, touched.
"Thank you... I hope I'm living up to what's expected of me."
"You already are."
They continued to chat quietly until hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door burst open.
"Asher!" a panicked voice called out.
It was Alix.
Breathless and drawn, she stood at the threshold of the room.
Asher stood up, surprised.
"Alix? What's going on?"
"Someone... a man has just been killed. And the way he died... it's not right."
Asher's eyes widened.
"What do you mean?"
At the same time, Alix, interrupting their conversation, turned on the television mounted on the wall. A special edition of the news had just started. A serious-looking female reporter was talking about a "disturbing incident in the North End."
The screen then displayed a blurred image, then a quick shot of the body discovered by the police.
The corpse lay in a pool of blood. The clothes were torn, as if ripped off by claws. The torso was ripped open, the bones broken, the flesh cut by violent, irregular blows. Gaping bite marks marked the shoulders and neck. The man's gaze, frozen in terror, was still fixed on the sky.
Miria took a step back, her hands covering her mouth.
"My God... What kind of beast could do that?"
Asher stared intently at the screen, his gaze turning cold. He whispered, almost to himself, "It's not a wild beast..."
He turned to them.
"It's a werewolf."
Alix paled.
"Are you sure?"
Asher nodded slowly.
"The markings... the power... the manner of killing... These aren't the signs of an animal. It's calculated. It's signed."
Miria, on the verge of tears, straightened up.
"But... why do they do this? Why kill a man like this...?"