The moon hung above the forest like a pale, unblinking eye, casting silver light over the clearing where Luciano Kerens knelt before the altar. The stone was cracked, its surface lined with ancient runes that pulsed faintly as if echoing with memories. The sigils carved into Luciano's flesh glowed in answer, burning with a familiar fire that licked beneath his skin.
The storm had passed, but the air was thick with silence. Not peace—never peace. Just the stillness before a howl.
Luciano didn't shiver. Cold no longer moved him. What chilled him now was memory. Blood on his hands. Ashes in his throat. His soul tethered to a demon's laughter and the names he couldn't forget.
He reached out and laid one hand on the altar. The stone pulsed beneath his touch.
"Still bound," he whispered. The words floated up like smoke, absorbed by the trees.
A branch snapped behind him.
His breath froze. Slowly, he turned.
Between the trunks, a figure stepped into view. The moonlight caught the glint of claws—curved and obsidian-black. Then came the eyes: gold, burning, filled with a fury that had no bottom.
Sanathiel.
Not a name. A verdict.
The wolf-boy had grown. Taller now. Leaner. Radiating rage like heat off stone. His breathing was deep, controlled only by force of will.
**"Come to confess, Kerens? Or are you still pretending to pray?"
Luciano stood slowly.**
"You're alive."
Sanathiel snarled. His lips curled back to reveal long, white fangs. His hands flexed, claws extending with the soft, sick sound of tendons stretching.
"Alive? That depends. On whether this... thing you created still counts."
Luciano glanced at the medallion around Sanathiel's neck. A silver wolf howling at a full moon. The one he'd given him, long ago. Back when he thought redemption could be forged like iron.
"You haven't changed," he said, voice low.
"And you still lie," Sanathiel snapped. **"You burned my home. My family. You think I don't remember the screams? The scent of fire and blood?"
His voice broke on the last word.**
Luciano lowered his eyes. "That wasn't the plan."
"But it was the cost."
From the woods behind Sanathiel, the wind carried with it the distant echo of howls. Not wolves. Not truly. Something darker. Something watching.
Sanathiel stepped forward. Fur erupted from his arms, climbing up his neck like wildfire. His transformation was sudden, savage. Bones cracked and reshaped. White hair burst from his skin like needles.
"You made me."
"I tried to save you."
**"You sold me. To a demon!"
Luciano stumbled back. The runes across his arms began to blaze. The pact was awakening. Not just Sanathiel's rage—the very magic that had stitched their lives together like broken glass.
"There was no other way. I saw your body, your eyes... gone. I begged him."
"And now you'll beg me."
Sanathiel lunged.
Their bodies collided with the altar, stone chipping beneath the force. Luciano tried to mutter a binding rune, but Sanathiel's claws were already at his throat.
"No more tricks," the wolf growled. **"No more lies. Show me the truth."
A pulse of silver light exploded from Sanathiel's eyes. The medallion on his chest flared. Visions slammed into Luciano's mind:
The past. The pact. A demon's smile in the dark.
A burning village and ruin: Esperanza del Ciervo.
A screaming child.
Sanathiel, dead and cold, before the deal was made.
Luciano choked. **"I thought... if I gave him something... I could bring you back."
*"He wanted pain. And you gave him me."
Suddenly, a blade pierced Sanathiel's ribs.
"Not your stage, little brother," Noah sneered, stepping from the trees. His red eyes gleamed with hunger.
Sanathiel howled and turned, swiping a claw. Noah danced back, laughing.
"The demon wants a finale, Sanathiel. Don't end the act too soon."
Sanathiel threw Luciano aside. The older man rolled across the snow, coughing black blood.
The medallion fell. It shattered on the rocks, a silver wolf fractured into pieces.
From the darkness, something answered Sanathiel's howl. A sound older than wolves. Deeper than hatred.
The forest trembled.
A third player entered the stage.