Chapter 16: What Comes Next

Chapter 16: What Comes Next

andrewokelley.com

I looked at Atticus in horror as I struggled to process what it was he had said. Kill him now? I can’t do that, I’m not a murderer. “Come on man,” I told him, “We can figure this out, maybe we can figure out a way to cure you. Don’t give it up.”

Atticus started to bitterly laugh as he fell on to his hands and knees and coughed up a bit of blood on to the floor. “You can’t cure this, nobody can. It’s a death sentence unless I kill all of you and I won’t allow myself to become a monster, not after all I’ve done. I can’t. You need to kill me. Here, I’ll make it easy for you.”

He struggled to steady himself before standing up and then reached into his pocket. Atticus pulled out a short knife and thrust it into my hands, and I couldn’t help but notice the blisters just holding it left in his while the knife gleamed with a silver edge. “I took this from Castle Bran. It’s the first time I was able to get it.” He explained as his body started to intensively ripple as the effect of the curse worked on his body.

Christopher, he’s right. You need to kill him now. You can’t even run from him, once he changes form, he will kill you without hesitation. Once the change is closer that Silver knife will be fatal to him. Fel cautioned and I knew she was right. Even then I could see the changes in front of me as Atticus’s eyes started to widen and take on a golden hue.

For the first time, I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t a murderer, this wasn’t the sort of person that I am. Atticus noticed my hesitation, and even in the midst of the change, his face hardened with personal resolve. Atticus tried to grant me a small mercy and took both of my hands and clasped them together. “It’s fine, this was a big thing to ask of you.”

His voice had a tone of finality to it, and with a suddenness that surprised me, he thrust the knife forward towards himself and it embedded itself in the center of his chest as his skin began to bubble and burn away at the touch of the silver blade.

I recoiled away as Atticus fell to his knees. The skin around knife wound began to blacken and crack as it pulled away from the wound as if gangrenous and fell to the ground in flakes. Atticus looked to be in agony though his death was fast acting, his last words before his body collapsed into a heap of dust were, “Maybe now I can finally see them.”

Where Atticus had been previously, only dust remained and I knew immediately that something fundamental had changed for me as my collar began to grow hot and my skin started to itch, feeling almost as if worms were crawling under my skin.

Oh no Christopher, Fel said with regret in the wisps voice. You will manage this too. Its ok.

!Alert!

The Cursed One Has been killed. As he had not yet taken his Werewolf form, the kill will not be counted. Instead a new Werewolf will be selected for this night.

*****

Even with though I felt hot as if my skin was on fire, a chill fell upon the room as the shadows started to cloister together and from within them the Dread God Falanor arose.

“Count yourself lucky that I’ve found an interest in you,” Falanor stated as he reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a lifeless orb of creation and held it over Atticus’s ashes. “Otherwise I’d have killed you for this offense. Nobody ends my game early my boy. Haven’t you heard? The house always wins.”

Do not upset him Christopher, Fel cautioned and I could sense an aura of fear radiating from the wisp. This is our only chance to live.

Falanor looked at me and then looked at the wisp that was bound to me. “And you Fel, have you taught this boy nothing? Have you learned nothing? Three times you’ve played my game, and yet here you are still making mistakes.”

The wisp floated away from me and for a moment I thought I saw the image of a young girl, eerily similar in appearance to the girl behind the Hagraven’s mask. “I have tried to keep him alive Lord Falanor, as has been the custom of wisps for as long as I’ve been involved in the game.”

The dark god nodded for a moment, before an impossibly strong hand shot out and seized the wisp, dragging it towards him as the dead Orb of Creation started to pulse with life and draw the wisp towards it. “Ah, not quite,” Falanor muttered as he pulled the Orb away from the Wisp.

“Christopher,” He said looking at me as the sounds of my skin splitting tore into my ears and my body warped, “You’re my wolf now. If you should manage to kill somebody tonight, I will restore your wisp to you, if you don’t, your wisp will be consumed by the orb.”

I tried to respond but couldn’t as my jaws started to extend and my spine curved as my body began to change into something monstrous. When I could lift up my head, I found my vision had changed to a dull grey, voiding most colors. The dread dark seemed pleased with himself as he summoned a portal of darkness in the wall of the farmhouse and stepped through it, leaving me behind in his wake.

! Personalized Alert!

You are the Wolf. Soon the transformation will be complete, but beware once the night is over, you will return to your vulnerable human form. Every day that follows, days will shorten, and nights will be longer. You have been charged with one goal, survive to kill all the humans.

My body began to grow and dark hairs started to erupt out of my skin as the teeth in my mouth elongated like sharp fangs.

!Alert!

Night approaching in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

******

As soon as the dark hit, the transformation was complete. I really am the wolf.