A Calm Morning

The dimly lit room was thick with the scent of herbal salves and burnt incense, the air still shimmering faintly with traces of magic. Desmond slumped in a wooden chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on his battered body as a witch tended to his wounds. Her hands glowed softly as she pressed them against his injured arm, the warmth of healing magic seeping into his muscles and bones. Slowly, the dull ache faded, torn flesh mending and fractures knitting together with practiced ease.

After a few minutes, the witch pulled back, rolling her shoulders as if the effort had drained her. She gave Desmond's newly healed arm a sharp slap, earning a startled flinch from him.

"Good thing you've got a werewolf's regeneration," she muttered. "Makes my job easier."

Desmond chuckled softly, flexing his arm to test it. "Thanks."

She didn't reply, only offering a slight bow as the door creaked open. A new presence entered the room.

Vilma.

The leading witch from the battle strode in with her usual air of calm authority. Her sharp, calculating eyes swept over Desmond before she crossed to a small table in the corner. Without a word, she picked up a cup of tea—his tea—and took a slow, deliberate sip.

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "That was mine, you know."

Vilma ignored him. The witch who had healed Desmond bowed and quietly excused herself, slipping out and locking the door behind her.

Desmond sighed, rolling his now-healed shoulder. "So," he asked, "how are they?"

Vilma swirled the tea in her cup before answering. "The hunter is strong. He's not fully healed, but with the spells cast on him, his recovery will be swift." She took another sip, then looked at Desmond with a neutral expression. "His left eye, though… it's gone. No magic can bring it back."

Desmond nodded grimly. "I see…" A moment of silence passed before he asked, "And Adam?"

Vilma placed the cup down gently, her gaze narrowing slightly as she regarded him.

"That man is… peculiar."

Desmond frowned. "What do you mean?"

Leaning back, Vilma's eyes locked with his. "He's cursed, Desmond."

Desmond's expression hardened. "Cursed? By what?"

"A fairy," she replied with a sigh.

The room grew quiet, the weight of her words settling over them. Desmond's mind raced. He had seen all kinds of magic—werewolves, witches, enchantments—but fairy magic was something else entirely.

"Explain," he demanded.

Vilma tilted her head slightly, her smirk returning. "That kind of information isn't free."

Desmond groaned, rubbing his temples. "Vilma, just tell me."

"Fine," she relented with a sly grin. "But you owe me."

She leaned forward, her voice turning more serious. "Adam bears a curse placed upon him by a powerful fairy. And from what I've seen… it's still active."

Desmond clenched his fists. This was getting more complicated by the minute.

"What kind of curse?" he asked.

"The kind that doesn't break easily," Vilma replied, her smirk fading.

She paused for a moment, then added, "That boy was cursed to become a beast."

Desmond blinked. "What? He's human. He even has innate powers."

"Yes," Vilma nodded, "but he's just like you. Maybe that's why he can still shift back to human form."

Desmond's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Vilma's gaze didn't waver. "Adam is one of your kin."

Desmond's disbelief was evident. "What? That's impossible."

"When I treated him, his wounds healed faster than normal. And… he shifted, Desmond. Just like one of you."

"That can't be," Desmond muttered, shaking his head. "Our kind can't have innate powers unless blessed with mana or chi. And Adam… I didn't sense a shred of energy in him."

Vilma nodded. "Exactly. That's why he's weak. His body is too fragile to handle everything going on inside him."

She leaned forward, voice lower now. "Adam is blessed with a frost-related bloodline, but he also carries the blood of a werewolf. Two opposing forces clashing within him, weakening his magic and his body. Without magic, even a normal werewolf could overpower him."

Desmond exhaled sharply, rubbing his chin. "But… if he's so weak, how has he survived?"

"Luck," Vilma replied. "The fairy's curse acts as a mediator between his conflicting bloodlines. But if that curse is ever broken…" She trailed off, the unspoken consequences hanging heavily in the air. "It would be disastrous."

Vilma stood up abruptly, brushing off her robe. "Well, I'm done here."

She walked toward the door but paused, pulling a small, worn book from her cloak and dropping it onto the table. "Give that to him. It might help him… a little."

Without waiting for a response, she left, the door clicking shut behind her. Desmond sighed, staring at the book in front of him.

From the hallway, Vilma's voice echoed back to him. "Don't forget your payment."

Desmond smirked, grabbing the book as he stood. "Yeah, yeah…"

With that, he left the room as well, the weight of what he had just learned pressing down on him.

_______

Adam groggily opened his eyes, staring at the wooden ceiling above him. His body felt heavy, but the familiar weight of exhaustion was comforting in its own way.

"Ahh… I'm alive," he muttered to himself.

"Yeah, man. You are," came a voice from his left.

Adam turned his head, blinking away the haze. There, sitting in a chair, was Desmond, casually peeling an apple with a small knife. The rhythmic sound of the blade slicing through the fruit was oddly soothing.

"Hey, are you okay now?" Adam asked, pushing himself up to lean against the wall.

Desmond nodded, offering a faint smile. "I am. What about you?"

"I think I'm goo—" Adam froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he noticed the claws extending from his fingers and the soft fur covering his arms. He wasn't in his human form. Panic flickered across his face until Desmond's voice cut through the tension.

"Didn't know you were one of us, huh?"

Adam chuckled dryly, scratching the back of his head. "Heh… looks like I'm busted."

"Yeah, you are." Desmond grinned, handing him a slice of the apple. "I won't pry into your life story, but... you gotta help us rebuild this town a little."

Adam took the apple slice, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smirk. "Heh, I will."

Desmond stood, stretching slightly as he made his way to the door. Before leaving, he turned back and tossed a worn book onto Adam's lap.

"Read this," Desmond said with a teasing grin. "Might help you."

Adam raised an eyebrow but held the book close. "Thanks."

As Desmond opened the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Almost forgot to ask—do you know where Ruby is?"

"Ruby?" Adam thought for a moment, running through his hazy memories. "If I remember right, she went to New Orleans with Belle and her father. Something about presenting one of his inventions."

"I see," Desmond replied, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "That's good then. Rest up and help us when you're ready."

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Adam alone with his thoughts.

Adam leaned back against the pillows, letting out a long breath. He turned his head to the window beside him, where the clear blue sky stretched endlessly beyond the glass. The events of the past few days weighed heavily on him, but for the first time in a while, he allowed himself a small, genuine smile.

"What a way to start the morning" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.