The Blood Moon Siege

A cold wind passed through Eldermere, but it carried no relief from the rising tension. Instead, it brought the scent of damp earth and something more sinister—a metallic sharpness that burned the senses. The village had never been this silent, the air never this thick with unspoken fear. Even the torches along the wooden barricades flickered weakly, as if hesitant to illuminate the night.

Aric stood near the gate, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. Every instinct in his body screamed danger. The past few days had been filled with unease, but this was something else entirely. The howls had stopped. The usual rustling of the forest had gone still. The wolves were here, but they weren't moving.

Lira was beside him, adjusting the grip on her bow. "They're smarter than before," she muttered. She wasn't asking. She knew.

"They're watching us," Aric replied. His gaze never left the treeline.

The others were starting to sense it too. Garrick stood at the barricade, shifting his spear in his hands. Below them, the villagers waited—some gripping weapons, others simply clutching each other. The fight had not yet begun, and already, the fear was sinking in.

Kael stood a short distance away, his usual smirk absent. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he looked skyward. Aric followed his gaze and felt his stomach tighten.

The moon hung low in the sky, bathed in deep crimson.

It wasn't the red of an autumn harvest or a distant eclipse. This was something darker, something unnatural. The blood-colored glow warped the world below, casting long shadows that stretched unnaturally across the village ground. The crimson light seeped into the trees, turning the edges of the forest into something hungry and alive.

A murmur spread through the crowd. Aric heard one of the villagers whisper something about curses, another muttering prayers under his breath. Elder Mara, standing near the well, exhaled a slow, knowing breath.

"The Blood Moon," she murmured. "It means death."

The words had barely settled in the air when the first howl came.

Long. Low. Hungry.

Then another.

Then dozens, their voices weaving into a chorus of bloodlust and hunger that rattled the bones.

Then the sound of pounding paws against the earth.

The wolves were coming.

A shudder ran through the barricade as something massive slammed into it. Wood groaned against the impact. Then another crash. Then another.

A sudden crack split the air, and before Aric could react, a section of the right gate exploded inward.

A massive black-furred beast leaped through the splintered wood, its golden eyes burning like torches in the darkness. Its claws dug deep into the earth, its lips curled back in a snarl.

Then it lunged.

The nearest villager barely had time to scream before the wolf's jaws found his throat. The sound of tearing flesh was drowned by the deafening roar of battle.

"Hold the line!" Garrick bellowed. "Archers, loose!"

Lira's bow snapped taut. Arrows whistled through the air, piercing into the horde of wolves surging through the breach. Some fell, their bodies jerking as they collapsed, but others barely staggered before continuing forward.

The first wave hit hard. Too hard.

A hunter swung his axe—too slow. A wolf crashed into him, its teeth sinking deep into his shoulder. He screamed, struggling, but another wolf joined, tearing into his leg. The scream cut off in a gurgling choke.

Aric's sword was already moving, steel flashing in the torchlight. He met the first beast head-on, his blade sinking deep into its ribcage—but it didn't fall.

Instead, it turned toward him, still breathing, still moving.

His stomach dropped.

They were stronger than before.

Another wolf lunged at his back. Aric twisted just in time, slicing through its throat. The beast staggered, choking on its own blood, but it did not die instantly.

They don't die like normal creatures.

Realization struck cold.

The wolves weren't just stronger. They were something else now.

"The walls are falling!" a voice screamed.

Aric's head snapped toward the eastern barricade—just in time to see it collapse completely.

A wave of fur and fangs poured in, golden eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the burning torches.

The village was falling.

Fear clawed at his chest, but he pushed it down. They had to stop this breach.

"Lira! Hold this side!" he shouted before sprinting toward the eastern wall.

By the time he reached it, the situation was even worse than he expected.

The ground near the destroyed barricade was scorched black, veins of glowing red running through the dirt. The wood of the collapsed wall wasn't just shattered—it was burned, pulsing with an eerie glow.

Aric's pulse hammered. This wasn't natural.

His vision blurred. Something inside his head stirred, whispering words he could not understand.

A sharp pain bloomed behind his eyes. A deep pressure filled his chest.

Then—a pulse.

It started in his core, rippling outward in an unseen shockwave. The air rippled around him, like the world itself had trembled.

The wolves froze.

Then they screamed.

Their bodies jerked violently, legs spasming. Blood poured from their eyes, their mouths, their ears. Some collapsed instantly. Others staggered back, howling in agony before falling limp.

Silence.

Aric gasped, staggering as the power left him. His limbs felt weak, unsteady. His breath came in ragged pulls.

The villagers around him had stopped fighting. They were staring.

Lira ran toward him, eyes wide. "Aric! Are you—"

She didn't finish.

Because before either of them could say another word, a low hum rumbled through the night air.

Not from the wolves.

Not from the wind.

From the forest.

The surviving wolves had stopped attacking.

They were standing still, golden eyes locked toward the treeline.

Then—

The trees at the farthest edge of the clearing bent.

Not from wind.

From something stepping through them.

A shadow loomed at the edge of the battlefield.

Too tall to be a wolf.

Too thin to be a man.

The torches flickered as if gasping for air, the warmth of their flames retreating against the presence that now stood before them.

Lira tightened her grip on her dagger. "Aric… what is that?"

His fingers curled against the dirt.

His breath came in shallow pulls.

For the first time that night, he felt something worse than battle.

True fear.