Silver Eyes

"Dad... Dad..." I mumbled in my sleep, my voice fragile, trembling with the echoes of a distant past.

Faint whispers drifted through the fog of my mind—fragmented, haunting.

"Hunt him.""Hunt him!"

The voices grew louder, overlapping, blending into a chorus of fear and rage.

"Ella... Hey, kid... wake up. Ella..."

My eyes snapped open, drenched in cold sweat.

"Dad!" I screamed, sitting up abruptly, my heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum.

"Oh God, thankfully she's safe," a gentle voice sighed in relief, the sound grounding me back to reality.

That was the next day, I was rescued by a group of soldiers. But when they found me, I stubbornly refused to leave the bushes where my father had told me to hide.

"My dad told me to wait," I insisted, my small arms crossed defiantly, tears dried on my dirt-smudged cheeks.

One of the rescuers, a man with kind eyes, knelt beside me. "I'm your dad's friend. Let's go, Ella. Your mom is looking for you."

Something about his voice made me feel a little safer. Hesitantly, I reached out, and he lifted me into his arms. As he carried me, he tried to distract me from the weight of loss I couldn't yet fully understand.

"What do you love the most?" he asked softly, brushing the leaves from my tangled hair.

I thought for a moment, my face scrunching in concentration before answering, "I love MeatAndy a lot."

He chuckled warmly. "Oh, MeatAndy? I'll buy you as much as you want."

His words made me smile faintly, the sweetness of childhood peeking through the cracks of my grief. But exhaustion soon crept in, pulling me into sleep.

When I woke up, I found myself being carried toward our home. The rescuer knocked on the door, and it swung open almost immediately. My mom stood there, her face a canvas of fear, hope, and desperate anticipation.

When her eyes met mine, relief flooded her features, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"We found Ella," the rescuer said softly, handing me over.

My mom clutched me tightly, her sobs muffled against my tangled hair. I felt the warmth of her love, but beneath it, an emptiness lingered where my father should have been.

As soon as she could catch her breath, she looked at the rescuer with tear-filled eyes. "Have you found out what was the reason and who killed him?"

The rescuer hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly. "We can't share much, but... according to our knowledge, your husband was going to lead the peace talks event between humans and werewolves from our side."

My mother's grip on me tightened.

"The man who killed your husband was the leader of rogue werewolves from the Rareez community. His name was Galli..."

Suddenly, I was jolted awake by Jason shouting my name. Disoriented, I looked around, realizing I was no longer in my house. I was back in that small, crumbling cottage. Jason and Mathew were there with me.

Before I could piece together what had happened, a figure burst through the wooden wall—Emma. A member of Team 2. My childhood ex-best friend. Her attack on Jason was swift, but he was quicker, dodging her strike effortlessly.

"Did you forget I just told you a moment ago that I'm one of the most skillful hunters?" Jason taunted, his smirk defiant.

Emma growled, her eyes flashing with rage. Mathew stepped forward, his grin dark. "Ohhh, so you're challenging us?" He let out a deafening howl, "Aooooooooooooooooooo!" The call summoned four more werewolves lurking outside.

The sound of destruction followed. They began tearing down the fragile wooden walls. I lay half-fainted, my vision blurry as I watched the chaos unfold. Within moments, the entire cottage was reduced to rubble.

Six specially trained werewolves. One Jason. No hunter gear. No sword. No bow and arrows. Just raw determination.

Jason dodged Emma's second attack with ease, but the harsh reality hit him—he was defenseless.

"There's nothing I can do right now," Jason muttered, his eyes darting around. "I'm suitless, gadgetless. Standing alone against six werewolves. I can run or die. But what will happen to Ella if I die?"

Mathew stepped forward, his grin widening. "You guys stay back. I'll take him."

Jason braced himself as Mathew lunged. He tried to dodge, but Mathew's speed was unmatched. A powerful kick sent Jason crashing to the ground. For a brief moment, everything went silent—Jason unconscious, me struggling to call out to him.

But he wasn't done.

Jason regained consciousness, his determination burning brighter. He staggered to his feet. "I don't have any gadgets, no sword, no bow, nothing... but I won't give up. I have to save Ella. And kill them all."

Jason took his position, ready to face Mathew. But suddenly, an excruciating pain shot through his head. He collapsed, screaming in agony—a raw, guttural sound that echoed like a wounded animal. His body convulsed, hands clutching his skull as if trying to tear the pain out. His cries were brutal, filled with a torment I'd never witnessed before.

I asked your dad what happened to him at that moment because I'd seen him get headaches before, but this was different. This was unbearable. He screamed and sobbed like a newborn, muttering incoherent words, lost in his own nightmare.

Later, he told me what he saw. Horrifying memories from his past flooded his mind—memories so dark they shattered him in an instant. Just like when I was hit with the memory of my father's death.

Well, Was it the wolfsbane? No, wolfsbane doesn't affect humans.

Was it Mathew's kick? Maybe it rattled something in his brain.

Or was it the fear of death itself? I don't know.

But from here, your dad will tell you what he saw. Then I'll continue the story.

JASON'S POV

Hey champ,

It's your dad here writing right now. I won't eat much of your time, so I'll be direct to the point.

As soon as I got up to fight back, an out-of-this-world pain hit my brain, and I fell down, just like your mother shared. Then everything faded, and suddenly...

YEAR 646

I was ten years old again, wrestling with my best friend Mason and a few other kids. We all dreamed of becoming hunters one day, so we fought to prove who was the best. The dusty training grounds echoed with laughter and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. Some hunters sat nearby, drinking, watching us with amused eyes, betting on which of us would win.

Mason was fast, agile, and relentless. I threw punches, blocked, and countered, but he always had the upper hand. The crowd roared with excitement, cheering for their favorite. Sweat dripped from my brow as I lunged at Mason, aiming a powerful punch. He dodged effortlessly, sweeping my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me. Mason had won.

Disappointment washed over me. I lay there, staring at the sky, feeling the sting of failure.

One of the hunters, Abbas, who had bet on me, stood up with a dramatic sigh of disappointment. "Ah, Jason, you owe me a drink when you grow up," he mocked, laughter bubbling from the group.

Abbas walked over, towering above me. I expected more teasing, but instead, he extended his hand. "Get up, kid. That was a damn good fight. Losing doesn't make you weak; staying down does."

I hesitated, then grabbed his hand. He pulled me to my feet with a firm grip, patting my shoulder. "You've got spirit, Jason. That's worth more than any bet."

Suddenly, something happened. Something very terrifying which left marks on my soul still. Something I can never forget. Something which motivated me more to become a hunter so I could take revenge. And that something was the bell. The bell rang.

GUIDANCE: There's a big bell hung in the middle of every human village. It is only rung if someone attacks the village—like werewolves or an army from another village attempting to conquer or steal from the village.

Suddenly, silence fell. Everyone who had been watching us wrestle and all the villagers going about their work stopped. Their faces turned pale with terror. I could see the panic and fear in every soldier's and villager's eyes. Everyone knew something bad was coming, but no one knew exactly what.

Then we saw him—an injured soldier staggering from the south side of our village, his body covered in blood, his face twisted with fear. He was shouting, "Hideee! Hideee! The death of humanity is coming to eat us! They're coming! Werewolves are coming!"

As he reached the area where we were, his voice grew faint. He collapsed to the ground, his final breath escaping as he died right there in front of us.

That was the moment when silence turned into chaos. Screams erupted. Fear gripped everyone. People started running, pushing, crying—a panic-stricken wave surged through the village.

But the only thought in my mind was my family. South side. My family lived there.

I thought of nothing else. My heart pounded with fear and desperation. "Familyyy! My familyyy! I have to save them!" I screamed in my head, my legs moving before my mind could catch up.

Good memories of my mom, dad, and little sister Liza flashed through my mind—her laughter, my mother's warm smile, my father's protective gaze. They fueled my determination.

Mason's voice echoed behind me. "Jason! No, wait!" But I was out of my mind. I couldn't stop. I had to get to them.

Mason didn't hesitate. He followed me, because he was my true friend.

I was running as fast as I could, out of my mind, not even feeling the pain when my ankle twisted. But I kept running and running until I reached my home... Home?

I saw four werewolves. Two of them were almost done eating my dad, their jaws dripping with blood, flesh torn apart, bones cracked open. One was halfway through tearing apart what was left of my mom — My home was destroyed, wood splintered, walls collapsed. But it was the fourth one that shattered my soul. It held my sister's severed head in its clawed hand. Her eyes—those innocent, beautiful eyes—were wide open, frozen with pure terror. Her mouth gaped in a silent scream.

The werewolf grinned, its jagged teeth glinting in the blood-soaked light. It brought her head to its maw, biting down with a sickening crunch. I could hear the bones shattering, her fragile skull breaking under its monstrous jaws.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed with every ounce of strength, my voice ripping through the chaos.

But I was too late. The werewolf twisted what was left of her head, chewing with sick satisfaction.

"No... NO!!!" I collapsed to my knees, disbelief and horror consuming me. My vision blurred with tears, my heart breaking into a million pieces.

Suddenly, Mason shook me violently, his voice trembling with terror. "Jason, Jason, stand up! They're watching us! Jason!!!"

My scream had drawn their attention. Their silver eyes locked onto us, gleaming with hunger. I couldn't move. I was frozen in shock, still on my knees, paralyzed by grief.

They started to advance. Their snarls echoed, their fangs dripping with blood. They were ready. Ready to devour us—because to them, nothing tasted better than the flesh... the flesh of children.

I still remember their eyes, Their Silver eyes.

GUIDANCE: This is the second stage among werewolves known as the Hunter stage, where a werewolf's power, scent ability, hunger, and running ability increase by 25%. This stage is commonly found among normal werewolf soldiers who are trained to hunt and defend against enemies with silver eye color.

To be continued....