The hunt begins
The forest was eerily silent, save for the crunch of leaves beneath Diana Bloodborne’s boots. Her breath was steady, her heart a cold drumbeat in her chest as she crouched in the shadows. The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting faint silver streaks across the forest floor. Ahead, four werewolves prowled, their muscled forms tense, unaware of the predator lurking just out of sight.
Diana adjusted her grip on her twin daggers, their silver blades gleaming faintly. These weren’t just any werewolves; they belonged to the Riverdale Pack, a name that carried a weight of hatred and pain for all hunters. Her lips curled into a grim smirk. Tonight, they would pay.
With a swift movement, she leaped from her hiding spot, her blade slicing through the air. The first wolf went down with a gurgled growl, its throat slit before it could react. The others spun around, snarling, their eyes glowing with rage.
“Come on,” Diana taunted, her voice low and lethal. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The fight was brutal but brief. The wolves lunged at her, their claws and teeth deadly weapons. But Diana was faster, deadlier. She moved like a shadow, her blades finding flesh with terrifying precision. One by one, the wolves fell until the forest was silent once more, save for her ragged breathing and the faint rustle of the wind through the trees.
Wiping the blood from her blade, Diana straightened and surveyed the carnage. “Four down,” she muttered. “Many more to go.”
---
The hunter’s domain was a stark contrast to the wild chaos of the forest. Hidden deep within the mountains, it was a fortress of stone and steel, a testament to the resilience of her kind. Diana pushed open the heavy oak doors, the familiar scent of old wood and burning torches greeting her as she stepped inside.
The council chamber was at the heart of the fortress. It was a cold, somber room, its walls lined with trophies of past victories—werewolf pelts, broken fangs, and ancient weapons. At the center sat the council: five stern-faced elders whose authority was absolute.
Diana strode into the room, her chin high and her eyes cold. “The mission is complete. Four wolves eliminated.”
The elder seated at the head of the table, a wiry man with piercing gray eyes, nodded. “Good. But we have more urgent matters to discuss.”
Diana’s brow furrowed as she stepped closer. “What is it?”
“We’ve located the Riverdale Pack.”
The name sent a chill down her spine, but she masked it with a clenched jaw. “The Riverdale Pack? Are you certain?”
Another elder, a woman with a voice as sharp as a blade, spoke. “Yes. They’ve settled near the western mountains, building a stronghold. This is the pack responsible for our darkest days, Diana. They decimated our numbers, hunted us like prey, and left us broken.”
Diana’s fists tightened at her sides. She’d grown up hearing the stories—how the Riverdale Pack had slaughtered hunters, reduced their birthrates, and nearly driven them to extinction. She had vowed to avenge her people, and now, fate had delivered the chance.
“What’s the plan?” she asked, her voice steady despite the fire burning inside her.
“You’re our best hunter,” the head elder said. “You’ve killed more wolves than any of us combined. You will infiltrate their territory and kill their alpha. Without him, the pack will fall apart.”
Diana nodded sharply. “Consider it done.”
The elder raised a hand. “You won’t go alone. We’re sending three others to support you. But keep this mission quiet. If the other hunters find out, there will be panic. We can’t afford to lose you, Diana.”
She understood the weight of their trust. As the Shadow Assassin, she was a symbol of hope for her people, a living legend among hunters, and a nightmare for werewolves. Failure wasn’t an option.
---
The following morning, Diana prepared for the journey. Dressed in her black hunting gear, her daggers strapped to her thighs, and a quiver of silver-tipped arrows on her back, she was the picture of lethal efficiency. Her companions—three skilled hunters—waited for her at the gates. They exchanged silent nods before setting off.
The journey to the Riverdale Pack’s territory was long and treacherous. The western mountains loomed ahead, their jagged peaks shrouded in mist. By the time they reached the outskirts of the pack’s territory, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the land in darkness.
From their vantage point, Diana could see the pack’s stronghold. It wasn’t just a den; it was a city. Wooden houses lined cobblestone streets, lanterns casting a warm glow over the bustling village. Werewolves, both in human and wolf form, moved about, their laughter and chatter filling the air.
“It’s more organized than I expected,” one of her companions whispered.
Diana’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll move at night. Stick to the plan.”
As darkness deepened, they approached the gates. Two werewolves stood guard, their backs turned to the approaching hunters. Diana moved swiftly, her blade slicing through the air. The guards crumpled without a sound, their lifeless bodies slumping to the ground.
But the silence didn’t last. A howl pierced the night, followed by shouts and the thunder of approaching footsteps.
“They know we’re here,” Diana hissed, her daggers at the ready.
Before she could react, the pack surrounded them. Wolves emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing with fury. At their center stood the alpha. Thanks to her mask they won't see her face.
He was tall, his broad shoulders wrapped in a dark cloak. His black hair gleamed in the moonlight, framing a face that was both rugged and unnervingly handsome. But it was his eyes that froze Diana in place—icy blue and piercing, like twin glaciers burning with rage.
“So, the infamous Shadow Assassin,” the alpha said, his voice a deep rumble. “You’ve made a grave mistake coming here.”
"Take off your mask." one of them growled
"No," she said coldly
For the first time in years, Diana felt a sliver of fear. But she pushed it down, gripping her blades tightly. “We’ll see about that.”