Cyrus stood naked in a snowy cave. The wall glittered with frost, reflecting a soft, ethereal glow. The cold air bit at his flesh, each cold breath piercing sharply into his lungs.
He had no idea how he had gotten there, where he was coming from, or where he was going. This cold hell was alien to him. And why was he naked?
He started walking following the cave, stepping cautiously through the crunching snow beneath his bare feet, each step biting with cold.
The cave narrowed until it funneled him into a chamber radiant with unnatural light.
It was impossibly vast. He couldn't see where it ended. Just an unending snowy place with a ceiling disappearing into the blackness.
Great spikey ice jutted from the floor and ceiling. Some from the floor to the ceiling as pillars. There was no sound only the crackle of shifting Ice. A cold chill swept across the room.
There was someone in the room.
A man.
He sat on a weathered wooden chair, his back turned to Cyrus. He wore a long dark coat dusted with snow, unmoving despite the chill that whirled around the room.
Cyrus hesitated, shivering, unsure if he should speak. He approached the stranger in the long coat. Slowly and cautiously. The man in the long coat didn't flinch. Cyrus placed his hand on the man's shoulder. It was warm. Too warm.
The man stirred and the chair creaked as he turned.
Cyrus froze.
A wolf's head had replaced the man's human head. Its fur was thick and white as the snow around him. Its eyes were red, burning red. The snout curled in a near snarl, not anger but a warning.
Cyrus's heart pounded fast. He felt ice on his spine. He stumbled back in fear. What was this thing? He wanted to get out of the cave as fast as he could.
"You shouldn't be here," The wolf-man's voice rumbled, like thunder, deep and terrifying.
.........
Cyrus jolted upright, his breath raging and skin covered with sweat. The cave was gone. The snow, the wolf-man with the rumbling voice, were also gone. Only the fear and his pounding heart were left of the terrifying dream. The memories of the dream lingered in his mind like permanent ink.
He blinked, his eyes taking in his surroundings. They were not familiar with the place. The room was dim with a stone wall and rusty iron that caged him. He was in a cell.
How did he get there?
Suddenly memories came rushing back like a sea tide. The farmhouse, the dagger. Gerald! That ugly werewolf had stabbed him. He had died. He had really died.
So why was he here? Why was he breathing? How was it even possible?
A familiar, smooth, and warm voice intruded on his thoughts. It was impossible to forget. It belonged to the beautiful girl from the farmhouse.
"Good morning love."
Cyrus turned, startled. Tabeth sat on the other side of the bars, her hands folded on her lap. She was achingly beautiful.
"Where am I?" he asked.
She smiled gently. "You should say hello back first- you really lack manners,"
"I'm supposed to be dead, that bloody fucker stabbed me!" He said putting a hand on his chest. It didn't make sense. Gilbert had stabbed him. He had felt himself slip into total darkness. The next moment he was inside an endless cave with a terrifying man-wolf. Then he woke up in a cell with a beautiful girl sitting beyond the bars.
Tabeth stood up and approached the bars. She placed her hand gently on one of them.
"Yes, you died," She said coolly.
Cyrus' eyes widened. So he really did die.
"The dagger Gilbert stabbed you with wasn't ordinary. It's a special dagger made from a PRIMERA's fangs," She explained.
"What's a PRIMERA?"
Tabeth sighed, shook her head then stared into space as if contemplating whether to tell him.
She turned back, her expression had hardened."PRIMERAs were the first werewolves to ever come into existence. There were six of them. Maybe one of them was kind enough to donate a pair of fangs, who knows?"
She paused then glared into Cyrus' eyes, her golden eyes catching the dim light like polished amber.
Her tone shifted, serious now."The dagger has many uses. One of them is to awaken a dormant werewolf by driving it into its heart. For example, you-" Her lips curved into a grin.
Cyrus dropped his eyes to the floor, his mind tying itself into knots. Thinking. Calculating. If they had stabbed him, it meant that they knew he had werewolf power. But how? Then again they had expected him to show up that night at the farmhouse.
"How did you know about my werewolf side," Cyrus asked, his voice low and curious.
"I was there you know- back in the forest. That night you killed Morris," She said.
"Who's Morris?"
"The werewolf you killed in the wooden house," She said, licking her lips
Impossible.
Or was it? He had felt something watching him as he carried Abby out of the forest. Was it possible? Had she really been there?
"How's that possible. I could've seen you or sensed you- T-there's no-no way you were there," Cyrus stammered.
"Werewolves have different abilities, Cyrus. Others have brute strength, like Gerald, for example. You've seen what he can do. I can do that too of course. But my specialty is silence. I'm the mistress of silence. I can move in and out as I please, without being heard. A few werewolves can do that. No scent, no sound, nothing. I can move like a ghost," She said. She smirked as she saw the blank expression on Cyrus'
"I watched you kill Morris with that superhuman strength of yours."
Cyrus frowned then met her gaze. "Why didn't you kill me back then?"
Every time he thought he had found an answer, another question popped up.
She shrugged."You could say I was surprised by what I saw. I honestly don't know why I let you go," She said. " Plus you did me a huge favor by killing good Old Morris- Poor bastard, he thought he could get away with treason."
"Treason -What are you talking about?" Cyrus asked almost rising from the floor."What do you mean I did you a huge favor?"
"Well- Morris tried to set up a little coup against our Alpha. It failed so he ran. We heard he went crazy in the forest. He took things a little bit too far when he started killing humans in the nearby area. That wasn't good, it arouses all sorts of questions don't you think? Brings unnecessary attention. We got wind of his location but unfortunately, you and your Hunter friends also found out about him. I went out to kill him that night. But you got to him first."
Satisfied, Cyrus had one more question. It was an unpleasant one and he wished that the answer contradicted his thoughts.
"How did you know that I was coming to the farmhouse ?" he asked, gritting his teeth.
"I think you know the answer to your question," Tabeth replied.
"Chung! That twisted devil spawn bastard!" He raged. He was almost surprised but knew he wasn't supposed to be. Mr Chung was only loyal to his nose. He sided with whichever side smelled nice. He was the type of guy who could sell his own son for the right prize.
"You are the beautiful girl with cat eyes aren't you?" Cyrus said, his voice filled with disappointment.
"He was to specifically give the farmhouse mission only to you and no one else. Your old friend delivered. Here you are, a prisoner now."
She walked back to her chair.
"We were going to kill you you know. Nice and slow. After you had awakened. Not because you were a hunter, but because you were killing your own kind."
"I wasn't aware that I was a werewolf -"
"It doesn't matter now," Tabeth pointed out, raising her hands.
Cyrus blinked.
"Then why didn't you kill me?"
She hesitated, staring at the ceiling for a full minute. Silence hung in the air. Cyrus felt uneasy.
"Because you're different Cyrus. Your werewolf power is unique, different from ours. You almost killed Gilbert when you awakened."
Gilbert! The fearsome ugly werewolf? Serves him right. Almost killed him? He wished he had.
She stood up and moved forward, her beauty intact with every step.
"You're the Red Alpha, Cyrus," she said smoothly."You have a special power that's why I didn't kill you."
"What's a Red Alpha?" he asked.
"It's a werewolf believed to have power that can rival that of the first werewolves," She said.
Then after a short while." Whether you get to live or die is not my decision. Mother has the final say. You will meet her soon enough."
She got up, turned, and went. He could hear her footsteps fading down the corridor. All his brain had done ever since he regained consciousness was think, ask questions, and look for answers. It was doing the same now. What was a Red Alpha? Why was he special? And who the fuck was Mother you had to decide if lived or died?