Young Writers Society

Sarah sat, looking lost, while Izzy still lay on the ground. She seemed lost in her own world, as if reliving a past life. I remained seated, my hand still gripping my colt. The tension in the air was palpable. I couldn't help but wonder if I could react quickly enough if things turned sour. Izzy could pounce on me at any moment. Her head turned slowly as she scanned the surroundings. Then her eyes locked on. Her Sapphire eyes seeing through me.

"What, you don't have anything to say?" she taunted. "You, who are high and mighty, have no words for us, the lowly werewolves." I regret to admit it, but she succeeded in provoking the reaction she was aiming for.

"Very well then, Dog," I replied sharply, determined not to show any weakness. "You're fortunate. I have no intention of taking your life. My orders are to spare you. I need you to deliver a message to your Alpha on behalf of my bosses. Now, can you be a good little doggy?" At that, Izzy pulled her legs back before displaying a dexterity that some would envy. She swiftly threw her legs over her head and rolled to her feet, releasing a cackle.

"Haha, you call us dogs? You're the one on a leash. If I were to kill you..." Izzy closed the gap between us as I rose to my feet. In response, I raised my colt, the barrel pressed against her abdomen, center mass. All I said was, "IF!" I could feel her unsettling presence getting to me, and she knew it.

Expressing my frustration, I threw down the letter with the wax seal. "Your pack's location is known to us. Deliver the letter or face the consequences: my fellow hunters will take you and Sarah out, and we'll find another." Izzy's demeanor shifted, and she returned her glare towards me. Unable to resist the urge to taunt her, I continued, "I see that silenced you. You didn't think mere humans could have the upper hand, did you? We've been hunting your kind and other dark creatures for a long time. Believe me, you're not the only immortals out there."

Part 1

I kept shooting a fierce glare at Drengr. He dared to threaten my pack. And now he expected me and Sarah to be his messenger? "You make a bold demand, hunter. But very well, I'll deliver your cursed letter." Drengr stepped back then I reached down to grab the letter. It has an ornate wax seal. I didn't recognise the symbols but that wasn't surprising. I clutched the letter, examining the seal. It doesn't make any sense. Why would an order of hunters seek to communicate with Long Fang and his pack of werewolves?

I looked to Drengr again to ask that very question. Before I could even pose the question, he cut me off. “Listen here, mutt, I don't care about your questions. Just get that letter to your alpha and be done with it. Don't make me regret sparing your life. I looked at Drengr and thought to myself maybe I pushed a little too hard. Then remembered he cornered us so fuck him. I took the letter and Sarah and I walked out the front door.

As promised there were more hunters waiting outside, weapons drawn. I sneered at Drengr and his cohorts, "You may have won this round, hunter, but we will not be so easily cowed. Your threats mean nothing to us, we'll deliver this blasted letter, but know this - we will not be intimidated. Mark my words, the reckoning is coming." And with that, Sarah and I made our way to Long Fang, ready to deliver the message and face whatever consequences may come.

Part 1.5

I was uncertain on how to handle the situation between Izzy and the hunter. I was grateful to have escaped the encounter unscathed. But for Drengr, he was one of the most intimidating individuals I've ever encountered, including Long Fang himself. I'd rather fight Fang again than come face to face with that man. He was as tall and big as Fang, equally his skin brown close to mine but darker. His accent was hispanic but i can't place it. He was built like a brick shit house. Eye that seen it all. I have seen those eyes but that man was smaller but just as scary.

We hurried out of town, wary of the hunters potentially breaking their promise. It took us the whole night to make sure we weren't being trailed. Once we were sure we were safe, we stopped to rest and consider our next move. The letter from the hunters weighed heavily on my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we were walking into a trap. But what choice did we have? We needed to deliver the letter to Long Fang and hope that he would know what to do.

Izzy and I didn't talk much as we fast walked through the woods. We ignored the easy pry we saw and heard. The only thing on either of my minds was what would the Hunters want with a pack of wolves. We eventually reached the pack's hideout, exhausted but relieved. The moment we stepped inside, all eyes were on us. I could sense the fear and tension in the air. Fang approached us, his eyes fixed on us. "Why did William say he saw you enter the nearby town?" he asked, his voice deep and commanding. Izzy said “I'll explain later now we have a huge problem” Izzy handed him the letter, and he looked at the wax seal with a growl. Then tore it open. As he read the contents, his expression grew darker by the second. It was clear that this was not good news for the pack.

Part 1.6

I read the letter the hunters gave my girls. It had to be Drengr of all of the damned hunters. They sent him. I felt my bicep remembering the wound he gave me all those years ago. I read the letter again hoping I was miss understanding or miss reading. They want us to help hunt are own kind… in a way. I couldn't believe it. Why would the hunters ask us for help, especially after all the battles we've had with them? And why would they want us to turn against our own kind? It made no sense. I had to discuss this with the pack, find out what they thought and come up with a plan.

I couldn't just blindly follow the hunters without knowing their true intentions. I called Izzy to the training area and showed her the letter. She was just as shocked as I was, we both couldn't believe what we were reading. We sat in silence for a moment, trying to process the information. It was a difficult decision, but we had to bring this to the attention of the Pack. It was our duty to protect our own, even if it meant going up against those who hunted us.

I gathered the Pack and showed them the letter, explaining the request from the Hunters.

The Pack was divided, some were willing to work with the Hunters while others were against it. It was going to be a tough decision, but we knew we had to make it for the good of our kind.

Drengr and two other hunters arrived outside the cave as promised in the morning. Drengr spoke in a mocking tone, "I would say it's nice to see you again, Fang. We both know that's not true. How's your bicep? I kept my emotions in check as Drengr and his two minions arrived at the cave entrance. I knew it was pointless to pretend I was happy to see him again, so I got straight to the point. "Why should we hunt our own kind for you?" I asked, my hand hovering near the healed wound on my bicep, a reminder of his past attack on me. “I will get straight to it. Fang there are not your kind, more like a disease.They are a threat to humanity, not a curse like werewolves. The reason we mostly leave you and your pack alone is because you don't create Blighted creatures. But now, someone is creating an army of them, and we can’t keep up. We could use our help to stop them.”

Part 2

As I listened to Fang, I caught the mention of "blighted ones." Although I'd heard the term before, I still didn't fully understand it. From the discomfort on the faces of my pack mates, it was clear they felt the same way. After a brief conversation with Drengr, the humans left and Fang was clearly agitated.

It was clear Fang wasn't in any mood to talk, so I sought out Izzy. I located Izzy in the upper caverns of our shared quarters. Her mood was highly irritable. "The audacity of those damn hunters, demanding that werewolves hunt other wolves, they must be lacking in intelligence," she ranted with increased vehemence. I stepped into the area and Izzy gleaned at me for a moment then her expression slackend."Oh hey Sarah, sorry about all the chaos. You've suddenly found yourself in the midst of a centuries-old blood war. We never had the chance to educate you about the Hunters, the primary group that has been causing us trouble. They call themselves Garra de la Plaga." I was stunned as I heard about the "blood war," it was a lot to take in. Then I asked Izzy, "What is a Blighted One?" Her face went blank, replaced by a look of sadness and unease. "Sarah, that's a difficult question to answer, but I'll try my best to explain."

Izzy took a seat and began to recount the origin story of the first Lycans. "Back when America was settled, there were already natives here," she said, and I was immediately intrigued. As she continued, my fascination only grew. "The settlers were initially 'nice' to the natives, but when winter came, it was a bloodbath," she explained. After the settlers no longer needed the help of the natives, they turned on them and practically slaughtered them. The natives possessed their own unique brand of magic, and some of them were skinwalkers. But some of the older, stronger Native males hated the settlers with a pure unadulterated hate that attracted a crossroads demon to them. The demon offered the Native males power to exact revenge on the settlers, taking their skinwalking ability and twisting it. Perverting it. The crossroads demon created the first werewolves.

I asked Izzy about the connection between the first Lycans and the blighted wolves, she shut me down, promising to explain later. Instead, she began to tell me about Roanoke. 'The lost colony that vanished?' I asked, and she looked impressed. 'Yes, the lost colony. After the Crossroads demon gave them the curse of Lycanthropy, they spent some time learning to control their new powers. They discovered that they could pass on the curse to others without knowing the cost: with each successive generation, the curse takes away a little bit of humanity and replaces it with animal instincts. Eventually, a werewolf becomes a mindless, bloodthirsty beast known as a blighted wolf.' I listened intently, fascinated and terrified by the idea of a curse that stripped away one's humanity. I wondered how many werewolves had succumbed to the blight and how many were still fighting to hold onto their humanity. Izzy paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before continuing. 'The blighted wolves are dangerous and unpredictable, driven solely by their primal instincts. They cannot be reasoned with or controlled.”

I then had to ask about the connection between Roanoke and the blighted werewolves and the first werewolves. After a moment of contemplation, I realized and asked, "Did the first werewolves create the blighted that destroyed the first colony?" Izzy looked surprised that I had made the connection. "Yes," she said, "and it was a mistake." The blighted werewolves killed anything that wasn't another animal and sometimes even mistook their own tribesmen for prey. To make matters worse, the fallen settlers also turned into blighted beasts, adding to the mayhem and destruction.

As I listened to Izzy's words, I was shocked by the gruesome fate of the settlers and their transformation into blighted beasts. It reminded me of the true horror of the curse of Lycanthropy and the disastrous consequences of its misuse. While listening, I wondered if there was a way to break the curse, to free those who had succumbed to its dark power. However, Izzy's tale made me realize that the solution might be more complex than I had initially thought. The blighted werewolves had become an uncontrollable and deadly force of nature, threatening to consume everything in their path. The only way to end their rampage and prevent the curse from spreading further was to eliminate them.

I then asked what the first wolves did to fix their mistake. Izzy said, "They slaughtered them all." The first wolf made a few more wolves in the first second, and with caution, a third-generation wolf can control the curse. After that, it's unpredictable, and Izzy explained the different generations. The first generation is turned by pure blood, and the curse in them is almost pure. A second generation is turned by someone who was turned by pure blood, and they are still stable and can control themselves. Then, the third generation is still safe, but the fourth generation is where you start to see the curse changing them, getting into blighted territory.

As I listened to Izzy's explanation, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. The idea of the curse slowly overtaking one's humanity was horrifying, and the fact that it was unpredictable beyond the third generation made it even more unsettling. Izzy's next words sent a chill down my spine. 'Blighted werewolves can't revert back to their human form,' she said, her voice heavy with solemnity. 'As time goes on, they become more and more animalistic, eventually losing their minds completely.'

Izzy continued the story, revealing that after the first wolves realized their mistake and the chaos they had unleashed, they turned a few more and then slaughtered all the blighted wolves they had created. They disposed of the evidence, and a pact was made among them: the creation of blighted werewolves would be forbidden and strictly taboo. Among werewolf kind, it was considered the greatest crime to create a blighted wolf. I listened in awe, the weight of their responsibility and the magnitude of their actions almost too much to comprehend. It was clear that the curse of Lycanthropy was a powerful and dangerous force, and those who wielded it had to be careful and responsible. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the pact was broken, and blighted wolves were once again created. Would the consequences be just as catastrophic, or even worse?

I then asked Izzy what generation we both were, and she laughed and said that we were first-generation werewolves. Her answer brought me some measure of relief, knowing that we were still far from succumbing to the curse and becoming blighted wolves. But at the same time, it also made me feel a sense of responsibility. As first-generation werewolves, we were the ones who had the best chance of mastering the curse and controlling our beast forms.

Part 3

Long Fang addressed the pack, his deep baritone voice resonating through the cavern. "The hunters have come to us asking for our help. Of all their vast extensive resources they come to us one of their sworn enemies," he began. "It seems that one of our own has strayed from the path and is attempting to create a blighted army." A murmur went through the pack at the mention of the word "blighted." Long Fang continued, his eyes scanning the room. "We all know the danger that such an army could pose not only to our kind, but to humans as well. The hunters have proposed a temporary alliance to take down this rogue werewolf and put an end to his plans." There was a tense silence in the room as the pack considered the proposal. Long Fang spoke again, his voice firm. "I know that some of you have reservations about working with the hunters, but we cannot allow this threat to go unchecked. Our kind must take responsibility for our own, and we must show that we will not tolerate those who would bring such devastation upon our world."

Then, to my surprise, a pack mate approached Fang and shouted, "You've gone soft! You're willing to bow to a hunter!" I watched in stunned silence as Fang calmly turned to face the challenger, his gaze cold and unwavering.Then Fang struck him with a vicious blow, the sound of the impact reverberating through the cavern. The challenger went down in a heap, defeated by Fang's sheer strength and ferocity.

Fang stepped forward, his massive form looming over the fallen challenger, his eyes burning A dark crimson. He snarled, "Never forget that I have led this pack for over 200 years and plan to lead it for a few hundred more. Fall in line, or be expelled." The pack fell silent, the weight of Fang's authority settling over them. Then the challenger spoke again, his voice laced with disdain. "You expect us to turn on our own kind, Fang? You want us to submit to the hunters and roll over like obedient little dogs? You're asking too much."

The challenger rose, getting back in Fang's face and snarling in kind, "What do you think the hunters are going to do when we're done killing our own? You think they're going to spare us? They'll see us as nothing but beasts, and they'll hunt us down like animals. And all because you want to play lapdog to the Hunters."

Fang was assessing the situation, realizing that he couldn't continue to be aggressive towards this upstart. He had to be tactful. "Your concerns are very valid," he said. "But you're mistaken in considering the blighted as our own kind. They are nothing but beasts that need to be put down, along with anyone who is willing to create one. We will handle this situation with the hunters as we see fit," he continued, his voice low and firm. "And we will not let any personal feelings or biases get in the way. This is not a matter of loyalty to the hunters, but a matter of survival for all of us. We cannot let the blight spread any further."

The pack seemed to take in his words, and a sense of unity and purpose settled over the group. Fang knew that they would need to work together if they were going to succeed in this task. And if anyone in the pack didn't understand that, well, Fang was more than willing to remind them.