The streets pulsed with energy as werewolves prepared for the Blood Moon Festival.
It had been 997 years since the last Alpha revealed their existence to the world. At first, humans feared them. But over time, fear turned to fascination — and then, coexistence.
Now, what was once a secretive ritual had become a national holiday.
The city glowed with lanterns and violet banners. Market stalls lined every corner, each one showing off the ancient traditions of the werewolf clans — fire breathers, drummers, blade dancers, and even shape-shifting performers. The air was alive with music, laughter, and magic.
Ryan moved through the crowd, eyes wide with wonder. His chest thumped with excitement. This year, he would finally witness the legendary closing ritual — The Howl.
The Howl was the most sacred moment of the festival. It ended the Blood Moon, and every year, something extraordinary happened during it. No one ever explained what. They just said, "You'll know when you hear it."
He had watched the Howl on screens before, seen the videos, heard the stories. But being here — standing on the sacred grounds where it would happen — was something else entirely.
He turned to the cliffs at the edge of town, where the ceremony would begin. The werewolves were gathering — tall, broad, many already in mid-shift. Purple mist curled around their feet, rising like a storm cloud into the moonlit sky.
Ryan's breath caught as he saw them — real werewolves, some fully transformed, others flickering between forms. Their eyes glowed in the dark, primal and powerful. His heart raced. He didn't know why, but he felt drawn to them.
Then a massive wolf stepped forward. His fur was silvered with age. Scars laced across his snout and neck. His eyes weren't just glowing — they burned with something ancient.
The Alpha.
With a low growl, the old wolf raised his head.
The others followed.
And they howled.
It echoed through the mountains like thunder. Deep, haunting, layered — like voices from another world calling into this one.
Ryan stumbled backward.
The sound... wasn't just in the air. It was inside him.
His bones vibrated. His hands trembled. The hairs on his neck rose. He tried to breathe, but his lungs felt too full. His mouth opened — and a howl escaped.
A deep, wild, ancient sound that wasn't his… and yet it was.
He staggered. His knees hit the ground. Pain surged down his spine like fire. His heart slammed in his chest. He clutched his stomach, gasping.
Around him, people turned — some shocked, others scared. But the wolves... the wolves all stared at him.
"Stop…" Ryan whispered, his voice shaking. "What's happening to me?"
His fingers burned. He looked down and watched in horror as his nails lengthened into claws. Fur sprouted along his arms. His back arched violently as bones cracked and realigned.
He was transforming.
He tried to fight it — to stay human — but the pull was too strong. Something ancient inside him had awakened. Something no longer willing to stay silent.
He cried out — or tried to. But what came out was not a scream.
It was a howl.
Louder than any wolf on the cliff. More raw. More primal. The sound split the air, shaking the ground beneath him. Windows vibrated. Lanterns flickered.
Then… silence.
The entire mountain stilled.
One by one, the werewolves bowed.
Not out of respect.
But instinct.
The Blood Moon glowed brighter. Its light bent unnaturally — shining only on him.
And then, a fiery crest appeared on his forearm. A mark shaped like a wolf's head surrounded by a full moon. It pulsed with red-gold light.
Ryan stared at it, panting, trembling.
He didn't feel like himself.
He didn't feel like anyone.
What… am I?