The Wolf stretched in his new body, his limbs felt short and stumpy, his skin tight and restricting. However, despite his pathetic new form, his instincts and senses remained. The magic in the city tickled at the nape of his neck - the Sorceress was behind this witchcraft, he was sure of it.
Peering out the small, teak-framed window, his eyes drawn to the flickering of candle light across the street. A human shadow danced around, drawing
The Wolf in. He felt his urges resurface, his primal instincts to kill, oh how he enjoyed it... it was time to take this new body for a test ride.
In the small house across the street, another had only just awoken. He was quick to sort himself out, putting his plan into action and marking his house with peculiar symbols. The markings would be clear to his allies, and he was sure his mistress would marvel at his idea. The man chuckled to himself, this would be child's play.
As he etched the final piece into the window frame, he felt a presence. Whirring around, he soon met the golden eyes of attacker. His pathetic whimper was drowned out by the rumbling snarl of the man before him. Before he could stream for help his throat was ripped out.
~~~~~
In a small cottage on the edge of the city, a house was marked for death. It belonged to a familiar young man, one whom many in the city knew - and equally, one who had been possessed by a being from a new realm. He had come to this new world so hopeful, yet his dreams had already been dashed.
Two crows pecked at the window, where the young man laid dead. His arms and legs were twisted at acute angles, his eyes and mouth wide open. His death had not been peaceful.
~~~~~
Elsewhere in the city, a butterfly-sized fae flew through the small alleyways of town. Its master had sent it to a specific house in the hopes of finding an ally. However, the fae stumbled across an unusual situation.
A man laid contorted on the floor, an odd purple glow emanating from his body. The being was alive, but barely conscious. The fairy snuck through a small crevice in the ceiling, hovering down to the pained man. As it reached out a hand, the purple magic jumped out - vaporising the fairy instantly.
Moments later the mysterious magic dissipated, and the man collapsed from exhaustion. His mind was jumbled, his heart conflicted. He had had a sudden change of heart.
Christos is dead.
Achromatic is dead.
In the town square, just outside the castle where the townsfolk were soon to gather, appeared a crooked wooden sign. It read:
I have a lot of bark and thrive on water. I am considered loved by both the Sun and the Sea. What am I?
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