"Werewolves!"
Thunder clapped, shaking the windows. The children flinched as the word echoed through the ancient hall.
"Vicious beasts that lurk in the night, hunting for prey," the Grandmaster growled.
"Thick, matted fur covers them from head to toe—often stained with the blood of their victims. Their eyes glow with rage, with feral, unnatural light. Some say red, others say gold… but all agree: they are the eyes of monsters.
Long, curved claws—sharp enough to rip through steel and bone alike… and mouths that stretch wider than they should, revealing rows of jagged fangs designed not to chew… but to tear."
He paused.
Then straightened, standing tall despite the weight of his age.
He began pacing slowly between the rows of terrified children seated on either side of the room. Each step echoed—deliberate, heavy with purpose. His single eye scanned them, cold and calculating.
Then he smiled.
Not out of kindness.
But satisfaction.
The lesson was sinking in.
As he neared the end of the room, he stopped. Slowly, he turned to the left.
"You there!" he barked.
All heads snapped in the same direction.
Eyes locked onto a single child.
A young girl.
Catherine.
"Do you fear them, little one?" he asked.
The girl didn't shake like the others. There was no fear in her eyes.
"No," she muttered.
The Grandmaster leaned in slightly.
"What was that, little one?"
Catherine's gaze hardened.
"I said no."
A pause.
Then—
"I said NO!"
The room trembled with the force of her voice. Even the other children flinched.
The Grandmaster took a step back.
And for the first time—
He saw it.
The rage in her eyes.
"I'll kill them," she said, her voice low, shaking with something far deeper than fear.
"I'll make them suffer."
The Grandmaster's eye widened slightly.
Those eyes… filled with hate… more monstrous than any beast I've ever seen.
"Identify yourself, little one," he commanded, his tone shifting—curiosity bleeding into authority.
The girl stood without hesitation, her small frame steady.
"I am Catherine Kubbert," she said clearly. "Age twelve."
The room fell silent.
"Two nights ago, I lost my parents to a werewolf attack. I was saved by the Silver Knights and brought here because I had nowhere else to go."
Her fists clenched at her sides.
Her voice cracked—
But she didn't cry.
"The beast that took my parents' lives… got away with it's own."
Whispers spread across the room
"She's just a child…"
"Look how small she is…"
"She's got fire…"
Catherine stepped forward, her eyes blazing.
"But today," she declared, "I vow to dedicate my life to one cause—and one cause alone."
She didn't blink.
Didn't hesitate.
"I will hunt them."
A step closer.
"I will make them bleed."
Her voice rose, filled with something raw. Something absolute.
"I WILL SLAY EVERY SINGLE WEREWOLF THERE IS!"
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Unbroken.
Even the Grandmaster said nothing.
Studied her.
Measured her.
Then—
A slow, deliberate exhale.
"…Good."
The word slipped from him, low and controlled.
The children shifted uneasily. Some glanced at one another, confused. Others shrank further into their seats.
But Catherine didn't move.
Didn't blink.
The Grandmaster turned away from her and began pacing again, slower this time.
"Fear," he said, his voice carrying once more through the hall, "is what keeps most of you alive."
He stopped.
"But hatred…"
A glance back at her.
"…is what turns a survivor into a weapon."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
The Grandmaster raised a hand.
Silence returned instantly.
"The Silver Knights did not bring you here to hide," he continued. "You were not chosen because you are weak… or because you are helpless."
His single eye gleamed.
"You were chosen because you have lost something."
A pause.
"Something worth avenging."
Catherine's fists tightened.
The Grandmaster walked toward the center of the hall, his cloak dragging behind him like a shadow.
"From this day forward," he said, his voice hardening, "you are no longer children of the world you came from."
He turned.
"You are initiates."
The word echoed.
"You will train. You will bleed. You will learn what it means to face the monsters that roam our world."
His gaze swept across them all.
"And many of you… will die."
A few gasps broke through the silence.
Catherine didn't react.
"If you wish to leave," he continued calmly, "you may do so now."
No one moved.
Not a single step.
The Grandmaster nodded once.
"Then understand this."
His voice dropped.
Colder.
Sharper.
"Werewolves are not mindless beasts."
The children stiffened.
"They think. They plan. They hide among humans. They wear faces you would trust… voices you would believe."
Catherine's eyes narrowed slightly.
"They are faster than you. Stronger than you. And far more dangerous than the stories you've been told."
He took a step forward.
"So if you intend to hunt them…"
A pause.
His eye locked onto Catherine.
"…you must become something worse."
The torches lining the hall flickered as thunder rolled again overhead.
"For monsters…"
His voice lowered to a near whisper.
"…are not defeated by mercy."
Another beat.
"But by something far more terrifying."
The hall seemed to shrink under the weight of his words.
Catherine stood still.
Unshaken.
Unmoved.
Her eyes burned with the same fire.
"I won't show mercy," she said quietly.
The Grandmaster's lips curved—just slightly.
"I can see that," he murmured.
He turned away.
"Dismissed."
The tension broke.
Children began to rise slowly, voices hushed, movements uncertain. Some wiped tears. Others whispered in fear.
Catherine didn't move.
Not immediately.
She stood there a moment longer… staring ahead.
Then, slowly—
She looked down at her hands.
Small.
Shaking.
But not from fear.
From something else.
Something growing.
Something dangerous.
Her fingers curled into fists.
Tight.
Unyielding.
"They got away…" she whispered to herself.
Her jaw clenched.
"…but they won't for long."
Outside, lightning split the sky.
And somewhere—
Far beyond the walls of the hall—
Something howled.