The Realm of Kings shimmered with gold and silver brilliance, endless skies arcing above towers of crystal and marble that hummed with ancient energy. A soft wind carried the echo of hymns through the air, unearthly, soothing, and sorrowful. Adolfo stood in front of the King of Light, who towered with an ageless serenity, robes flowing like woven starlight, his eyes twin suns of judgment and grace. In the King's palm, a ray of golden light coiled and danced, pulsing faintly as if tied to Adolfo's very soul.
"You cannot be purified," the King said, "until the storm within you calms. Hatred breeds darkness. Even hatred turned inward."
Adolfo looked down. His reflection shimmered in the polished marble beneath his feet, fractured, half-human, half-wolf. A monster and a man.
"I can't," he said finally, voice hoarse. "I can't ever forgive myself."
The golden ray dimmed in the King's hand.
"I ate people," Adolfo said, his words like broken glass. "You do not know what it is like to see it all every night behind my eyelids and to hear it in every silence. How do you expect me to not hate myself?"
The light in the King's hand flickered… and then dulled to a faint glimmer.
Adolfo looked up at the King, jaw clenched, tears hot in his eyes.
"I do not deserve forgiveness, not even from myself."
Silence. The realm seemed to still, but then, Adolfo took a step forward.
"…But I will fight. I will fight for the people I have left. For Blanchette. She deserves that from me. And I will fight for whoever else I can protect."
He raised his chin, shoulders squaring.
"I will not erase what I have done, but if I can do something now. I will."
The golden ray in the King's hand surged to life again, stronger than before, surrounding Adolfo in a soft, sunlit glow that warmed his skin without burning. The King smiled faintly.
"A broken blade may still shield the innocent. A cursed man may still choose the light."
He closed his hand over the beam, and it vanished with a pulse.
"It is done," the King said. "The consciousness of the beast within you has been erased. The hunger no longer guides it, you do. It will no longer fight you. From now on, you may command when the werewolf rises… and when it sleeps."
Adolfo blinked.
"You mean…"
"Yes," the King said. "Your body is yours now. Not the other way around."
Adolfo did not speak. He let the silence wash over him. For the first time since his curse.., he felt a quiet inside. Stillness, where there had only been hunger.
"…Thank you," he murmured.
The King of Light only turned, looking towards the Cullen.
"Your battle has not yet ended. And the world will need the wolf… and the man."
Meanwhile, in the mortal realm, the golden dome of light shimmered just outside the windows, casting long shadows inside Albus's house. Outside, however, the forest was unraveling. Distant screams rose and fell, carried by the wind like a mourning song. Lillian sat at the windowsill, hat in her lap, jaw tight with frustration. She kept glancing at the tree line, where figures moved too fast and too silently to be anything but vampires. Her six-shooter lay across her thighs, cleaned and reloaded more times than needed in the last hour.
"I can't just sit here," she muttered, fists clenched. "There are more people out there. I know it. And I am sittin' here, useless as a scarecrow in a thunderstorm."
"You are not useless, Lillian. You led a dozen survivors through the trees with vampires on your heels. If it weren't for you, they would be dead," Albus stated.
"That ain't enough," she growled. "I should be out there now. I should be fighting. Not just hiding behind your magical lantern shield."
Blanchette stepped in from the adjoining room, arms folded, sweat and grime still clinging to her from her own missions.
"You will be dead if you go back out now," she said flatly. "You are barely standing. I saw your ribs when you changed, you took a hit."
"It is not enough to stop me," Lillian replied.
Blanchette softened slightly, walking over and sitting beside Lillian.
"I get it," Blanchette said. "The guilt. The need to do something. I feel it too, but being reckless will not help anyone."
Lillian dropped her head into her hands, muttering, "I am the protector of these woods, Blanchette. It is all I have ever been. Now I am stuck in a house while monsters chew through everything I swore to protect."
There was a silence, heavy and uncomfortable.
Then Blanchette added, quieter, "I hurt one of them. Earlier."
Lillian looked up. Albus did too.
"With what?" he asked, stepping forward.
"My blade did not work, but flame did. It caught the vampire's hand and burned it. No regeneration."
Albus's brow furrowed.
"You are certain?"
"I saw the flesh melt and not heal back. I think fire might be the key," Blanchette said.
"That changes things," Albus said, turning toward his cupboards. "If garlic can be neutralized by Callidora's alchemy, then fire… fire might be the one element she can't alter… We may be able to forge it."
Lillian rubbed her face. "So what? We start lightin' torches and throwin' 'em like pitchforks?"
"No," Albus said. "We start crafting weapons imbued with flame. Enchanted oil. Blades that burn. Guns that ignite."
Lillian exhaled, a hint of purpose returning to her gaze.
"…Then what are we waitin' for?"
- -
The golden plains of the Realm of Kings shimmered like starlight. Cullen stood barefoot in the grass. The grass was soft underfoot, lit by an eternal gold glow that came from no sun, yet banished every shadow. White lilies swayed in a wind that did not blow. It was peaceful here, unnaturally so, and it made Cullen's skin crawl. He stood rigid, his cybernetic arm twitching with mechanical anxiety. The implants in his body were humming louder than usual, as if they too sensed something… divine. Across from him stood the King of Light. In his outstretched palm, the golden ray of purification began to form, slowly threading itself into existence like a sunbeam solidifying in midair. However, the light faltered, then dimmed.
"You cannot receive it yet," said the King gently.
Cullen scoffed, fists clenched.
"Figures."
"You hold too tightly to the past."
"You would hold tightly too if your past was mine."
The King did not respond. Instead, he slowly lifted a second hand, and the space around them glowed. A shape began to form in the glade, wispy, incomplete. A shadow of memory, etched in gold. Cullen froze as it became clear. A teenage boy, no older than seventeen, tied to a chair. A man, his father, kneeling before him, arms bound. A tall woman with cruel beauty smiling down at them, Callidora.
"Stop," Cullen whispered.
"She made you watch," said the King softly. "Didn't she?"
"I said STOP!"
But the King's voice was unwavering.
"Didn't she, Cullen?"
Cullen shook his head violently, but the memory did not disappear. He turned his back to it, but still it burned in his mind. He could hear it now, his father's ragged breath, the wet sound of ribs cracking, the horrible, pulpy squelch.
"She made me watch," he whispered.
The King repeated it, "She made you watch."
"She taped my eyes open!" Cullen shouted, eyes wet. "She said if I looked away she would feed me next. I heard my dad scream until he could not anymore."
The light in the King's hand trembled.
"She pulled his heart out in front of me. She smiled. Smiled. Like it was the funniest thing. Then she bit into it like it was… like it was nothing," Cullen said as his voice broke. "I still smell it. Blood and fire and… and the burning of his skin on the floor. She did all that just because my father did not agree to supply her species with metal parts."
He fell to his knees, trembling.
The King knelt with him and asked, "Why do you blame yourself?"
"Because I was not able to fight her."
"You tried."
"Not hard enough. How can I be a killing machine and still fail to protect my father?"
The vision of Cullen's trauma repeated, again, and again. Over and over. The heart. The laugh. His father falling.
"I should have died with him."
"No," the King said firmly. "You should have lived. You did live, and that is what frightens you most, that you survived something that should have broken you entirely."
The golden ray flickered again.
"What did your father believe in?" the King asked.
"He believed in kindness," Cullen whispered. "He gave the disabled people metal parts, even if they had no money. He gave food to people who spat on him. He said that the world was broken but we did not have to be."
"And what would he say now, if he saw you?"
"That I should move on."
"And why haven't you?"
"Because I cannot forget it. It is stuck in my mind, a nightmare on a loop."
"You should outgrow it."
"How?!"
The King of Light held his gaze and said, "You take what she tried to kill in you, and you let it live."
Cullen said nothing.
"You are not a failure," the King said. "You are a survivor, and survivors can become protectors. That is how your story changes. Stop fearing what has happened and prevent it from happening to anybody else."
Then Cullen took a breath.
"Yes, my father would want that. If I can't be at peace, then I will make damn sure no one else goes through what I did. I will fight every day. For my father. To be kind just like him."
The golden ray was bright and strong.
"You have chosen purpose," the King said. "And with that, you outgrow the chains of pain."
The light poured into Cullen like warm thunder. He gasped, but it did not burn. Instead, it lifted. Washed. He could feel it, something deep inside, twisted and black, unraveling and dissolving. The blood lust gone. His cybernetic parts stopped humming.
"You are free now. The hunger has been erased. You are your own again," the King stated.
Cullen and Adolfo are now side by side. The King opens a golden portal.
"Go on. They need you there," the King announced.
After crossing the portal, Adolfo and Cullen with a sudden flash of golden light and the faint hum of otherworldly energy end up at the edge of the glade beside Albus's home. Cullen exhaled as his boots touched grass again, a strange serenity softening the usual tension in his brow. His movements were slower, less coiled, controlled. Adolfo, beside him, looked even more transformed. Though his bulk still radiated the raw presence of the beast within, his eyes were clear. A focused, tempered calm steadied his breath. Lillian approached them, followed by Blanchette, and then Albus. All three froze as they saw the two men reappear. Lillian's hand instinctively brushed her hat brim, stunned.
"Well… look who found the way back from golden land," Lillian said.
Blanchette let out a breath she had not realized she was holding.
"You are back."
Albus stepped forward, scanning both of them with an almost scientific curiosity.
"Did it work?"
Cullen gave a nod.
"Yeah, no more thirst for blood."
Adolfo folded his arms.
"And the wolf no longer chooses when to turn. I do."
Lillian raised a brow.
"You can control it now?"
"Yes," Adolfo replied simply
Albus gave a small smile.
"Good. You are just in time."
Adolfo and Cullen looked around confusedly at the other people around the area and at the light barrier, which is surrounded by vampires. Inside Albus's house, magical sigils drawn in chalk were spread across the wooden table. The fire in the hearth crackled behind them.
"What has been happening?" Cullen asked, looking around.
Albus pressed his fingers together. "Wayland Woods is falling. The citizens transformed into vampires, fully turned. Callidora's new abilities include accelerating the process."
"That is in addition to making them immune to garlic," Blanchette added grimly.
Lillian leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.
"We tried to get survivors to safety. Split up and brought in who we could. But we can't go back out there again."
"Despite all that, this new breed," Albus said. "still has a weakness."
Cullen nodded.
"Then what is the plan?"
Albus stood and crossed to a locked cabinet. With a flick of his wrist, his bracelet lit up and the locks released with a click. He opened it, revealing a collection of small boxes and long silver tubes.
"I have been working while you were away," Albus said. "This—" he continued as he opened one of the boxes, revealing bullets glinting with orange sheen "—is a blend of silver alloy and runes soaked in enchanted oil. They ignite when they hit their target."
Cullen's cybernetic hand reached for one of the bullets.
"Burning ammo?"
"Precisely."
"God, I missed science," Cullen muttered with a grin, already reloading one of his pistols.
"That is not science. It is magic," Albus corrected.
"Whatever."
Albus turned to Blanchette next. He handed her a sword she recognized, her own, but now it shimmered faintly, as if whispering fire along its edges.
"I reworked the core," Albus said. "Runes along the blade's spine connect to this pressure seal in the hilt. Channel your will, just a flick of focus, and it ignites."
Blanchette took it reverently, watching as, with just a thought, the blade burst into vibrant orange flame.
Lillian let out a low whistle.
"That is new."
Blanchette nodded, eyes locked on the blade.
"Feels… right… As if the fire reflects my quest for revenge while reminding me of.. who I am."
"Then come on. It is time to burn them all," Cullen said coldly, spinning a pistol.
Adolfo spoke for the first time since entering the house, voice low.
"We will protect the ones who are left, try to save as much as we can. That is what matters most now."
A silence settled between them, tired but focused. The kind of stillness before a storm. Blanchette tightened her grip on her sword. Lillian adjusted her hat. Cullen slid another mag of burning rounds into his sidearm.
"We need to find Callidora too," Blanchette
Albus closed the cabinet and turned to the room.
"Then let's make sure that this time…" He looked to each of them. "we end Callidora."