LEGEND OF SERIVA

Three dark figures silently slunk through the winding streets of Seriva, a town perched on the edge of human civilization deep in East Africa. This was no ordinary town-it was a realm where the supernatural and the mundane intertwined. The figures moved so smoothly that it was as if they were not there, their speed rendering them a mere blur to any observer. They had been trained for this, designed with the grace, agility, and speed of a cat. Their senses were five times that of a normal person, with catlike vision piercing through the night.

No one could suspect that these graceful beings were capable of the highest degree of violence and aggression ever recorded in human history. Apart from their ferocity, they were reputed to be immortal, creatures of legend that haunted the edges of human awareness.

Not far behind, a man followed their trail, occasionally sniffing the air like a tracking dog. In his right hand, he carried a pickaxe with a wooden handle and a silver head so sharp it glittered when stray rays of light touched it. Beside him, a huge wolfhound ran in circles, its senses keenly attuned to the hunt. This was a hunter, and he was not alone. Behind him, another band of hunters followed, all with a common prey in their sights. The figures they pursued were heading into the depths of Seriva Forest.

"Ryan, I don't think we can keep running forever. It's time we stood our ground and fought like the Serivans we are," a young girl said, her voice steady despite their peril.

"We are outnumbered, Talia. I'm not going to let you face experienced hunters. I won't gamble with your lives. And don't forget-they have wolfsbane. We can't risk it," replied Ryan. They had emerged into a spacious clearing within the forest, the canopy above casting long shadows in the moonlight.

"Well, I'll be damned if I'm running again. This is not our culture. Serivans never flee from the enemy, especially not the royal ones," Talia retorted, her eyes flashing with determination.

"Goddamned women, always thinking everything is easy," Ryan growled under his breath.

"I'm with Talia on this," Nicky chimed in. "We can't keep running all night. Eventually, we have to stand and fight."

"Alright, you win," Ryan conceded, raising his hands in surrender. "We'll make camp here and prepare for battle. Talia, you'll be the bait. Nicky, set up the perimeter. We need to corner them so none escape. I'll take position in the tree."

"I don't like always being the bait," Talia grumbled. "Next time, it'll be your turn."

"There won't be a next time," Ryan replied grimly.

Nicky disappeared into the shadows, melding with the trees as she set up their defenses. Ryan shot up the nearest tree effortlessly, vanishing into the branches. The tree seemed to absorb him, becoming eerily still and dark.

Slowly, Talia glided to the center of the clearing and sat down on the short, emerald-green grass. She looked up at the tree where Ryan was hidden and smiled, revealing milk-white teeth and sharp canines. In the eerie shadows and scant moonlight, she resembled a vampire, her eyes glowing brightly.

Ryan's heart drummed with a sense of foreboding. Something felt off, but he knew he couldn't persuade them otherwise. Talia and Nicky were headstrong and determined, and he had never been able to convince them to change their minds. They were his only remaining family, and he would never force them to do anything against their will.

As he melded further into the core of the tree, becoming one with its ancient soul, Ryan prepared himself for the coming confrontation. The hunters were closing in, and the supernatural realm of Seriva was about to witness a clash between predator and prey like never before.

A silver arrow whistled through the silent night air. With a flick of her wrist, Talia caught it between two fingers before it found its mark. She inspected the arrow as the bushes parted, revealing a heavily muscled man holding a battle-ax. Soon, he was joined by two more men and a young woman wearing dirty denim jeans, each holding a loaded crossbow. They advanced toward the middle of the clearing.

Talia hadn't even spared them a glance until now. She opened her mouth and spoke, her voice cold and steady.

"This is a beautiful arrow. It's surprising that something so small has caused the deaths of so many."

"Well, well, well. Isn't it a beautiful night, my lady?" the big man asked, a sneer on his lips.

"I wouldn't call it a beautiful night," she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "It's too silent, the moon seems distant, and it's damp. Plus, it smells awful here. Someone's been a bad boy and hasn't showered lately."

"Watch your tongue, young lady. What I meant was that it's a beautiful night for me to do my work. Do you know what that work is? No? It's to kill you and your little bunch of friends. Now, where are they?"

Talia burst out laughing, making the man take a step back, his eyes narrowing.

"I could kill you all by myself right now," she said, her voice calm but deadly.

"You're a tough one. Let's do this the hard way." He pulled out a loaded dart gun. "Do you know what this is? Wolfsbane, the most lethal poison to werewolves. Inhaling its fumes causes severe muscle damage, and if untreated, it stops the heart in five minutes. One dart is five times more lethal than the fumes. If I shoot you now, you'll be dead in less than thirty seconds."

For a moment, panic flickered in her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a sparkling smile. Wolfsbane was feared by all werewolves, even the royals. Lately, humans and werewolves had been in constant competition for food, territory, and survival. The werewolves were fighting tooth and nail for dominance but were on the brink of extinction.

Talia slowly lifted her right hand and snapped her fingers. "You should have killed me when you had the chance." She dissolved into a mist and floated away just as the dart shot through her gaseous form and hit the tree where Ryan was hiding. The man and his companions stood open-mouthed as the mist condensed midair, and Talia reappeared a few paces away.

"This just got more interesting. We have a royal with us," the hunter announced to his friends.

"Did you think I was just a common werewolf? Well, now that you know, shall we?" Talia sneered.

Immediately, Nicky emerged from the shadows behind them as Ryan gracefully dropped from the tree, landing without a sound. The hunters were surrounded. The hunter had become the prey. The two young men dropped their bows and scrambled for the bushes, but Nicky was there in an instant, snapping their necks with a sickening crunch of bone and cartilage.

Ryan rushed toward the big man, shifting into a thirty-foot black wolf with three-inch canines and paws as big as saucepans. The man fired a dart, but it missed. That was the last thing he ever did before Ryan's saw-like canines crushed him. Seeing her master killed, the young woman dropped her crossbow and fell to her knees, trembling and begging for her life. Talia showed no mercy, jamming her claws into the woman's chest and crushing her heart in her fist.

"I think I've been hit," Nicky said as she slumped to the ground, a dart sticking from her neck. Ryan looked around and rushed to his sister's side.

"I... I don't... think I can make it, Ryan. Promise me you'll protect our people. Keep them safe with everything you have. I... love you so much..." She breathed her last.

Ryan hadn't shed tears since the death of their mother, but now, as he held Nicky's lifeless body, the familiar pain returned. Fat tears streamed down his face. He shifted into his wolf form and howled a long, mournful howl. His sorrow echoed through the forest, and soon, other wolves joined in. The clearing filled with their pack. Talia, in her gray wolf form, walked over to Ryan's side to comfort him as they mourned their sister's death together.