The curse of Silverwood

heir eyes gleaming with madness, their bodies twisted by the curse, were far beyond reason or mercy. Their snouts dripped with saliva, and their movements were erra

ligent. This wasn't a mindless animal. It knew exactly what it was doing. Kellan shifted back into his human form, panting as he wiped blood from his brow. His eyes, still sharp and commanding, flicked to Elara. "Stay back!" he ordered, his voice filled with urgency. "That's Fenrik-the Rogue King." Elara's breath caught in her throat. She had heard whispers of Fenrik, a legend among werewolves, a being said to be the first rogue, cursed to wander the earth for eternity, spreading his madness to others. He was the source of the rogue curse, the one responsible for countless deaths and the destruction of entire packs. But she had never believed the stories. She had never thought he was real. Now, standing before her, he was more real than anything she had ever seen. Fenrik bared his teeth in a twisted grin, his red eyes gleaming as he surveyed the wolves of Black Hollow. "Kellan," he said, his voice deep and guttural, like rocks grinding together. "Still playing the noble Alpha, I see. How long do you think you can hold out against me?" Kellan growled, his muscles tense. "As long as it takes." Fenrik's grin widened, and he let out a low, rumbling laugh. "You're wasting your time. You can't stop the inevitable. The rogue blood is stronger than your pathetic pack. You should have joined me when you had the chance." "I'd rather die than follow a monster like you," Kellan spat, his voice filled with venom. Fenrik's eyes narrowed, and in a flash, he lunged at Kellan, moving with a speed that defied his size. Kellan barely had time to react. He shifted back into his wolf form just as Fenrik's claws slashed through the air, missing him by inches. The two collided in a violent clash of fur and fury, their growls shaking the very ground beneath them. Elara watched, frozen in place, as Kellan and Fenrik battled. Kellan was fast, his silver fur gleaming in the moonlight as he darted in and out of Fenrik's attacks. But Fenrik was stronger-much stronger. His blows were heavy, each one sending shockwaves through the air, and his movements, though slower, were calculated and precise. It was clear that Kellan was fighting for his life. The rest of the Black Hollow wolves hesitated, unsure of whether to join the fight. They knew Fenrik was too powerful for any one of them to defeat, but attacking him as a group could risk losing even more lives. And the rogues-those who had been summoned by Fenrik's howl-stood by, waiting, their eyes gleaming with malevolent anticipation. Elara's heart raced. She couldn't just stand there. She couldn't watch Kellan fight alone. But what could she do against a creature like Fenrik? She was strong, yes, but not nearly as strong as him. Still, the wolf inside her growled with defiance, refusing to let fear paralyze her. She had to act. She felt the locket pulse against her chest, its warmth spreading through her body. The connection to her ancestors, to the ancient pact between humans and wolves, surged within her. There was power in her bloodline-power that she hadn't fully understood until now. The locket, the key to controlling the transformation, wasn't just a relic. It was her only chance. Without thinking, Elara shifted back into her human form, her hand instinctively wrapping around the silver locket. The warmth intensified, and she felt a surge of energy rush through her, more potent than anything she had ever felt before. It wasn't just the power of the wolf-it was something older, something tied to the magic of Black Hollow itself. "Elara, what are you doing?!" one of the wolves barked, but she ignored the warning. With a deep breath, she stepped forward, her voice steady as she called out to Fenrik. "Fenrik!" T