Chapitre 1: Moonlit Shadows
The scent of fresh-cut lumber and damp earth filled my nostrils as I made my way through the darkened construction site. Night shifts were a blessing and a curse—quiet enough to keep my secret safe, but Christ, the boredom could kill a man. Or a werewolf, in my case.
I flexed my hands, willing away the tingling sensation that had been creeping up my arms all evening. The waxing moon hung fat and ominous in the sky, a constant reminder of the beast clawing at my insides. Three more days until the full moon. Three more days of keeping it together.
"Hey, Smith! You gonna stand there all night or what?"
I turned to see Mike, my supervisor, waving impatiently from the half-finished office building. Forcing a grin, I jogged over, privately grateful for the distraction.
"Sorry, boss. Just double-checking the perimeter."
Mike snorted. "Yeah, well, unless you're expecting the lumber to sprout legs and walk off, I think we're good. Now help me with these blueprints."
For the next hour, I lost myself in the monotony of measurements and calculations. It was mind-numbing work, but it kept the wolf at bay. Almost.
A distant howl pierced the night, sending a jolt through my system. My head snapped up, every muscle tensing.
"You hear that?" I asked, voice tight.
Mike frowned, cocking his head. "Hear what?"
Another howl, closer this time. How could he not hear it? The sound vibrated through my bones, calling to something primal within me.
"That," I insisted. "Sounds like a wolf or something."
Mike laughed, shaking his head. "Wolves? In these parts? You're losing it, Smith. Probably just some dog got loose from—"
His words cut off as a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. We both froze, eyes wide.
"What the hell was that?" Mike whispered.
Before I could respond, the night erupted into chaos. More screams, the sound of shattering glass, and underneath it all, a low, menacing growl that made my hair stand on end.
"Call 911," I barked, already sprinting towards the commotion.
"Damien, wait!" Mike shouted after me. "It's not safe!"
I ignored him, my feet pounding against the packed earth. The construction site bordered a residential area, and as I rounded the corner of our half-finished building, I saw the source of the disturbance.
A house at the edge of the development had its front door torn clean off the hinges. Inside, shadows thrashed and danced in the flickering light of a fallen lamp. Another scream, this one choked and gurgling, spurred me forward.
I hesitated at the threshold, every instinct screaming at me to turn back. But I couldn't. Whatever was in there, I was probably the only one who stood a chance against it.
The stench of blood and fear hit me like a physical blow as I entered the house. Overturned furniture and shattered picture frames littered the floor. I followed the sounds of struggle to what looked like a home office.
Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the scene that greeted me.
A massive, dark shape crouched over a crumpled form on the floor. In the dim light, I could make out matted fur, muscles rippling beneath as it tore into its prey. This was no ordinary wolf. It was too big, too... wrong.
My shock must have registered because suddenly, the creature's head snapped up. Yellow eyes locked onto mine, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Recognition flashed between us—predator recognizing predator.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, with a snarl that exposed bloodied fangs, it lunged.
I barely had time to throw myself to the side, crashing into a bookshelf. Pain exploded across my back as I hit the floor, books raining down around me. The beast sailed past, claws scrabbling against hardwood as it tried to turn.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, and with it came the change I'd been fighting all night. My vision sharpened, scents intensified. I could hear the frantic beating of my own heart, the ragged breathing of the creature, and beneath that... a faint, fluttering pulse from the figure on the floor.
Still alive. I had to end this fast.
The wolf-thing gathered itself for another attack, haunches tensing. But this time, I was ready. As it sprang, I met it halfway, driving my shoulder into its chest. We went down in a tangle of limbs and snapping jaws.
Up close, the wrongness of the creature was even more apparent. Its fur was patchy, falling out in clumps to reveal skin mottled with lesions. The stench of disease rolled off it in waves, nearly overwhelming me.
Claws raked across my arm, and I bit back a howl of pain. My own nails had lengthened into deadly points, and I used them now, ripping into the beast's flanks. It yelped, twisting away, but I pressed my advantage.
We traded blows in a frenzied dance, snarling and snapping. Blood—mine and its—slicked the floor. I was stronger, faster, but whatever this thing was, it fought with the desperation of a rabid animal.
A lucky swipe caught me across the face, and I stumbled back, momentarily blinded. The creature seized its chance, bolting for the open door. By the time my vision cleared, it had vanished into the night.
For a moment, I stood there, chest heaving, every nerve on fire. The urge to give chase, to hunt, to kill thrummed through me. But a weak groan from behind snapped me back to reality.
I turned to find the homeowner stirring feebly. Male, middle-aged, and losing blood fast from deep gashes across his torso. The sound of approaching sirens told me help was on the way, but would it be soon enough?
Kneeling beside him, I pressed my hands to the worst of the wounds, trying to stem the flow. "Hold on," I muttered. "Just hold on."
His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy with pain. When they settled on me, they widened in terror.
I followed his gaze down and felt my own surge of panic. My hands, still pressing against his wounds, were covered in coarse brown fur. Claws tipped each finger, and I knew without looking that my eyes had changed to a predator's yellow.
"What..." the man gasped, "What are you?"
Before I could answer, his eyes rolled back, and he went limp beneath my hands. The sirens were close now, too close. I had to get out of here, had to change back before anyone saw me like this.
But as I stood, something caught my eye. There, half-hidden beneath the splinters of a broken desk, was a photograph. I snatched it up, my blood running cold as I recognized the smiling face staring back at me.
It was Sophia. My ex-girlfriend. The one who had walked out on me a year ago, taking my heart with her.
What the hell was her picture doing here?
The wail of sirens grew deafening. Red and blue lights flashed through the windows. Time was up.
Clutching the photo, I bolted for the back door, praying I could make it to the woods before anyone spotted me. As I ran, one thought echoed through my mind:
What have you gotten yourself into, Sophia? And what the hell kind of monster had I just fought?
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone