Lucien stared.
The white werewolf stood before him, arms crossed, its yellow eyes watching him with an intensity that was distinctly... human.
"You..." Lucien's voice was hoarse, disbelieving. "You can speak."
The creature tilted its head slightly, a gesture that might have been amusement. "I could ask you the same question," it replied, its voice rough but clear. "Most who end up here lose their tongues long before they lose their lives."
Lucien tried to sit up straighter, wincing as pain lanced through his ribs. "What are you?"
"A survivor." The werewolf crouched down, bringing itself closer to Lucien's eye level. "Like you, it seems."
For a moment, neither spoke. The forest around them was quiet... not silent, but waiting. The twisted trees swayed gently despite the absence of wind, and somewhere in the distance, something howled.
Lucien swallowed hard. "Why did you save me?"
The werewolf's lips pulled back slightly, revealing sharp teeth. Not a snarl but a smile. "Because the Shadow Knights wanted you alive. And anything they want..." It leaned forward. "...I make sure they don't get."
Lucien exhaled slowly, his mind racing despite the exhaustion dragging at him. "Who are you?"
The creature straightened, its yellow eyes reflecting the dim, sickly light filtering through the canopy above.
"My name," it said, "is Osman Dervis. Once a soldier of the Ottoman Empire. Once a man." It gestured to itself with a clawed hand. "Now... this."
Lucien's eyes widened. "Ottoman Empire? That was..."
"Over a century ago," Osman finished. "Yes."
Silence fell again, heavier this time.
Lucien stared at the werewolf... at Osman... trying to process what he'd just heard. A soldier from 1905. Transformed into a beast but still alive after more than a hundred years.
"How?" Lucien whispered. "How is that possible?"
Osman's gaze drifted toward the ruined city in the distance, barely visible through the trees. His expression... as much as a werewolf's face could convey... darkened.
"Do you know what this place is?" he asked quietly.
Lucien shook his head.
"This," Osman said, gesturing around them, "is what remains of Jerusalem. The real Jerusalem." He paused. "Or rather... what it became."
Lucien's breath caught. "What do you mean?"
Osman sat down on a fallen log, his massive frame settling with surprising grace. He stared into the darkness of the forest as he spoke, his voice distant, almost haunted.
"I was stationed in Jerusalem in 1905. A young soldier, barely twenty years old. The city was... beautiful. Vibrant. Alive." His claws flexed against the wood beneath him. "Then, one night, everything changed."
He turned his gaze back to Lucien. "A light appeared in the sky. Blinding. Impossibly bright. It descended on the city like... like the wrath of God himself."
Lucien felt a chill run down his spine.
"When the light faded," Osman continued, "the sky was gone. Replaced by... this." He gestured upward, toward the bruised, swirling clouds above. "We were no longer in our world. We were... here. Wherever here is."
"The Dome," Lucien whispered.
Osman's ears twitched. "You know of it?"
"I came from outside," Lucien said. "The Dome... it appeared over Jerusalem in 1905. No one could enter. No one knew what was inside." He looked at Osman. "You've been trapped here since then?"
"Yes." Osman's voice was flat. "And so has everyone else."
Lucien's stomach turned. "The people... the ones I saw in the city..."
"They were citizens of Jerusalem," Osman said. "Men, women, children. When the light took us, it didn't just change the world. It changed us." His claws scraped against the log. "One by one, people began to transform. Some became ghouls. Others, goblins. Orcs. Worse things."
"But you..." Lucien studied him. "You kept your mind."
"Some of us did," Osman replied. "Not many. But a few." He paused. "At first, we tried to help each other. To survive together. But over time..." His voice grew colder. "Some chose to serve the shadows. Others fled into the wilderness, choosing to live... and die... as the beasts they'd become."
"And the Shadow Knights?" Lucien asked.
Osman's eyes narrowed. "They arrived soon after the transformation began. Twelve of them. Clad in black armor, wielding weapons forged from shadow itself." He leaned forward. "They took control of the city. Of the monsters. Of everything."
"Twelve," Lucien repeated, his mind racing. "There are twelve of them?"
"Yes." Osman's gaze bore into him. "And they rule this place with absolute authority. Nothing happens here without their knowledge. No one enters or leaves without their permission."
Lucien clenched his fists. "Then how do we escape?"
Osman smiled again, that sharp, predatory grin. "Now you're asking the right question."
He stood, pacing slowly in front of Lucien. "The Shadow Knights control the rifts. Small tears in reality, scattered throughout this world. They use them to travel... to bring things in, to send things out." He stopped, turning to face Lucien. "If we can reach one of those rifts... we can leave."
Lucien's heart quickened. "Where are they?"
"Hidden. Guarded." Osman's tail flicked. "But I know where some of them are. I've spent decades watching, learning their patterns."
"Then why haven't you left?" Lucien asked.
Osman's expression darkened. "Because I can't activate them alone. They require... something. Mana, perhaps. A human touch." His yellow eyes locked onto Lucien's. "But you... you're different. You came from outside. You have power they fear."
Lucien shook his head. "I'm just a blacksmith. A low-rank Hunter. I don't..."
"You broke a crystallized rift," Osman interrupted. "You fought a Shadow Knight and survived. You carry something inside you that makes them want you alive. I heard thant shadow talk to you..." He crouched down again, close enough that Lucien could see his reflection in those predatory eyes. "You are not just a blacksmith."
Lucien swallowed hard.
Osman leaned back, crossing his arms. "So, Lucien de Mireval... yes, I heard the knight call you that too... I'll make you an offer."
"What kind of offer?"
"You want to escape," Osman said simply. "So do I. We help each other. You get me out of this cursed place, and I'll make sure you survive long enough to do it."
Lucien studied the werewolf's face, searching for any sign of deception. But all he saw was determination... and desperation.
"Why should I trust you?" Lucien asked quietly.
Osman's smile faded. "Because if I wanted you dead, I would have left you with the Shadow Knight. And if I wanted to use you, I would have dragged you to one of the rifts already and forced you to open it." He held out one clawed hand. "I don't need a slave, Lucien. I need an ally."
Lucien stared at the outstretched hand... clawed, covered in white fur, stained with blood.
He thought of Mira. Of Cédric. Of Hassan and Léon and everyone he'd left behind.
He thought of the Shadow Knights, the monsters, the ruined city that had once been his home.
And he thought of the Grail. Of the visions. Of the truth he still didn't understand.
I can't die here. Not yet.
Slowly, Lucien reached out and clasped Osman's hand.
"Allies," he said.
Osman's grin returned. "Good." He pulled Lucien to his feet with surprising gentleness. "Then let's get you somewhere safe. You're in no condition to fight."
Lucien winced, feeling every bruise, every cut. "Where?"
"Deeper into the forest," Osman said. "There's a place the Shadow Knights don't patrol. An old ruin. It's not much, but it's hidden." He glanced back toward the city, his ears twitching. "They'll be hunting for us soon. We need to move."
Lucien nodded, forcing his legs to support his weight. "Wait."
Osman paused, looking back.
"You said some people chose to serve the Shadow Knights," Lucien said. "Why? What could they possibly offer?"
Osman's expression grew grim. "Power. Control. A promise that they won't become mindless beasts like the others." He turned away. "But it's a lie. Everyone who serves them eventually loses themselves. They just don't realize it until it's too late."
He started walking, his white form blending into the shadows of the forest.
Lucien followed, each step a reminder of his injuries, his exhaustion.
But he was alive.
And for the first time since he'd been dragged into this nightmare, he had hope.
As they disappeared deeper into the woods, the distant howl echoed again... but closer this time.
Osman's ears flattened. "We need to move faster."
"What was that?" Lucien asked.
Osman didn't look back. "Hunters. The Shadow Knights have sent their best after us."
Lucien's grip tightened on his broken sword hilt... the only weapon he had left.
"Then we run," he said.
"No." Osman's voice was cold. "We survive."
And together, the werewolf and the Templar vanished into the darkness of the cursed forest.