Chapter 10: New Senses
Rowan woke to a world too loud, too sharp, the inn's creaks and the distant drip of rain assaulting his ears like a storm. His body felt heavy yet restless, the cot beneath him creaking as he shifted, the wound on his side now a faint ache beneath a fresh bandage. The bitter taste of Elara's herb water lingered, a faint anchor against the heat pulsing through his veins. He sat up, his head spinning, the room tilting as his vision cut through the dimness, every crack in the wall, every shadow, stark and clear. The scar on his shoulder burned, a steady throb that spread like wildfire, and he rubbed it, wincing as the sensation deepened.
Elara sat by the cot, the mysterious book still in her lap, its pages closed but her fingers tracing the worn cover. She looked up as he moved, her face tight with concern, the lantern's light casting soft shadows across her features. "You're awake," she said, her voice a gentle ripple amid the cacophony in his head. "How do you feel?"
"Different," he muttered, his voice rough, almost a growl. He swung his legs over the side, testing his weight, and felt a surge of strength that startled him. His hearing picked up the rustle of leaves outside, the faint scratch of a mouse in the walls, and his skin prickled as if the air itself was alive. "Everything's… louder. Clearer."
She nodded, setting the book aside, her hands steady but her eyes wary. "It's the curse taking hold. Your senses are waking… part of the change. The pack's blood is in you, and the attacks are pulling it out."
He stared at her, his breath uneven. "That's not possible. I'm not one of them." But the words felt weak, the heat in his body, the sharpness of his senses, telling a different story. He stood, pacing the small room, his boots thudding against the
floorboards, each sound amplified. His nails scraped the wall, leaving faint marks, and he froze, staring at them. "What's happening to me?"
Elara rose, stepping closer, her presence a calm counterpoint to the chaos inside him. "You're becoming like them, the pack. The amber eyes, the strength, the instincts. It's the Silent Moon's doing, and it's speeding up. I've seen it before, but never this fast."
He shook his head, refusing to accept it, but the urge to move, to run, clawed at him. He stumbled to the cracked mirror on the wall, splashing water from the basin onto his face. The cold shock steadied him, and he looked up, his reflection caught him off guard. His brown eyes flickered, a flash of amber glowing briefly before fading, and his breath caught. He leaned closer, hands gripping the basin, and it happened again. . amber, wild, staring back at him. His heart pounded, a drumbeat in his chest, and he stumbled back, knocking over a chair.
"Elara!" he called, his voice cracking, and she was there, her hands on his arms, grounding him. "My eyes, did you see that?"
She nodded, her face pale but resolute. "It's the beast waking. The transformation's starting. We need to control it, or it'll take you completely."
He sank onto the cot, his head in his hands, the room spinning. The howl from the night before echoed in his memory, and now he felt it. A pull toward the forest, a hunger he couldn't name. His nails dug into his palms, drawing blood, and he stared at the red, his vision sharpening to see every drop. "How do I stop it?" he whispered, desperation creeping in.
Elara knelt beside him, her voice low and urgent. "You can't stop it, not fully. But you can fight it, keep your mind sharp. The herbs help, and I can teach you to resist the call. But you have to trust me."
He looked at her, seeing the weight of her knowledge, the secret she guarded. "Why should I? You know more than you're saying. What are you hiding?"
Her eyes flickered, a shadow passing through them, but she held his gaze. "I'm trying to save you, Rowan. My gran left me that book… tales of the pack, ways to slow the curse. But there's a price, and I'm not sure you're ready for it." He wanted to press, to demand answers, but the heat in his body surged, and a growl escaped him, low and primal. He clamped a hand over his mouth, horrified, and Elara's hand rested on his arm, her touch cool and steady. "Breathe," she said. "Focus on my voice. It's just the instinct, don't let it win."
He tried, drawing deep breaths, her voice anchoring him as the surge faded. His senses settled slightly, though the forest's pull remained, a whisper in his blood. He glanced at the book on the table, its worn cover taunting him. "What's in there?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"Rituals, herbs, the pack's history," she replied, her tone guarded. "Some say there's a way to break the curse, but it's dangerous. We'll need time and you'll need to stay here, away from the moon."
He nodded, too exhausted to argue, but the pull was strong, tugging at him with every heartbeat. She handed him another cup of the bitter water, and he drank, the taste masking the hunger that gnawed at him. His vision flickered again, amber edges framing the room, and he blinked it away, focusing on Elara's face, her steady eyes, the faint worry line between her brows.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked, his voice softer now. "You could let me go, let the pack take me."
Her expression softened, a hint of something personal in her gaze, but she turned away, busying herself with the cloth. "Because I've seen what happens when no one does. And… you're not like the others. Not yet."
The words hung between them, a thread of connection he couldn't grasp, and he let it go, too tired to chase it. The room grew quiet, the mist pressing against the window, and a howl echoed outside, closer than before. His scar burned, and his
nails lengthened slightly, retracting as he clenched his fists. Elara watched, her hand ready on the book, and he knew the fight was just beginning.
That night, sleep eluded him, his senses alive with every sound, the wind, the inn's timbers, Elara's soft breathing. He dreamed of the forest, the stones glowing, and a figure with his face, furred and snarling. He woke with a start, sweat-soaked, his eyes flickering amber in the mirror again. The curse was real, and it was reshaping
him, piece by piece. Elara's presence was his only tether, but her secrets loomed large, and he wondered if she was his salvation or the key to his undoing.