A New Life

by Payton Cavallo

  She squinted as she aimed the shot.

  “Electranius!” Blue lightning leapt crackled across the air as it slammed into the beast’s body, the monstrosity writhing in agony under her electrical assault. “Got you now…you monster. Craeft is…safe, and I’ll…I’ll…” She knelt down. ‘Get up Aethel. You didn’t…’ She forced herself to stand as she limped back to her home.

  “Craeft…gotta…find...” Her words were slurred as she got closer and closer to her home’s steps.

  She had done it.

  The werewolf was dead and now she could go make sure Craeft was fine and get some care for her woun-

  She gasped as a clawed hand wrapped around her ankle, and she turned. A single crimson orb full of hate stared back at her, promising nothing but agony. And that’s what she felt as it yanked back, dislocating her leg.

  Her screams rang through the night air as she felt it slowly crawl on top of her, it’s rage palpable as it slowly cut her torso with its claws, leaving slits with blood flowing out of them. She struggled, her fist lancing out and slamming into the side of its head, but the combination of blood loss and magical fatigue had left her helpless.

  Left her trapped with the monster.

  Aethel could see the intelligence in its eye along with the madness and maliciousness. She knew that it wanted nothing less than to tear her to pieces, especially after she dared to put up a fight and even wound it. And she knew that it would probably go for Craeft next, her precious son, if nothing else but spite for the woman who grievously wounded him.

  She would not leave this world without a fight. She could see the damned monster’s amusement as she struggled with all her might, but it was for naught as the beast was too strong.

  Aethel twisted and turned as its toothy maw slowly descended onto her neck. But as it grew closer and closer, she felt nothing but despair fill her at the thought of what would happen after she died.

  ‘No! This can’t end here like this! If I can’t beat this beast now, it’ll go in and kill my son! I’ve just gotta get up!’ The beast snarled as it blood dripped out of its nose, a result of a nasty headbutt courtesy of Aethel. ‘Get up and move stupid body! MOVE!’

  Green eyes frantically looked everywhere for any options, hoping to find something. They widened as she spotted a red robed man striding forward, his Amulet Glove glowing a bright silver.

  “Silverus Propogentum!” The Werewolf reeled back as its arm was impaled with silver stakes. A howl of rage and pain left its throat as it jumped off of her, which aggravated her wounds further. The beast quickly fled the scene as the stranger repeated the spell several times, as silver stakes dotted the ground. The conjured stakes soon dissipated as the stranger walked up, clearly male by his build.

  Aethel looked up at him with her emerald eyes, blackness slowly overtaking her vision as she bled out. She felt his gloved hand touch her torso.

  “Stitchius Maxim.”

  She groaned as green stitches appeared and closed the wounds, the flood of her life-giving fluid reduced to a mere trickle. “Thank Miion I learned basic first aid from some books. Really comes in handy when dealing with these creatures.” The man let out a small chuckle at the expression on her face.

  “I know it hurts, but don’t worry love. You’ll be feeling much better once I get you to a Bio Healer.” She felt weightless as he levitated her off the ground with a quiet “Levitarum”. “By Miion, that beast really tore you, up didn’t he?”

  She could barely make out his features as her eyes were feeling heavier. However, while she didn’t trust him as they had just met, even if he did save her life, she couldn’t leave her son behind without her. She lifted her left arm up, her right too damaged to move it, and pointed her index finger at her home.

  “My son.”

  “You’ve got a little one in there?” He smiled, revealing bright white teeth. “Don’t worry. I’ll take him with me.”

  After he spoke, Aethel couldn’t hold on any longer and passed out.

  When she regained consciousness, the first thing her eyes focused on was her son. Then the stranger that sat beside him, the room surrounding them being the standard white that most hospital rooms were.

  “Oh love, you’re awake. Thought you’d pull a sleeping beauty and I’d have to wake you up with a kiss.” The man who was before her was positively angelic. High cheek bones with perfect tanned skin framed gorgeous bluish-grey eyes, with blonde hair flowing down the side of his head. “You got yourself cut up real good from that fight, but I got to admit, it took some guts to take on a werewolf in close quarters.”

  “Where…am I?” She groaned as she tried to sit up, the cot she was laying on moving slightly.

  A strong arm pushed her down which surprised her since she was larger than him. “Whoa now, you just got healed up with the Healing Gel. Just lay there for a bit longer and you’ll be good as new.”

  “Stay…here?” She clutched her head as the Numbing Potion began to wear off. The cool ice that filled her nerves left her and the phantom sensations of the werewolf’s assault racked her body. “Where am I?!”

  “Listen love, you’re at the hospital. I’m just going to need you to calm down as your wounds heal-“

  “Calm down?! I just nearly got killed by a freak of nature that shouldn’t even be near this area so don’t tell me to calm down! The last werewolf sighting was in Angabey, so what I want to know is why that thing is even here to begin with?!” She snarled as she pointed at him. “And get away from my son!”

  “Whoa easy easy. I’m a friend.” Aethel narrowed her eyes. “Or well, an acquaintance really. Look if I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done it back when you were on the ground and bleeding out, love. Hell, I found your son on his way to Athsbane. Don’t you think you should give me a chance?”

  She grumbled as she saw her sleeping boy, Craeft seeming to have passed out from exhaustion as he waited for his mother to wake up. “Fine, I’ll trust you. For now. But what even were you doing around there at that time of night? Not that I’m complaining, but it seems rather odd that you’d show up right in the nick of time to save me like that.”

  “Well, I’m glad you seem to think me saving your life is grounds for suspicion,” Aethel scoffed at his sarcastic tone. “But I was hunting that beast down.”

  Aethel raised an eyebrow at that, as if beckoning him to continue.

  “That beast has been a menace for months now. Ms. Alcott contacted me weeks ago to take the thing out, and unfortunately, I only got here recently. Sorry you had to suffer through that stuff love, but I couldn’t really track it till recently. It seems we have quite the clever one on our hands.”

  “Yeah I noticed that too. I thought werewolves were supposed to be stupid brutes. Fast and deadly brutes, but brutes all the same.” Aethel replied. Her hospital gown parted slightly to reveal the scars on her legs left by the shrapnel. She winced as she looked at the small circular scars dotting her leg.

  “They are. But this one…this one is different.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Nevertheless, I think you deserve a congratulations. And possibly a stiff drink. You survived a werewolf attack. Not many can attest to that.”

  “I’m just thankful I’m alive. That beast would have torn me apart if it hadn’t been playing with me.” She grimaced as she checked under her gown, noticing the lack of claw marks on her torso. “Huh, thought I’d be riddled with scars.” Then her eyes widened as she saw the star-like puncture wounds on her leg. “Never mind.”

  “Ah, the gel doesn’t work as well against puncture wounds.” He shrugged. “So unfortunately, you’re probably going to be having those scars for life, unless you find yourself a nice bio healer to fix yourself up. Or my cousin, but she’s a bit pricy.”

  “After all the crap I’ve gone through, someone seeing my legs are the least of my concerns.” She slowly sat up and introduced herself, man looking at her with caution in his eyes as she extended her right hand. “My name is Aethel Proudhill
.”

  “Leas Evans.” He shook her hand.

  “Ms. Alcott’s relative?” She tilted her head. “I would’ve thought you’d have more the Alcott family’s features. Black hair, pale skin, you know.”

  A small laugh slipped through his lips. “Yes, I get that a lot, love. But as I said, she’s a relative. Or to be more precise, my cousin. Even if sometimes I’d rather she not be.” He pulled a letter out of his red robes, the nice golden wax seal on it indicating that it was from someone with money. “Mrs. Alcott wanted me to hand this to you.”

  Aethel gave him a questioning look as she took the letter in her hand and pried it open. Her eyes scanned the document, only widening a fraction as she read. “An invitation to Alcott Manor? Huh, I wonder why she wants me there.”

  “Most likely since she heard about the attack. Word spreads fast around small towns like these. Not much going on around here love, so people are rather eager to gossip.” He smirked as her brow twitched.

  “They should be eager to keep their mouths shut and mind their own business.”

  “No doubt, but commoners like to…how do you say…speak their minds? Though, I can’t say us nobles are any better.” A smirk played across his lips. “Either way, I wouldn’t deny her invitation.”

  Aethel let out a snort at that. Why would she deny the person who both owned her house, and whose relative had saved her from the clutches of that ravenous beast? She had no intention of being homeless again and if she had to suck up to the local noble to do it, then she’d do just that.

  She couldn’t pay bills with pride after all.

  “I’m not stupid y’know.” The small smirk turned into a full-blown grin revealing plenty of pearly white teeth.

  “Says the woman who tried to take on a werewolf in close quarters.” Her face did a very good impression of a tomato, turning bright red as she blushed in embarrassment.

  “Shut up.”

  “Speaking of the werewolf, I would advise you to leave this to the professionals, aka, myself. If it comes after you again, you get outta there, understand?”

  “Run away. On foot. From a werewolf?” The words were less of a question and more of an insult to his intelligence. “You must be joking.”

  “Eh, running away is always a viable option. Perhaps if you grabbed your son and left, you wouldn’t be left with those nasty scars on your leg.” He shrugged. “Of course, that’s all about what ifs and maybes, and I don’t like dwelling on that. If you don’t want to follow my warning about not fighting the werewolf, then fine. You’ll probably be a corpse by the time the next full moon comes around. Either way, I’m getting payed for hunting it.”

  “Gee, thanks for the advice. Giving me tips on how to live before telling me you don’t care whether I live or die, really fills me with confidence.”

  “What can I say? I just seem to have a way with words.” She wanted to punch that smug grin off his face so badly. He pulled out a small hand-held mirror and tapped it. Grey eyes narrowed as he looked at it. “Would you look at the time?” The chair squeaked as the gentleman stood up. “I should be heading back to the manor to report to Mrs. Alcott. I’m sure you’ll wither away without my amazing self to keep you company.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I will.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and the man let out a small chuckle before he left the room, leaving Aethel alone with her sleeping son. Her face was scrunched up as the sterile smell reached her nose, the Sterilization Charms doing their work and keeping the environment clean at the cost of smelling absolutely horrid.

  ‘By Miion, I can’t wait till I get out of here. Because when I do, I’m going to hunt that animal down and kill it. Screw what he said, the next time I see that thing, I’m going to send it to the afterlife for coming after my family! I’ll protect my son, no matter what!’

  Chapter Four

  Gawain downed a shot, the liquid fire burning his throat on the way down. He grimaced as he felt the hot sensation in his stomach, but it didn’t stop him from ordering another glass of Urappu Whiskey, the bitter taste one that he both liked and hated in equal measure. He slouched onto the bar, the stool providing a bit of comfort as he listened to the country music playing out of the radio. Gawain enjoyed the small time he had to himself when he wasn’t working on his Crattlerat ranch.

  It allowed him the time to think and reminisce of the good ol’ days with his wife, Glorina. Ah, now there was a woman. Bright brown eyes like a cream-filled coffee, and just as delicious. Brown hair that framed her face and made her seem like she was hand-crafted by Miion himself.

  She was perfection given human form.

  And the perfect woman was taken away from him by that despicable werewolf. The same werewolf that had attacked once again, putting Aethel in the hospital. It infuriated him that the beast that murdered his wife was still on the loose, still hurting people. His grip tightened on the glass, his palms turning white from the strain.

  “Give me another.”

  The bartender, a small mouse of a man, complied. The acrid scent of the alcohol reached his nose and he downed the shot. It numbed the anger, letting him enjoy himself, even if he was lonely despite all the commotion around him.

  A few men played a game of cards at the table behind him, another hosting a few people of darker complexion and curly hair, most likely traders from Aiser, that were heading towards the capital city of Ascea and decided to stop in the Green Hag tavern to grab a drink.

  Yet he sat alone at the bar.

  Just the way he liked it.

  “There you are.” Gawain turned at the sound of the voice and saw his son. There went his privacy. “I knew I could find you here.”

  Gawain ordered another drink as his son sat next to him. It was silent for a few moments as Gawain got his glass of whiskey, gently sipping on it this time rather than gulping it down. He didn’t want to be too plastered to speak with his son after all, even if he would have preferred to have been alone so he could drink his misery away.

  “I’m guessing you heard about the attack?” Rayan said.

  “Tch, of course. The whole town has heard about it.” Gawain said. His brow furrowed in anger as he spoke. “And it managed to mess up Aethel.”

  “Yeah I heard.” Rayan said, before he ordered a pint of beer. He sat with his father and slowly drank as well. “I can’t believe she was attacked though.”

  “Concerned over your girlfriend?” Gawain asked, a small smirk sliding across his face. Despite the grim situation, he wouldn’t lose a chance to needle his son over his little crush. And judging by the blush sliding across his face, Gawain knew he had hit the mark.

  “That’s not it.” Rayan quickly replied. A little too quickly.

  “Uh-huh.” Gawain was unconvinced.

  “It isn’t. It’s just…why her? There are people farther out, more isolated. It could’ve made an easy meal out of some of the farmers, but it chose to go after a rune crafter? It just doesn’t add up.” Rayan said.

  “It’s a beast Rayan.” Gawain said, looking at his reflection in his glass. He hated seeing himself like this, his eyes drooped slightly from the tiny buzz he had gotten, but it numbed the hole in his heart that Glorina had left behind when she passed away. “It doesn’t need a reason or a method. It only knows how to kill, just like it did to your mother.”

  He gripped the shot glass so hard that he could see tiny fractures spreading along the glass. Gawain took several deep breaths before sipping a bit more of his alcohol and letting the numbness fill his mind.

  “You know that’s not true father.” Rayan said. “They’re not mindless beasts. They used to be human and some semblance of that probably remains behind. Otherwise it would just run rampant and attack everything.”

  “I don’t care what they were son,” Gawain replied. “I honestly don’t. It won’t bring your mother back, and it certainly won’t help your girlfriend.”

  “She’s a friend, father.” Rayan said.

  Gawain snorted. “Of cou
rse she is. Just a friend.” He saw Rayan become far more focused on his pint glass, obviously trying to hide the small blush on his face. “Either way, we’re going to have to become far more serious about this hunting thing. It took my wife’s life, and it nearly took Aethel’s life. We need to put a stop to this before it kills again.” Gawain looked into Rayan’s bright blue eyes, “I don’t think I could live with myself if it took you away from me.”

  “Father…” Rayan shook his head. “I know mother’s death hurt. By the Abyss, it felt like someone had jammed a knife into my chest when I heard she was dead…”

  “Rayan…just don’t.” Gawain said. “I know what you’re gonna say. You’re gonna tell me that I need to move on, that it’s been months since they couldn’t find a trace of her and only found the werewolf’s claw marks and a bit of blood, but I can’t son. I just…I can’t.” Gawain said, his eyes watery. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, preventing anything from spilling out.

  He refused to cry in front of his son. Even if he a bit drunk, he would not lose it in front of his child.

  “…are you serious about this whole werewolf hunting thing?” Rayan asked. “I know you’ve tried over the months to trap it so you could take it out, but it would always either avoid the traps or get away. If we’re serious about this, we’re going to need someone who could trap it.”

  “Why not your girlfriend?” Gawain asked.

  “For the last time father, she is not my girlfriend.”

  “Oh come on, don’t think I haven’t noticed you visiting her store.” Gawain said. He was glad the mood had lightened as he didn’t want to have the night be full of misery, or at least, he didn’t want Rayan to be miserable as well. “I doubt you went there just to buy runes every time. Though, I didn’t know you were into taller women…”

  Rayan ignored his father’s remark. “Moving on,” Gawain smiled at his son, a roguish grin playing at his lips. “We could use her runes. They are perfect for barriers, and we could cage the beast in with them, and you and I could pepper it with spells till it drops dead.”