Demons of Doubt

When Seraphyne woke up, she could still remember how she craved blood during her fight last night.

The memory of her intense desire for blood during the fight lingered in her thoughts a little longer than expected.

On one side, a part of her felt a sense of exhilaration and power from the primal urge she had experienced. The taste of victory and the metallic tang of blood was still vivid on her tongue, reminding her of her strength.

But on the other side, a wave of guilt and shame washed over her. The thought of craving blood, of succumbing to such primal instincts, made her question her own humanity.

It felt like a dark stain on her soul, threatening to consume the light within her. She wondered if she was losing control and whether her vampire blood would constantly push her to taste blood.

She yearned for guidance, for someone to help her make sense of these conflicting emotions. Seraphyne knew she couldn't face this inner battle alone. She needed to find a way to embrace her true nature without losing herself.

As the morning light filtered through her window, Seraphyne made a decision. 'I need to steel myself and face the problem without reservations! I can only grow stronger if I don't run.'

'Ah... My salted fish dreams are easily shattered with one problem showing on my door.'

She would seek out others who had faced similar struggles, those who could understand the complexity of her inner battle. She would find a way to reconcile her primal instincts with her humanity, to find a balance that would allow her to embrace her true self without succumbing to darkness.

'I am not a monster.'

'I am not a monster.'

'I am not a monster.'

'I don't eat people.'

'I don't drink blood.'

'I'm just a lost soul wanting to be a salted fish.'

'I will be an excellent salted fish...'

'The most glorious salted fish!' she chanted slowly as if calming the irritation within her nerves.

But when she was about to wipe the sweat on her forehead, she saw her hands dyed in red. She wanted to scream, but her voice was stuck somewhere.

'What's wrong with my hands?'

'Is it my time of the month?'

'I can't calm down!'

The scent of dried blood lingered in the air, and she was too shocked to move. Her fingers shook uncontrollably as she tried to remember what she did last night after going to bed, but she had no memories of it.

She desperately wracked her brain, searching for any semblance of a memory that could explain the bloodstains. But all she found were gaps and blank spaces, like a void where her recollections should have been.

Seraphyne's heart raced as panic set in. She sat up in bed, staring at her bloodied hands in disbelief.

'The bed is clean!'

'This is not my aunt's work...'

'So what happened when I was sleeping?'

The room around her was calm. Everything seemed so ordinary, yet the blood on her hands was a chilling reminder of something she couldn't recall. As she sat there, her mind racing, the room seemed to close in on her. The once comforting sunlight now felt suffocating.

'What's happening to me? I can only remember being unscathed and Kieiran escorting me back to the pack house.'

'I also remember taking a bath and going to sleep! Do I have a habit of sleepwalking? But whose blood is on me?' 

It was something she couldn't remember, and it left her feeling like a stranger in her own skin.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together the previous night's events. She remembered the intense fight at the East border and the exhilaration she felt as she engaged the rogues. But after that, her memories were fragmented, like a jigsaw puzzle missing crucial pieces.

"Did something happen after the fight?" she muttered to herself.

"Could I have sleepwalked, or...?"

Fear crept in as she realized that she had no answers. She couldn't account for the blood on her hands, and the idea of sleepwalking and potentially harming someone in the process was terrifying.

Summoning her courage, Seraphyne got out of bed and carefully examined her body. No wounds or injuries were on her, which was suspicious considering the amount of blood she saw. Her nightgown was clean, and her skin appeared unblemished.

After taking a deep breath, she decided to clean her hands and investigate further. As she made her way to the bathroom, she tried to recall if there was anything unusual about the room or her surroundings when she woke up. Had anything else been out of place?

Seraphyne turned on the tap and watched as the water washed away the crimson stains on her hands. She knew she needed to find answers, to understand what had transpired during those missing moments of the night.

But she also knew she couldn't let anyone else know about this. The consequences of her actions, whatever they were, could be disastrous if revealed.

As Seraphyne made her way to the dining area, she couldn't help but notice the empty table. Usually, the pack members gathered here for their meals, exchanging stories and discussing various matters.

But today, everyone appeared preoccupied with their own tasks and concerns.

'I might be late for breakfast.'

A servant approached her, offering a plate of food. "Breakfast is served, Luna," the servant said with a respectful nod.

"Thank you," Seraphyne replied, her thoughts lingering on the empty table.

As she began to eat her meal, she couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment. It was as if the pack members had withdrawn into themselves, each lost in their own world. It starkly contrasted the lively and communal atmosphere she had witnessed during her earlier days in the pack.

Curiosity and concern welled within her, and she used her unique mental powers to gather information. With a subtle and controlled effort, she extended her consciousness, reaching out to the thoughts and emotions of those around her.

Voices and snippets of conversation filled her mind like a tapestry of thoughts woven together. The pack members' discussions were varied, but one topic seemed to dominate their conversations.

"Have you heard?" one voice inquired.

"About what?" another responded.

"I heard a pack of rogues from the south were annihilated," the first voice continued, "and only the remains of ashes and bones were left in the crime scene!"

The news sent a ripple of surprise through Seraphyne's thoughts. She had sensed a shift in the pack's collective mood, but this revelation explained it all. The recent events involving the rogue pack seemed to have captured their attention.

"They are criminals in nature," someone else chimed in.

"Should we still care if they live or not?"

The response was mixed. Some believed that rogue werewolves were menace and deserved their fate, while others seemed more compassionate.

"We should! Imagine how strong the person who killed them all is," a voice countered.

"I heard that rogue pack has a member with the strength of a Berserker werewolf!"

The mention of a Berserker piqued Seraphyne's interest. She had already learned about the legendary Berserkers and their extraordinary power.

"Impossible! A Berserker is like nine stages stronger than the housekeepers!"

Seraphyne was thoughtful of the news she heard from eavesdropping.

'I should study the levels of cultivation amongst werewolves again! Maybe I can find a link to the answers I am looking for.'

Seraphyne continued to gather information from the pack members' conversations. As she listened to their discussions, she couldn't help but wonder about the strength and abilities of the rogue pack they were talking about.

The mention of a Berserker werewolf was particularly intriguing. She knew that the Berserkers were legendary among werewolves, possessing immense power and unique abilities.

"I've heard tales of the Berserkers," she mused to herself.

"Their strength is said to be unmatched, but they often struggle to control their rage. The way of cultivating to this stage is life-threatening to most."

She decided to dig deeper into this topic, hoping it would provide clues about the previous night's strange events. Using her mental powers, she delved into her thoughts and memories, seeking information about the different werewolf stages and their strengths.

As she recalled the details from her reading and observations, she mentally classified the various stages of werewolf cultivation.

~ Werewolf Cultivation Levels ~

1. Warrior (Up to Level VIII)

2. Elite (Up to Level V)

3. Berserker (Up to Level III)

4. Lunar Knight (Up to Level III)

5. Shadow Knight (Up to Level III)

6. Lycan Lord (Grades E, D, C, B, A, S, SS, SSS)

She knew that each stage brought increased strength and unique abilities.

'Lunar Knights are very rare too!'

Her mind continued to work, piecing together the puzzle.

'Could the rogue pack leader have been a Berserker?' she wondered.

'If so, who could have defeated such a seasoned opponent?'

The mysteries were piling up, and Seraphyne knew she needed more information to make sense of the events.

She couldn't shake the feeling that there was a connection between her missing memories, the bloodstains on her hands, and the annihilation of the rogue pack to the south.