Chapter 1

A cold winter night. The village is filled with screams. Snow on the ground is disturbed with signs of a panicked crowd. The village isn't too big, with fifteen houses at most, a trading post, a church, and an inn. Most of their territory is covered with farmland and snow, though the south side is mostly destroyed. The town is surrounded by a wooden wall ending on spikes, most likely to deter invaders. At the south entrance there is a broken gate. At the top, the name of the town in a wooden arch, though half of it lays in pieces at the floor, covered in mud. 'Welcome to Yaniyè', it used to say.

More screams are heard inside the houses. Broken doors and broken windows are present on most of them. Blood is spilled throughout the streets, the windows, and the walls.

Beasts are seen running around splashing mud around the village as they sprint, some on two legs and some on four. Their brown fur, covered in bloody mud. Their fangs covered with seething rage, hanging with rags of their victims.

A cry is heard in the back. A man kneels in front of the north exit, covered in blood and their ripped clothes and leathered armor. He uses one hand to cover his neck as it bleeds from a gashing wound. He is unable to use both hands as his other is holding his spear, on the floor, five meters away. A yell escapes his throat as the beasts rush him.

"Run!" The man screams desperately, interrupted by their jaws.

A woman runs away from the gate towards the forest, but it's too far. The distance gained by his sacrifice is reduced with every step she takes. She sprints as fast as she can, limited only by the bundle she carries inside a few small blankets, but it's all, for naught. A beast reaches her in seconds, sinking its fangs on her shoulder and its claws onto her torso. She cries in immeasurable pain, dropping the bundle as it itself lets out the cry of a baby.

The child falls, protected by the blankets and the soft snow it falls on, but not for long. The second and third beast rush the still screaming woman on the floor attempting to reach her child, to protect it. Unfortunately the wolves have no interest and tear her to shreds. The first creature hears the distress of the child and immediately switches their attention to it, charging it in the blink of an eye. The beast doesn't have to use its claws, it simply sinks its fangs on the child's entire body and draws blood.

Hours pass, the sun has come and is nearly down once more. Several people clad in armor of all types walk from the south gate towards the town. There are at least thirty of them. People in metal armor, leather, robes. Three carriages travel with them with beasts resembling raptors. They all walk in unison as they reach the destroyed farms to the south. The chaos that happened prior is reflected on the snow.

A robed man in front says with sadness in his voice "Werewolves, Solen... There are marks everywhere. We are late... Much too late." As he notices the unfathomable silence the snow brings. A man in front, wearing white and blue armor looks around and turns his head towards the back

"Weapons drawn, no surprises." Solen tells those behind him in a soft voice, and those behind him to the others. The message reaches everyone as they all draw their swords, bows, staves and more. The carriages are left there with the raptors.

Soon they reach the first blood stain. A mess. No one could possibly know what this was before its death. The more they walk the more blood they spot.

"Only a few of the villagers were caught outside, maybe some did make it out." The same robed man says. The woman in front wearing leather armor answers in a low voice "Don't get your hopes up, you know what we are up against."

They get to the entrance and separate into groups, each looking into the bloodied buildings, each coming out empty handed and nearly emptying their stomachs as well. One of them heads to the north entrance and notices the frozen body in the middle, laying on a carpet of red, frozen snow. Nearly intact, aside from its mortal wounds.

The woman. Oblea, looks outside, and shouts with distress, trying to get Solens attention "Captain!!!!!". She readies her spear as she sees a mountain of gray, brown and red far north of the entrance, about half ways from the forest line.

Everyone rushes to her as fast as they can, and one by one they see it too. Solen addresses Oblea and Astran, his second and third in command. "Three groups. Surround it. Slowly and carefully." They break into groups seamlessly without even talking to each other. The closer they get, the more they can hear a humming coming and going.

They can see the mass better, it is bloodied, and it has fur. Some of the fur can be seen moving with the wind, but most of it is unmoving due to the frozen blood covering it. They surround the mass from all sides. "It's a mountain of werewolves, Solen" Oblea says, in awe of what they are all seeing then continues. "At least twelve, maybe fifteen."

"What is that humming?" one of the hunters asks and hesitates to finish. "Is something inside?" They all stay quiet. "We move the bodies slowly. Regardless of what it is, if it's a threat, we must eliminate it." Solen says, and they begin their movement. Pushing the wolves to the side with ease. With the cold, the stiffness of their muscles is not as hard to shift, though the heavy weight of the bodies makes their job no easier. As they uncover the layers, the humming becomes increasingly louder. Almost becoming a cry.

The hunters look at each other with wide eyes "FASTER!" Oblea yells. Everyone begins to excavate the corpses in a hurry. They can finally hear the cries of a child, a baby. They uncover the top and see the child, laying in a literal pool of wolfen blood and fur. Oblea immediately picks up the child and covers it in some of her winter clothing, then looks at Solen's eyes with surprise, fear, and unfathomable disbelief. She looks down at the child, then at the pile and her eyes become even wider. "Saviil!" She screams in panic "Milk and a bottle!". Saviil looks in confusion for a split second, then breaks into a sprint into the town without questioning his orders.

Solen rubs the bridge of his nose, then speaks "Everyone into the town, fortify what you can, guard the child! Find others who may have survived!" His command is heard by all as they run off. They go into the town, and everyone begins working. The crying fills the town as everyone goes in and out of houses carrying remains and others repair the town gates. Saviil comes out of a random house and rushes to Oblea with a bottle of cold milk.

"No fire, madame. I am sorry." Oblea doesn't give it a second thought, she turns to Astran. "Astran! We need fires! And hot milk!" She holds the bottle up on her hand while holding the child with her other. Astran turns, lifts his staff and begins speaking. Massive magic circles begin appearing around himself and the town. Fires begin to materialize, as if campfires had been placed all over the town. He then extends his hand towards the bottle and ends his chant. The milk begins to bubble, then it settles in the span of a second.

Oblea gives the crying child the bottle, and it becomes silent as it begins eating. Oblea begins cleaning the child with some rags, noticing the bite marks. Not deep enough to be mortal, but deep enough to draw blood.

The adventurers continue their repairs, fixing the broken village. There are no survivors, aside from the baby. Night falls, there are various groups around a few of the fires. The three leaders, Solen, Oblea and Astran as well as their right hands are together in one of the fires. They all talk about the child, and how it could have survived the horde of fourteen wolves.

Oblea jumps in, "The wolves were dead before they even reached her. Something killed them, Saviil took a look at those wolves, they all died of sharp weapons. Something long and sharp enough to go from one side to the other. It would take our entire party to fight this many of them."

Saviil adds "Aye. Madame is correct. The same type of weapon killed every single one of them. The wound seems to have come from within the center of the mass of wolf corpses." Oblea then looks at Astran, who notices and thinks for a moment, then raises his hand. The fires disperse, and a light appears above the middle of the villagers, giving them illumination. Then his hand moves towards the child.

Astran then raises his voice and addresses the crowd "I've put the child in a deeper state of sleep, for our safety. The child was bitten by several wolves. Alive, in a circle of death. Crying in a pool of blood. Protected by the flesh and fur of its many dead aggressors. The possibility of this child having a terrible ability is very high." Everyone leans forward to listen carefully, then Astran continues. "Bloodcraft, the ability to control one's blood. Though control might be a bit vague at her age." His speech gets murmurs from all around them, a frown from the captain, and a surprised look on Oblea.

Oblea looks down at the child in her arms. Saddened by the news. "If we turn her in and she does end up with that skill, she is destined for a life of misery. At best, an execution." She looks at the infant with worry and sorrow, not being able to look anywhere else. She pulls the child's little blankets even tighter around her.