Deep into the night, Valerian moved quietly through the camp, making his final rounds before getting some rest.
The forest stretched around them, vast and silent—too silent. His instincts prickled, an eerie sensation creeping up his spine.
Then, a sound. A whisper of movement.
Valerian turned sharply—only to come face-to-face with a massive, snarling werewolf lunging straight at him.
Reflex took over. In a flash, he drew his sword, barely managing to parry the beast's deadly claws. The force of the impact rattled through his arms, sending him stumbling back. The werewolf was relentless, its fangs bared, saliva dripping as it readied to pounce again.
But Valerian wasn't unprepared. With a swift, brutal kick, he drove his boot into the creature's chest, forcing it backward. It barely staggered, but its glowing yellow eyes flickered downward—landing on the hidden silver dagger tucked into his boot.
