Prayers of the Lycanthrope

The Night of Terror

It had been 6 years since the werewolf attack, but it still felt as if it happened only yesterday. I can still feel my flesh being mangled by their claws and the fear in my gut when I saw them coming for me with those glowing eyes. Every night, the memories come flooding back like a vivid nightmare and all I can do is shudder at how close I came to death that night.

My heart leapt into my throat as a loud growl echoed from the shadows of the forest. I could feel its eyes on me as it stalked closer, and I dropped my basket of kindling in alarm. With a final burst of courage, I scooped up a nearby branch and brandished it like a sword. The monstrous werewolf snarled viciously as it stepped out of the darkness and advanced towards me with deadly intent.

Despite my best efforts to remain optimistic about the situation, an icy chill filled me from head to toe. I had heard stories of werewolves lurking on the outskirts of the forest, but I never thought it would be me they'd come for. As darkness took over that night, a horrifying howl filled the air and all at once I froze with fear. In mere moments the moon was out and reflecting off something deadly charging my way... a werewolf! Fear began to rise in my chest as I gulped down air.

The werewolf sprang out of the shadows, letting out a haunting howl. Its claws dug into my skin as it pinned me to the ground and its black eyes seemed to bore right into my soul. It opened its maw wide, revealing sharp fangs that glinted in the moonlight. Before I could react, it lunged forward with great speed and ferocity, tackling me with a powerful base instinct fueled by aggression and anger.

I felt my world turn upside down when the werewolf attacked me. It happened so fast and I still can't believe it. I tried to scream, but no sound came out as I lay on the ground bleeding and fighting for breath. For several hours, I struggled with life and death until, in a distant corner of the forest, someone noticed me, a priest.

The priest notices me from the corner of his eye and comes rushing over. I can barely feel it as he checks my wounds, but soon enough a cool numbness spreads across my body. He wraps bandages around me with the utmost care. When he's done, he looks into my eyes and asks about my family. My heart drops to pieces like shattered glass, I am an orphan, all alone in this world.

He looked worriedly at me as he bandaged my wounds. "Do not worry," he said, "But I have to take you to the chantry. Your wounds are too severe and there is no way I can provide the level of care for them here that will be needed if you are ever going to fully recover." His words pierced through my heart like a lance and a wave of fear crept up inside of me. He stared at me, waiting for an answer. I can tell he truly believes that this will be the best thing to do for my injuries and I reluctantly agree. He attempts to lift me up but quickly realizes that it won't likely end well. Knowing this, he gently takes hold of my arms and helps prop me up in a seated position before cradling both of his hands around my back as if hoisting me onto his shoulders.

As we approached the chantry, I saw a figure moving quickly towards us. He carries me into the room and places me onto one of the beds. It is then I recognize what it is: a woman, an angel of mercy with her healing tools in hand. She immediately gets to work on my wounds, stitching them up with careful precision. Gently, she applies ointment to stop any infection from occurring before wrapping my body in bandages.

My senses dulled and I could feel myself slipping away, or maybe into something else entirely. Suddenly, all sounds faded from my ears until there was nothing but silence around me. I couldn't tell how much time had passed before I finally opened my eyes again to see the walls of the chantry stretching above us both, barren and austere yet calming in their own way.

I wake up hours later to find myself tucked snugly into a bed surrounded by warm walls of stone and adorned with ancient artworks hung on them. The walls of my surroundings are cold and still, the silence ringing through my ears like a bell in an empty cathedral. With barely conscious thoughts, I realized this could only mean one thing: I had been called to join the chantry and begin training as a priestess.