A Witch's Howl

you did this?

As we approach the pack house, a sense of eerie silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Sybil's comment about the scene being "creepy ass hell" couldn't be more accurate as we take in the sight before us.

The pack house, once a bustling hub of activity, now lies eerily still, its inhabitants scattered across the floor in a deep, unnatural slumber. It's a chilling sight, and I can't help but feel a shiver run down my spine as I take it all in.

"They're all sleeping so soundly," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper as I gaze at the motionless figures before us.

Sybil nods in agreement, her expression grim as she surveys the scene. "It's like something out of a horror movie," she remarks, her tone tinged with unease.

As we make our way through the silent corridors of the pack house, I can't shake the feeling that we're walking into the heart of darkness itself. But with Sybil by my side, I know that together, we'll uncover the truth and put an end to whatever dark forces are at work in this place.

As Matilda stands guard outside, Sybil and I search through the alpha's office for any clues that could shed light on the situation. The room is dimly lit, the only source of light filtering in through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor.

We scour the room, rifling through drawers and cabinets in search of anything that might be of use. Finally, our efforts pay off as we come across a small safe hidden beneath the desk.

"Jackpot," Sybil murmurs, a hint of excitement in her voice as she kneels down to inspect the safe.

With a few deft movements, I manage to crack the safe open, revealing its contents. Among the various trinkets and documents inside, one item catches our attention—a deep purple stone, its surface shimmering in the dim light.

Sybil reaches out to grab the stone, her eyes narrowing as she examines it closely. "This is... interesting," she says, her voice laced with curiosity.

I lean in for a closer look, my curiosity piqued. "What is it?" I ask, my gaze fixed on the mysterious stone.

Sybil's brow furrows in concentration as she studies the stone. "It's definitely magical," she says, her tone thoughtful. "But I'm not sure what its purpose is."

I nod in agreement, my mind racing with possibilities.

The sudden thump outside startles us, and Sybil and I exchange wary glances. Without a word, Sybil whispers for me to pocket the stone, and I comply, tucking it away safely.

Then, amidst the silence, we hear the unmistakable sound of Donny's voice, yelling curses into the night. Sybil moves to open the door carefully, and as it creaks open, we're met with a startling sight.

Outside, Matilda stands, her face twisted in anger as she shoots magic towards Donny, who's calling her a "two-timing wrench" amidst his own barrage of curses.

Sybil's eyes widen in realization as the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. "You bitch..." she breathes, her voice filled with a mix of shock and betrayal.

It dawns on us both—Matilda is the one behind the slumber that has befallen Dark Shadow. And she's after the stone we found in the alpha's office.

Without hesitation, Sybil steps forward, her expression hardening with determination. "Lilian. Take the tunnel." she demands, her voice cutting through the chaos of the night.

Matilda turns to face us, a sinister smirk playing on her lips as she meets our gaze. "You really thought you could stop me?" she taunts, her eyes gleaming with malice. "I'll do whatever it takes to get that stone."

"I better be right about you," Sybil looks at me and point towards the alphas office.

Sybil's fists clench at her sides, her resolve unwavering. "You're gonna regret this you, stupid bitch," she retorts, her voice dripping with defiance.

I rush over to Donny, who's on the ground, groaning in pain. "Donny, are you okay?" I ask, concern lacing my voice as I help him to his feet.

Sybil wastes no time, pushing Matilda out of the window with a burst of her magic. "Go!" she shouts, her voice urgent as she turns to face Matilda. "I'll hold her off. Get to the tunnel!"

Without hesitation, I nod, grabbing Donny's arm and pulling him towards the tunnel entrance. "Come on," I urge, my heart racing with adrenaline as we make a run for it.

As we reach the tunnel, I glance back to see Sybil and Matilda locked in a fierce battle, their magic clashing in bursts of light and energy. With a sinking feeling in my chest, I know that we can't stay to help her. We have to get to safety, and fast.

"Donny, come on!" I call, my voice echoing through the tunnel as we disappear into the darkness.

Together, we race through the winding passages, the air thick with tension and uncertainty. But as we emerge on the other side, a sense of relief washes over me.

"We made it," I breathe, a mixture of exhaustion and triumph coursing through my veins.

Donny nods, his expression grim as he takes in our surroundings. "Now what?" he asks, his voice low with uncertainty.

I glance around the room, my mind racing with possibilities. "Now, we find whatever we can and figure out how to stop Matilda," I reply, determination hardening my resolve.

I turn to Donny, confusion etched on my face. "Donny, how are you here and not sleeping?" I ask, my voice tinged with disbelief.

He gives me a wry smile, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled page. "I found this in Matilda's coat while I was trying to nap in the car," he explains, handing me the paper.

I take the page, my eyes scanning over the words. "Death sleep spells," I murmur, a chill running down my spine as I realize the implications.

"But that could still just be research," I argue, my mind racing with possibilities.

Donny shakes his head, his expression grim as he reaches into his pocket once more, pulling out an old photograph. "Take a look at this," he says, handing me the picture.

I take the photograph, my heart skipping a beat as I see the familiar face staring back at me. It's Matilda, but not as I know her. In the photo, she looks young and vibrant, surrounded by a group of people dressed in clothing from the 1940s.

I stare at the picture in shock, my mind struggling to process the revelation. "But... how?" I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

Donny's gaze is steady as he meets my eyes. "Matilda is Rowen," he explains, his words heavy with significance. "The Nocturnal."

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I feel a wave of disbelief wash over me. Matilda, the Nocturnal? It seems impossible, and yet, the evidence is staring me right in the face.