Of Silver Rays and Raven Fur | ONC24

16. Neomenia.

A thick pall of tenebrosity draped over the area, suffocating the light and plunging the wilderness into obscurity.

When their growls reverberated through the air, Alarick's chest vibrated with a deep rumble in response, his instincts primed for the impending confrontation.

Cracking his neck with a sharp twist, bent knees and curved shoulders brought him into a low crouch, mimicking the stance of a wolf. His gaze swept over his adversaries, pupils dilated in the dim light, every sense heightened to a razor's edge.

Then, in a whirl of motion, the battlefield erupted into a frenzy of fur and skin, a savage dance of nails and claws.

Alarick lunged forward, meeting them halfway. His fists blurred as they connected with the first wolf, sending it reeling backward with a yelp. With a swift pivot, he dodged the sharp teeth of another, countering with a powerful kick that sent it crashing into a nearby tree.

The forest erupted with vicious snarls, mixing with the sound of snapping jaws and tearing flesh—a cacophony of primal fury that echoed through the night.

The shameless encroachers attacked relentlessly. If one went down, another would replace them. Yet, Alarick remained undaunted, meeting their onslaught head-on, and unleashed a barrage of attacks that left them staggering. His fists and feet became deadly weapons, striking with the force of nature itself. 

Whenever their claws penetrated his flesh, his wounds were quickly sealed shut, and soon the speed of his healing surpassed the frequency of the afflictions. Despite their numbers, the wolves found themselves outmatched, struggling against his ferocity.

However, a sense of frustration coursed through Alarick's veins. A longing for his lupine form tugged at his heart. The exhilarating rush of his wolven instincts, the freedom of running wild and untamed through the forest, the feelings of sinking his incisors into flesh, and digging his claws into earth—these were sensations he sorely missed in his human form, and they persistently called out to him with unabated intensity.

Amidst the chaos, a glimpse of Accalia's watchful gaze from above spurred him on, igniting a fire within him. His resolve remained unyielding as he fought, driven by the need to prove his dominance, his strength, and, above all, his worthiness.

Every move he made seemed to flow effortlessly, a testament to the hours spent pouring over combat training books. Accalia couldn't help but marvel at his skill, wondering how much more powerful he could become with proper training.

A lucent aura engulfed him as moonlight seeped into his skin, soaking his entirety. With each strike, his heart beat harder, his blood coursed faster, and his body burned stronger. Then, from the deepest corners of his soul, a roar erupted, the sound reverberating through the forest as Alarick crumpled to the ground.

Scorching heat surged through him, and he writhed, his body contorting with each spasm. Molten lava set his muscles ablaze, his skin slick with sweat as it rippled with the overwhelming power that flowed through him.

The few remaining attackers paused, caught off guard by his transformation. But once they realized he was no longer a threat, saliva dripped from their muzzles as they advanced, intent on finishing him off in his vulnerable state.

However, their aggression was cut short by the sound of rapidly approaching steps. Their ears twitched back, and they growled, sensing an impending, new danger. Two wolves emerged from the woods, their light gray and dark brown fur blending with the shadows. Their pace slowed as they flanked Alarick on either side, baring their teeth in warning, daring anyone to approach.

The sight brought a smile to Accalia's lips as she observed from above.

"At last, it shall begin," she murmured.