BEASTLY INFERNO

BEASTLY INFERNO:35

The house was silent, save for the frantic beat of our hearts echoing in the stillness. My parents and I stood frozen, staring out the window as the monstrous creature bore down on Tristan with unstoppable momentum.

Tristan braced himself, his fiery mane blazing brighter, but even in his powerful hellhound form, he seemed dwarfed by the sheer size and brutality of the transformed wolf-beast.

"Neroli, what *is* that thing?" my mother whispered, clutching the back of a chair for support. Her face was ashen, her knuckles white.

"I—I don't know," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I've never seen anything like it before."

Before I could say anything more, the creature let out a thunderous roar, swiping at Tristan with a massive, clawed paw. He dodged just in time, the blow missing him by mere inches and splintering a tree trunk instead. But the beast didn't relent—it snapped its jaws, lunging again and again with terrifying ferocity.

"Is he going to be okay?" my father asked, his voice strained. "Neroli  can Tristan... win this?"

"I hope so," I whispered, my heart sinking as I watched Tristan narrowly evade another attack. "He has to."

But it was clear that the tide was turning. The monstrous creature's strength was overwhelming, its attacks relentless and brutal. Every time Tristan tried to counter, the beast swatted him away as if he were nothing more than a bothersome fly.

Panic gripped my chest as I watched Tristan struggle. He stumbled back, panting heavily, his fiery mane flickering weakly. The creature advanced, its scaled body shimmering with a sickly green light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

I clenched my fists, feeling utterly helpless. I needed to do something—anything—to help him. But what could I possibly do against something like *that*?

"Stay back!" Tristan's voice boomed through the window, deep and reverberating in his hellhound form. His gaze flicked to me, his red eyes burning with intensity. "Don't come outside, Neroil! It's too dangerous!"

"But—" I started, only to be cut off by another roar as the beast lunged again, jaws snapping dangerously close to Tristan's throat.

"Listen to him, Neroil!" my father insisted, grabbing my arm. "We can't do anything out there—we'll only get in the way!"

He was right. As much as I hated it, I knew he was right. But that didn't make it any easier to stand by and watch as Tristan faced down a creature that seemed hell-bent on tearing him apart.

Suddenly, Tristan's form shimmered again, shifting and twisting until he was no longer the hulking hellhound, but something smaller, faster—a sleek, silver-furred kitsune with multiple tails that lashed the air like whips. He darted around the beast with lightning speed, his movements agile and fluid.

"Whoa," my father breathed, his eyes wide. "He's... a fox now?"

"Not just a fox," I said softly, my gaze never leaving Tristan as he circled the creature. "He's a kitsune. A fox spirit with... different abilities."

But even in this form, Tristan struggled to keep the beast at bay. He lunged at it, snapping at its legs and weaving between its attacks, but every time he managed to land a hit, the beast seemed to shrug it off, its hide impenetrable.

My stomach twisted with fear. This wasn't a fight—this was a massacre waiting to happen.

And then, something changed.

The beast snarled, its green eyes narrowing as it tracked Tristan's every movement. It stopped its relentless assault, watching him with a strange, unsettling focus. A low growl rumbled in its chest, and I realized with a jolt of horror that it was no longer trying to kill him.