Son of hell - Blood of wolves

Chapter 1 - Daughter's Revolt

Revolt and hunger

Scream in your head

Listen to their voices

Trust hanging by a thread

Obsession under mask

Innocent? Don't ask!

Your killer is your anger

Revolt and hunger

Aragen thought of neither meat nor blood, only of excitement. She had never killed a human before. None of the Young had. Her father would not allow it. In his opinion it was too dangerous. Aragen thought otherwise. Somewhere deep inside she felt a desperate emptiness in her life that could only be filled by one thing, excitement. She instinctively knew that her voracious craving could only be appeased by murdering someone.

She did not lack courage. Yet she had not decided to make the forbidden visit to the village until today. The pack had been camped in the forested hills above the village for several weeks already. A day would not go by without Aragen standing on the hill looking down at the small village of Maily. She pondered about the everyday life of an ordinary human, questioning how their society worked, their laws, their families. Would one feel the seductive animal warmth, the heat and fervour of their blood and their beating hearts that her mother always talked about? Her father never mentioned the ancient hunts, when the Black Messenger still led his offspring. He brought only dead, stiff, cold victims to the camp. It was purely a matter of survival, with neither pleasure, tension, nor excitement.

Aragen wanted more. She knew she could have it and was predestined to get it. She believed that her power was not born in vain. She had always known that she would need more from life and that it was there for the taking if only she had the ability and strength to do it. Aragen had both. She knew it so unwaveringly that she trembled with tension as she approached the small village.

As darkness fell stealthily, silently and mysteriously over the forest, she made her way through the trees, twigs softly crunching under her feet. Her heart beat loudly. With each new breath, the air became damper and colder. Aragen stopped and clung to a wide trunk. In the twilight she saw light radiating from the first hut. She was excited, but it was not thatexcitement. She thought about how vulnerable the people were, living their empty lives in peace, with no respect for or fear of the superior beings they had almost exterminated. Aragen was convinced that werewolves would one day rise again.

She took a deep breath and entered the village. Human scent immediately attacked her olfactory cells. She inhaled it passionately, savouring it, until the point she thought she would almost suffocate from it and desperately wanted to run away. She restrained herself and her senses slowly calmed down. She saw villagers moving between the houses. There were women in long, simple dresses, men with tired faces, and screaming children. They were playing a strange game, running behind one another and trying to catch each other. Aragen came to a crossroads, stood and watched with intrigue. She waited to see if they would show some signs of aggression towards her, but there was none. They just laughed and in each of their gestures was something warm and friendly.

She noticed that the humans were intently watching her with curiosity. She turned away. Compared to them, she looked rather shabby. In the pack they were used to covering up because of their shape shifting, using veils and old rags to do so. She must have reminded them of a lost child.