— What are you thinking so early in the morning?

— That if they’re not back by the end of the month, I’ll go to Mendraria and drag them back…

— I’m sure they’ll be back soon. With what’s happening here in Berkshire, she won’t be able to ignore it for much longer… Her home is here…

— As if you didn’t know her, Casey… She doesn’t get attached. To nowhere and no one…

— It doesn’t hurt to hope… — Casey sighed and opened his jacket, taking out a pack of cigarettes and offering one to Damion, who, surprisingly, accepted.

Casey lit his and took a drag, feeling the burning sensation travel down his throat. After a few moments of silence, Damion broke the silence.

— How bad is the situation? Zane seems to be good at keeping his mouth shut… Brock chose well… — Damion laughed bitterly.

— But I taught him well, didn’t I? — Casey laughed. — We’re basically surrounded by mercenaries. Except in the South… Nobody dares to mess with Josiah’s guys…

— Has Brock managed to get in touch with Josiah?

— Not yet. Josiah has been ignoring his calls. Byrd went there, though… He took his daughter with him…

— Bailey? — Damion asked with his eyebrows raised in question. — Oh, she’ll regret it…

— I wanted to be there just to see… — Casey laughs. — Do you think Moon lost control and hurt her?

— Well, probably not. It’s likely, however, that Gray prevented her from doing something she might later regret…

Casey nodded.

— Why did that old man go there?

— He’s very predictable. We knew he’d ask someone for help, we just didn’t expect it to be Josiah. He was embezzling money from the Sutherland company. And by now, everyone knows that his daughter hired a mercenary, an old friend, to kill your niece out of pure jealousy. Their image and reputation are gone… It’s beyond repair.

— And why hasn’t the council done anything yet? — Damion scratched his beard, feeling annoyed at the delay in solving the problem.

— Because his wife is a big fish. And that woman is-

Barlow interrupted them both, hiding his cold hands in his jacket pockets.

— I should start charging you, always coming in and out of my workplace…

— Yes, go ahead… You’ll be filthy rich in a week or two… — Damion replied.

— Or your pub will go up in flames… — added Casey.

— You both know that I have enough information to take you with me, right? — Barlow laughed. — Tyr just called me. He has some new information for us. He said to meet him in the Badlands…

— Now?

— Yes. — Barlows picks up the phone and shows the message.

But it wasn’t what they thought. Casey read the screen carefully.

— This is what I got, but it’s not him. We’re being watched. It’s a trap, but we have to bring him back…

— In the Badlands? — Damion asked. — Okay, let’s go. — he threw his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it, putting it out.

— Brock will meet us there… He said you know what’s there…

— Yeah, unfortunately. — Damion replied.

The three men got into Damion’s truck as he drove silently into the area.

The Ruby Lands spread out before his eyes like a purulent wound that seemed to pulsate with supernatural energy. To the untrained eye, it looked like nothing more than a strip of discolored earth, a stain on the landscape that spoke of dark and forgotten secrets.

It was a place where the veil between the living and the dead became thin, where restless spirits roamed the desolate landscape in search of redemption or revenge. The very air seemed to vibrate with a mysterious energy, carrying with it the faint smell of decay. And the silence, ah, the silence, was deafening in its intensity.

It was said that the Badlands were cursed by the sins of those who came before, cursed by the blood that had been spilled on their contaminated earth.

— Here we are. — Damion said, stopping the car in front of an old iron fence, barely holding the sign with his name on it. — Badlands. I still don’t know why they keep this place as it is…

— This matter has already been brought before the council. But the elders want to honor our ancestors for their bravery. — Casey replied. — I don’t agree, but… who am I to say anything?

— Remind me next time we have a meeting. This place has had enough… We should make the most of this land for the less privileged… This war is destroying our economy… The few who survived in Eldaria are asking for shelter not only here, but in other cities… Have you seen the number of homeless people who have gathered in the industrial area? It’s crazy! — Barlow said exasperated.

— I know. And so does Brock. But our top priority is to keep everyone alive, safe and get rid of Caelan. — Casey said as he took off his jacket and threw it in the back seat. — And from this moment on, we have to find Tyr.

Damion looked around the land, a large open place between the Thesrose forest and the Birside forest.

— I can’t feel it anywhere…

— Yeah, me neither… — Casey looked around. — That’s not a good sign… Especially if it’s Tyr we’re talking about…

The three men walked slowly to the fence, easily breaking the chains and stepping onto the abandoned area; the dark orange sandy soil beneath their feet soiled their shoes and pants, as well as raising the dust. The excruciating silence chilled the hairs on their bodies, as if an invisible being was silently shouting at them to stay outside.

The further the group walked into the area, the more uneasy they felt. A faint whistling sound caught their attention, causing them to stop midway, soon realizing that they no longer had the upper hand in the situation.

The mere thought of trying to save Tyr was replaced by an anxious feeling about what would come next.

— We fell exactly as they wanted, didn’t we? — Damion whispered, unmoving.

— I think so. — replied Barlow.

— That was kind of the plan, wasn’t it? Even if Tyr isn’t around, we can get some important information about… I don’t know, anything would help us now… — Casey hissed, rubbing his head angrily.

— That’s true. But we’re surrounded… We’ll be attacked to death… — Damion interrupted.

— People… I’m counting… thirty or more. We’re screwed. — Barlow looked around, several lupirrens approaching. — Damn, I hate violence… Even more in this form…

— We have to turn now… — growled Casey, his voice tense as his eyes scanned the surrounding wolves.

— If we don’t, we’re dead. — Barlow added, his tone somber and prepared for the inevitable fight.

— You’d think… — Casey laughed. — Dam, what’s the plan?

— Not to die… — Damion said through his teeth.

Damion clenched his fists and took a deep breath. The transformation always brought intense pain, as if his skin was being ripped off and replaced by something primitive, bestial. But there was no choice. The lupirrens were faster, stronger and, outnumbered, they would surely overwhelm the trio in a matter of seconds.

— Let’s get this over with. — Damion said, his body beginning to tremble at the proximity of the change.

He felt his bones stretch and his flesh twitch. The process was brutal, but also liberating. When the transformation was complete, he was no longer just human; he was a powerful creature, fierce and full of hatred for the threat before them.

Barlow and Casey also transformed, their bodies now shaped by the same savage energy. In their new form, the three friends were imposing, a mixture of strength and agility that few could face and survive.

The lupirrens advanced first, their claws glinting in the ruddy light of dusk. Damion was the first to move, attacking the nearest beast with brutal force. His claws sliced through the air and struck the creature’s flank, sending it reeling. But soon another leapt at him, digging its fangs into his shoulder. A roar of pain escaped Damion, but he didn’t give in. With a violent movement, he spun around and threw the wolf away.

Barlow was surrounded by three lupirrens, but he didn’t hesitate. His jaws closed around one of the creatures, the dry crack of broken bones echoing across the clearing. He kicked another creature that tried to approach from behind, but the third wolf’s claws dug into his flank, making him grunt in pain. Barlow didn’t allow himself to fall; instead, he grabbed his attacker’s neck and smashed him into the ground.

Casey, more agile than the other two, dodged the attacks with almost superhuman grace. Her claws tore one of the wolves in the chest, and she spun around quickly to avoid another attack from behind. It was a deadly dance of precision and strength. However, even with her skills, he didn’t come out unscathed. One of them managed to catch him off guard and ripped his leg open with a brutal bite. Casey screamed in pain, but didn’t hesitate to strike back, digging his claws deep into the creature’s throat.

The battlefield was in chaos.

The Badlands were once again living up to their name.

Howls of pain, growls and the sound of flesh being torn apart filled the air. The three friends fought with everything they had, but the numbers were overwhelming. For every wolf they took down, another seemed to emerge from the shadows. However, none of them gave up. They knew that if they stopped for a second, it would be the end.

Damion kicked one of the creatures, throwing it into a tree with such force that the trunk broke. He was panting, his body covered in wounds, but he was still standing. His fangs were dripping with blood, both his own and those of his enemies. Next to him, Barlow was bleeding from a deep cut on the side of his body, and Casey could barely support his weight on one leg.

“We’re almost there…”, Barlow growled, through the mental link with his friends, something possible between dynamis, wiping the blood from his eyes.

A few more lupirrens approached, but the three of them were determined to put an end to it. With one final thrust, they tore through the remaining enemies, leaving the field covered in bodies.

Finally, silence took over. Only the sound of Damion, Barlow and Casey’s heavy breathing broke through the air. The ground was soaked in blood, and the strong smell of battle filled their lungs. They were all badly wounded, but alive.

“There’s still one.”, Casey said, pointing with his chin at a figure that was crawling on the ground, moaning in pain.

He was a lupirren, but still retained human features in his form — an incomplete transformation. He was badly injured, with broken claws and a practically useless arm, but still alive.

Damion approached, his eyes fixed on the creature.

“He may have information about Caelan.”, he said, his voice hoarse from exertion.

Caelan, the name that haunted their thoughts, the one responsible for the chaos they now faced. Capturing someone who could provide clues about him was the only chance they had of gaining an advantage.

The heat of the transformation began to dissipate, giving way to tiredness, pain and the reality of their human bodies. The transformation always left them naked, stripped of their bestial skins and coats, as a brutal reminder of their condition.

Suddenly, the process began. The bones that had once widened and distorted began to shrink and readjust. The twisted muscles gave way, returning to their normal size. The claws retracted, giving way to human fingers again. The pain was intense, but they were used to it — it was the price of transformation.

Casey was the first to fall to his knees, gasping as he felt his body return to human form. His leg was broken and the cut was deep, sweat dripping down his now exposed skin. Her disheveled hair fell into her face, but her eyes held the ferocity of someone who had just fought for her life. She looked down at herself, covered in mud, blood and dirt, but relieved to be back.

Barlow, more resistant, stood for a few seconds before giving in too. His skin was marked by open wounds that now seemed even more painful with the lack of the thick skin he had as a creature. He wiped his sweaty face with his arm, trying to ignore the fact that he was naked and vulnerable in the midst of the chaotic scene.

Damion was last. His bones creaked as the process was completed, and soon he was back to his original form. He took a deep breath, his lungs burning as he felt the cool breeze of the Ruby Lands brush across his bare skin. The prisoner next to him, still in lupirren form, looked on with disdain, but also with a touch of fear in his eyes.

— Nothing like getting back to normal… — Casey said with a touch of dry humor, even though it was clear that everyone was uncomfortable and exhausted.

He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to protect himself from the cold breeze that cut through the field.

Barlow gave a low, husky laugh.

— We should have brought extra clothes.

Casey rolled his eyes, watching the horizon darken.

— First, we survived. Now we find something to wear.

— Now we tie him up… — Damion said, his tone implacable, despite the pain evident in his expression. — He’ll talk. Not even if we have to.

Barlow knelt down with difficulty, using a piece of makeshift rope to bind the creature’s hands. The lupirren groaned in pain, but didn't resist. He knew he was defeated. And soon, even he turned back.

— You… won’t… get anything from me… — the prisoner growled, his eyes glowing with a mixture of anger and fear.

Damion approached, kneeling beside him, his piercing eyes locked on him.

— We’ll get what we want. — he said, his voice low and threatening. — Or you’ll wish you’d died with your friends.

He swallowed dryly, his eyes blinking frantically. There was a tremor in his words, a hesitation that didn’t go unnoticed by Damion. He knew something. They just needed to push him in the right way.

Casey wiped the blood from his forehead with his forearm and stood up, breathing hard.

— Let’s take him back. We need to recover… and extract every piece of information he has on Caelan.

Barlow nodded, still clutching his wounded arm.

— We only have a short time. If Caelan finds out we’ve captured one of his people, he’ll come after us.

Damion lifted the prisoner with a sharp jerk.

— Then let him come. We're ready.

With the prisoner bound and wounded, the three of them began to move, heading out of the Badlands towards their refuge, certain that this battle was only the beginning of something much bigger.

And on the red horizon, the wind whistled, carrying with it the harbinger of war.