I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter Twelve: The First Shift
The day's final light faded slowly, melting into the darkness like ink bleeding into water. Shadows lengthened, merging and folding into one another as the forest swallowed us whole. We moved steadily forward, the three of us, venturing deeper into the woods where the trees grew thicker and the air hung heavy with damp moss and secrets.
At the front of our silent procession walked Emily, gliding between trunks and roots like she had grown from the forest itself. There was something ancient in the way she moved, something effortless and wild. Not a single branch snapped beneath her feet, not a leaf rustled. The woods seemed to recognize her, to make room for her passage. The trees bent just slightly in greeting. The wind brushed her cheek like an old friend.
Richard and I trailed behind, quieter than usual but far louder than her. Our boots crunched softly against a carpet of decaying leaves, stirring the earthy scent of wet soil and old bark. I felt the weight of the moment pressing in around us, carried in the hush of the undergrowth, in the distant stretch of night.
Eventually, the trees opened up, as if exhaling, and we stepped into a wide clearing bathed in the silver glow of the moon. It was beautiful in a stark, unreal way—silent and still, like time itself had stopped to watch. No birds flitted overhead. No insects buzzed. Not even the rustle of a curious animal in the brush. Just the cool silver of moonlight spilled across the ground and the sound of our own breath.
"This'll do," Emily said, her eyes scanning the perimeter. Her voice was quiet, but it carried. "I've made sure the local wildlife keeps its distance tonight."
That explained the silence. I hadn't realized it until she said it, but the forest's usual soundtrack—chirps, rustles, calls, distant cries—was absent. The entire world felt suspended, as though it were holding its breath.
I lifted my gaze upward.
The moon had risen high above the treetops. It was full—bright, round, and gleaming like a polished coin hanging in a sea of ink.
"Will it hurt?" I asked. My voice came out small, barely more than a whisper.
Emily turned her head and met my eyes. "Only the first time."
Richard stepped closer, laying a firm hand on my shoulder. His grip was steady and warm. "You'll lose consciousness as soon as it begins. The pain hits hard and fast. You won't remember most of it."
Emily cut him a sharp glance. "No."
Richard's expression darkened. "Emily, he's just a boy—"
"That's exactly why he has to endure it," she said, her tone calm but unyielding. "The more he stays aware, the more he'll understand. The stronger his bond with the wolf will be."
He looked like he wanted to argue again, but he held back. His jaw clenched, and he turned his gaze away.
I looked between the two of them, confused. "Bond with the wolf?"
Emily nodded, stepping closer. Her presence was grounding—solid, yet full of something untamed. "Most werewolves can only shift into a half-state—a creature caught between man and beast. But a rare few, the ones truly in tune with themselves, can also shift fully. Into a true wolf. Natural. Complete. Whole. It's not just about changing your body. It's about understanding the wolf within you, becoming one with it, and being in complete control. It's a mark of true harmony with your inner wolf."
Her eyes locked on mine—steady, unwavering, and ancient. "You get one chance at this. One first shift where you naturally turn to into a wolf. If you want to meet your wolf, truly meet him, you need to stay present. Stay conscious. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how badly you want to give in."
It was then that I understood what was really happening. Richard didn't want me to suffer—he wanted to protect me from the agony. But Emily... she didn't want me to miss something sacred, something that could never be reclaimed.
I nodded slowly. "I'll stay. I'll hold on. For as long as I can."
A small smile tugged at Emily's lips, pride flickering in her expression. Richard still looked uncertain, but he gave a curt nod. He didn't like it—but he respected my choice.
Above us, the moon continued to rise, higher and brighter, bathing the clearing in silver. I felt it before anything else—an invisible pressure, like hands pressing down on my chest, a heat beneath my skin that pulsed in rhythm with my heart.
Then, all at once, it struck.
Agony, pure and blinding.
I collapsed to my knees, air leaving my lungs in a ragged gasp. Pain seared through every part of me—white-hot fire racing through my veins, clawing at my insides. My bones groaned and cracked, reshaping themselves in unnatural ways. Muscles tore and reformed. Skin rippled, stretched, shifted. I screamed, though I barely heard it over the roar of my own blood.
It felt like my body was being taken apart and rebuilt from scratch. I was burning alive from the inside out.
Somewhere in that storm of pain, I remembered Emily's advice to hold on.
Don't fight it. I told myself.
Let the pain come. Let it pass through.
I opened myself to it, stopped resisting. The pain didn't lessen, but it became something I could ride, like a wave. I let go of the fear, the panic, and fell into the transformation.
Then—something changed.
Suddenly, I could feel the texture of the soil beneath my fingertips—or paws? Every leaf trembled like a whisper in my awareness. I could hear heartbeats—Richard's steady and strong, Emily's deep and deliberate. I could even feel the moon, somehow, like light humming along my bones.
And then I looked down.
Not hands. Not feet. Paws, covered in thick fur.
I stood up—on all fours. My body felt alien and familiar all at once. Powerful. Natural.
Not a mindless monster. Not some half-formed thing. Just... me. Fully transformed. Fully alive.
I turned my snout to the sky and let out a howl. It rose from somewhere deep within me—not a cry of pain, but a declaration. Of freedom. Of triumph. Of becoming.
Like a switch had been flipped, the world blinked out. The clearing. The moonlight. The wolf.
The last thing I heard before everything faded was Richard's voice, proud and distant, as though from across a great distance.