The night fog of the Daemonwood stretched its wispy tendrils around the sickly yellow full moon. The howls of wolves amidst the din of battle and war cries broke the pristine, dark silence. The sound of three legs, and one flailing for traction crushed leaves under their treads.

"Stop, Dragan, stop... I... my leg..."

A man howled in pain and hunched over another whose shoulders could barely hold the frame of the first. His once clean leather armor bore horrid gashes from the talons of night stalkers. The man’s leg, once a pillar of muscle hung flaccidly behind him as the smaller man dragged him along. They both looked toward the horizon. The city was not too far.

"Breck," the smaller man said, hurriedly, "if we stop we won’t make it to the temple. I can’t do this on my own!"

"Then put me down... for a little while, at least."

Dragan, an acolyte at the temple to Agrela lurched forward and rested his hulking brother’s body onto a stern Oak. His breathing was erratic, and his fingers twitched uncontrollably. Dragan’s eyes darted from the city back to the direction from which they came.

He heard them, saw the faint glimmer of their glowing green eyes, smelled the stench of hunger in the air.

They were coming.

"Breck! Those... those things! They’re..."

The lame ranger looked up to his little brother. His eyes were half-glazed over from the pain in his leg. The creatures had gotten him good. They had bitten him. Time was running short for both of them.

"Werewolves, Dragan. They’re werewolves."

Breck’s calm demeanor only served to intensify Dragan’s already boundless anxiety. Dragan looked over his brother’s body. It had been ravaged much more than he thought. Deep crimson gashes oozed black ichor, and his chain greaves had been stripped away. Breck’s hair was all mangled, and his scabbard dangled from his belt on one taut piece of leather. And his eyes...

His eyes.

In the pale light of the moon and the stars, Breck’s eyes glowed a faint phosphorescent green. Terror gripped his brother.

"Get up! Get up!" he screamed at his brother as he latched onto Breck’s arm and tugged with all his might. "They can still save you at the temple! Agrela be merciful please get up!"

"No! No..." Breck said, again calm, but tempered with a slight shakiness in his voice. "They can’t save... me. Nothing..." He winced from pain as the clouds parted and moonlight shined directly on him.

"I-I’ll save you Breck, please just get up! I’m a healer, I think I can do it!"

"Noo!"

The ranger yelled out at his brother but it came out as a guttural snarl. Faster, faster the beast was taking over. Faster, faster, before he couldn’t speak any more; he had to say something.

"Please, Dragan, Take this sword." He extended Ironbreaker, the sword of their ancestors. "End it for me. Here. Now."