(Brimma POV)

  Brimma had seen many things in her long life.

  She’d faced down elder beasts, outlived would-be kings, and once stood before an elder vampire that had devoured its own bloodline to reach a pitiful mockery of godhood.

  Nothing, not even that ancient wretch, had prepared her for the sight unfolding before her now.

  Alistair.

  No, the thing that had been Alistair.

  She stood a dozen paces away, staff raised, spells burning along her tongue. Thessaly was still fighting, bloodied and stubborn, roots twisting desperately beneath her feet. Buddy limped, scorched and torn, but still trying to keep the Alpha’s attention.

  The Alpha was savage, near unstoppable now, but it wasn’t the most terrifying thing on the field anymore.

  Alistair had changed.

  She’d felt it the moment the air shifted, an ancient wrongness coiling around him like a second skin.

  And then the notification had flashed into her vision:

  [Bloodsong Triggered – Alistair Draven]

  Target has succumbed to the Bloodsong.

  ? Attack Speed ↑

  ? Damage ↑

  ? Spells and Abilities Disabled

  ? Mental State: Hostile / Predatory

  Brimma’s mouth had gone dry.

  She watched as the vampire staggered once, then straightened, a low, inhuman snarl twisting from his throat.

  His skin had paled further, chalk-white now, veined in dark, pulsing lines that snaked beneath the flesh. His eyes, once bright and sharp, now burned silver-red, glowing faintly in the dim light.

  Then came the worst part.

  With a ragged hiss, Alistair dropped his sword, let it fall like dead weight.

  His dagger followed.

  And before Brimma could even curse, his fingers flexed, elongated, joints cracking, claws tearing through leather and glove.

  Not clean, elegant claws, beast claws, blackened and jagged, made for tearing, not fighting.

  “Goddess preserve…” Brimma whispered.

  Kael’s voice shook from the ridge. “Is that, is that him?!”

  “No,” Brimma muttered. “Not right now.”

  Alistair moved. And the word ‘moved’ barely covered it.

  He blurred forward, faster than before, steps jerking unnaturally, like a marionette cut free of its strings.

  The Alpha met him mid-charge, claws wide.

  Alistair didn’t dodge. Didn’t weave.

  He slammed into the beast with both arms wide, claws raking vicious, wild arcs through fur and flesh.

  Blood sprayed in thick gouts.

  The Alpha roared, twisting, but Alistair was already climbing it like a predator, claws tearing open its back in savage, jerking strikes.

  Brimma raised her staff, mouth dry.

  “Thessaly,” she called low. “Hold the line.”

  Thessaly grunted, bloodied and swaying. “Trying.”

  Buddy growled beside her, smoke thin now, but he still stood ready.

  Kael shouted again. “He’ll kill it, but will he stop?!”

  Brimma clenched her teeth.

  “That’s the question.”

  On the field, Alistair was a blur of motion, more animal than man now. He bit once, bit, fangs sinking deep into the Alpha’s shoulder, tearing free a chunk of flesh before flinging it aside with a guttural snarl.

  Claws raked again, more blood, veins bursting dark beneath the Alpha’s skin.

  [Lycan Alpha – HP: 421 / 800]

  Bleeding – Severe

  Movement Impaired

  And still he fought.

  No stance. No form.

  Just pure, feral slaughter.

  Brimma’s hands shook on her staff.

  Bloodsong, she thought bitterly. She’d read of it, cursed blood, old and wild, a hunger older than the line of kings.

  "When it rises, there is no friend. No foe. Only prey."

  Thessaly’s ragged voice broke through:

  “If he, if he turns on us…”

  Brimma’s eyes narrowed. “Then we pray we can reach what’s left of him before it’s too late.”

  Alistair roared, a sound that wasn’t human, wasn’t vampire.

  Something older.

  Something worse.

  And the Alpha, blood pouring now, began to falter.

  But Brimma felt it in her bones.

  This fight wasn’t over.

  Not for any of them.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  The moment Alistair blurred past them, body twisted in a way no living man should move, she slammed her staff hard into the ground.

  “Thessaly back!” she snapped.

  Thessaly staggered, bloodied, one arm hanging limp. But her eyes stayed clear.

  Without argument, she retreated toward Brimma’s side.

  Kael scrambled down from his ridge, bow clutched in shaking hands.

  The three of them stood now, a ragged line, watching.

  And what they watched…

  Was no longer a vampire.

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  No longer Alistair.

  Something older had taken the reins.

  He was a blur of pale limbs and blood-slick claws now, no sword, no dagger. His fangs gleamed crimson, mouth slick with blood.

  The Alpha fought with desperate fury, but it was no longer a fight.

  It was a slaughter.

  Alistair slashed across its throat, then its belly, then bit deep into its shoulder, drinking with greedy pulls, crimson pouring down his chin.

  Kael’s voice cracked beside her. “Th-That’s... he’s... gods... he’s worse than the Alpha.”

  Brimma swallowed hard.

  He was.

  And the terrifying truth?

  He moved faster now. Wilder.

  Every hit from the Alpha missed, he jerked, twisted, blurred through every strike, responding with savage bursts.

  The pack’s mighty Alpha, once so terrifying, was now the prey.

  Buddy limped forward, smoke hissing through ragged breath.

  The hellhound growled low and tried to move beside its master, driven by the Collar’s compulsion.

  Protect.

  Defend.

  But Alistair turned sharp, eyes burning red-silver.

  He let out a guttural hiss, lips curling back, claws slashing wide.

  One strike caught Buddy across the muzzle, deep and brutal.

  The hellhound recoiled with a pained snarl, but did not flee.

  It circled low, unable to leave, shaking with confused instinct.

  Brimma’s heart twisted.

  Even Buddy wasn’t safe.

  “Kael,” she said low. “Steady.”

  Kael’s hands shook. “He... he’s going to turn on us... he’ll...”

  She reached out, gripped his arm hard. “Listen to me.”

  He gasped, eyes wide.

  Brimma’s voice stayed calm, steel-edged.

  “Our bond is still there. Yours too. He’s still him. Underneath.”

  “But...” Kael looked ready to bolt.

  “No.” Brimma’s grip tightened.

  “If we run, we die. If we stand, he may yet fight his way back.”

  She forced her voice calm even as her own heart pounded.

  She’d heard of this, [Bloodsong], but never seen it.

  Few lived to tell of it.

  On the field, Alistair tore into the Alpha’s chest now, hands buried deep, pulling bone and flesh apart.

  The beast howled, then choked, then faltered.

  Blood soaked the stone beneath them, black-red rivers pooling. And still Alistair drank, face a crimson mask, claws black with gore.

  Kael whimpered. “He... he’s gone.”

  Brimma forced her voice steady.

  “No. Not yet.”

  Not yet…

  But gods, she wasn’t sure anymore.

  The Alpha’s howls had turned to ragged gasps.

  Blood soaked the stone beneath it.

  Its once-proud form now sagged, ribs torn open, throat half-severed.

  One last shudder ran through its frame, then it stilled.

  [Lycan Alpha – Dead – Enemy Champion Eliminated]

  But Alistair did not stop.

  Brimma watched in horror as he tore another ragged chunk from the corpse, fangs bared, blood streaming down his chin.

  He crouched low now, all predator, claws sunk deep into the ruined chest.

  No prey left, she thought. And yet… he still hunts.

  Kael’s breath hitched. “He... it’s dead, he should sto...”

  “He won’t,” Brimma whispered.

  Not yet. Not while the Bloodsong ruled him.

  Buddy limped closer again compelled by the collar, by instinct.

  Smoke curled weakly from his battered maw.

  He whined once low and soft.

  Alistair’s head snapped around, eyes burning silver-red. He hissed, lips curled, claws raised.

  One brutal swipe lashed Buddy’s flank.

  The hellhound stumbled back, chest heaving, but still refused to flee.

  Fool creature, Brimma thought. But loyal.

  Kael was shaking hard now, knuckles white on his useless bow.

  “I... I can’t...”

  Brimma grabbed his arm again. “Hold steady.”

  “But he’ll turn on us!”

  “He might,” Brimma admitted softly. “But if we run, we’re prey. If we stand…”

  She swallowed. “We give him a chance to see us.”

  Thessaly stood beside her, swaying but unflinching.

  Blood ran down her bark-cracked arms, but her gaze never left Alistair.

  “Can he come back from this?” she asked quietly.

  Brimma forced her voice steady.

  “I don’t know.”

  On the field, Alistair rose slowly. Claws dripping red. Eyes glowing brighter now, no humanity in them.

  His head turned.

  Toward the companions.

  Toward them.

  Kael whimpered. “Gods...”

  “Quiet,” Brimma hissed. “Stand your ground.”

  Alistair took a step forward, predator-smooth.

  A low growl rumbled in his throat.

  Every movement coiled with dark strength, a vampire unbound.

  Brimma raised her staff, heart hammering.

  “Alistair,” she called, voice sharp as iron. “It’s over.”

  No response. Only that burning stare.

  Another step.

  Kael gasped. Thessaly tensed.

  Brimma stood tall, staff glowing faintly.

  Please, she thought. See us.

  But in those burning eyes, there was no leader.

  No man.

  Only the hunger.

  And it was coming closer.

  He came for them.

  One heartbeat he was still, next, a blur of pale death.

  Alistair launched forward, claws wide, eyes blazing silver-red, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat.

  “Move!” Brimma shouted.

  Thessaly reacted on pure instinct.

  [Nature’s Barrier – Activated]

  A wall of thorned roots burst upward between them, bristling, slowing the monster barreling toward them.

  Alistair hit it hard.

  The wall shook, roots snapping beneath savage strikes.

  But it bought them seconds.

  Kael leapt back, [Rootlash Leap] flaring beneath his boots.

  [Rootlash Leap – Activated]

  Twisting roots lashed up as he vaulted backward, slowing Alistair’s next step.

  Kael landed, arrow nocked but his hands trembled.

  “G-Gods, do I shoot?!”

  Brimma’s mind raced.

  Could we stop him? Could I?

  Her thoughts flicked to the one weapon she had left, her spider form. Fast. Deadly. Her only chance.

  And yet… even that wouldn’t be enough.

  She planted her staff instead.

  [Veil of Dread – Activated]

  A wave of shadow spread outward, Alistair hesitated for the barest moment, snarl twisting into a low growl.

  “Hold,” Brimma whispered. “Hold...”

  But Thessaly stood frozen. Her eyes wide, breath ragged, arms slack at her sides.

  “Thessaly!” Brimma barked.

  No response.

  The girl’s gaze stayed locked on him, on the monster that had been their leader.

  Kael’s voice broke. “He... he’ll kill us!”

  Brimma ground her teeth.

  “We stand. That’s all we can do.”

  Alistair’s snarl deepened, he shredded the last of the thorns, claws flashing.

  Then he lunged.

  Straight at her.

  Brimma’s breath caught, she barely had time to whisper the incantation.

  [Stonehide Bark – Activated]

  A thin layer of stone shimmered across her skin.

  Then claws hit.

  Pain tore through her world. Her frail form slammed into the ground, breath knocked out, ribs cracking.

  [HP: 8 / 130]

  Kael screamed. “BRIMMA!”

  The boy finally fired, an arrow flying true.

  [Target: Alistair Draven – HP: — ]

  Damage: Minimal.

  The shaft struck, then shattered against his side.

  Alistair barely twitched.

  He roared, towering over her now, face a mask of blood and fangs, claws raised.

  Brimma stared up, vision swimming.

  This is it, she thought coldly. I will die by the hands of the vampire I helped raise.

  Kael’s voice cracked. “Stop! Stop, damn you!”

  Thessaly still stood frozen, tears streaking her bloodied face.

  Above her, Alistair tensed.

  Then… he froze.

  Brimma’s heart stopped.

  His eyes flickered, silver-red warred with something darker.

  He cocked his head unnaturally, sharp and jerky, like a beast hearing something no one else could.

  Brimma dared not move. Not even blink.

  The red glow flickered again.

  Alistair’s breathing hitched, once, twice.

  Then, his eyes snapped clear.

  The silver-red bled away, leaving pale grey, wide and confused.

  He blinked, looking down at her, at the blood on his claws, at her battered body.

  “Brimma…?” His voice was raw, hoarse, himself again.

  Then the guilt hit.

  She saw it crash through his gaze like a tide.

  “No…” he whispered.

  Then his legs buckled.

  His body crumpled to the ground, breath ragged.

  The companions stood frozen.

  Brimma stared, aching, shaking.

  He’s back, she thought. But how long… until next time?

  And no one moved.

  Not yet.

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