Chapter 8 A Wolf With Human's Eyes

• “Do not leave my side,” the Duke murmured. His voice was low and firm, more a command than a request. I could feel the intensity of his words like a cold hand squeezing my spine. My heart pounded in my chest, my mouth suddenly dry. I nodded, swallowing my fear, and trailed closely behind him.
• We descended the narrow staircase, the dim light of torches casting long, wavering shadows on the damp stone walls. The air grew colder with every step, the smell of mildew mingling with something acrid and bitter. My hands brushed against the rough stones as I followed, and I could hear muffled cries from beyond the walls. As we moved deeper, the cries became clearer, filled with desperation and regret.
• “Please, Your Grace!” a woman’s voice called out. “I swear I’ll never do it again! I’m begging you!”
• I turned my head slightly, catching glimpses of hands gripping iron bars, faces pressed against the metal, eyes wide with terror. Men and women, young and old, all pleading for mercy.
• The Duke did not break his stride. “Those who go against the Church end here,” he said evenly, his voice cutting through the wails like a blade. “Also, those who commit treason against the realms… and those who harm us.”
• I shivered at his words, the cold air biting through my thin gown. “Shouldn’t they be given a chance for redemption?” I asked hesitantly, trying to match his pace.
• “Redemption is of the Lord,” the Duke replied, his tone unyielding. “And what the Lord commands, we will follow.”
• I said nothing more as he led me further down the corridor, past the cells and the anguished faces. The torchlight grew dimmer, and the sounds of pleading began to fade into a low murmur. The silence that followed felt heavy, almost suffocating. The Duke stopped in front of a large, iron door. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I felt the weight of his gaze.
• “Be prepared, Arabelle,” he whispered. “You are about to see the enemy.”
• I nodded, though my heart was racing in my chest. The Duke pushed open the door with a heavy creak, and we stepped into a room that felt colder than the rest. At first, it was too dark to see anything. I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. Then I saw them—a pair of eyes glowing red like embers in the dark.
• The eyes were filled with fury and hatred. My breath caught in my throat, and I took an involuntary step back. The creature, or whatever it was, snarled, the sound low and guttural. I could see the outline of its shape now—a wolf, but not just any wolf. Its fur was dark, almost black, and its features were distorted, half-mortal, half-beast. It was chained to the wall with heavy iron collars around its neck, its muscles straining against the bonds.
• The creature growled again, louder this time, a sound filled with pain and desperation. I felt a strange sensation—a whisper, a plea.
• I could have sworn I heard the words, *Help me,* echoing in my mind. I blinked, shaking my head, trying to clear the thought. How could a beast speak inside my mind?
• And then, before I could fully comprehend what was happening, the wolf began to shift. Its bones seemed to twist and crack under its skin, and its fur receded, leaving behind flesh. I gasped, unable to look away, as the creature transformed. Within moments, a man stood before us—naked, shivering, his skin marred by fresh, angry scars.
• I could not tear my eyes away from him. His face was pale, his dark hair tangled and wet with sweat. There was a wildness in his eyes, but also something… human. I felt a pang of pity then, a wave of empathy for this tortured soul. What had they done to him? Why was he here?
• The Duke’s hand tightened on my shoulder, pulling me back to the present. “This, my love, is what we are up against,” he said, his voice filled with a chilling calm. “They want to erase us from the surface of the earth, but we will not let them.”
• I turned my gaze back to the man, his breath ragged and shallow, his eyes still fixed on me.
• “What is he?” I asked, my voice a whisper.
• I had never seen anything like him, a creature that could change from wolf to man in the blink of an eye.
• “A werewolf,” the Duke answered, his tone sharp and disdainful. “They belong to the devil.”
• I felt a shiver run down my spine as I stared at the man—the werewolf. His red eyes were filled with an anger I could not understand, a fire that seemed to burn hotter the longer he looked at me. Suddenly, one of the guards approached, holding a long, thin stick that glowed with an eerie light. The guard touched the man with the stick, and he let out a scream, his body convulsing. His form shifted again, fur sprouting from his skin, his face elongating into a snout as he transformed back into a wolf. The growl that escaped his lips was filled with agony.
• I felt a wave of fear crash over me, so intense that I could hardly breathe. The Duke must have sensed it because he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer to him.
• “Come,” he said gently, though his grip was firm. “You’ve seen enough.”
• I glanced back at the werewolf one last time as we turned to leave. His red eyes were still fixed on me, filled with something I could not name. Was it hatred? Or perhaps… a plea?
• As we walked back through the cold, dark corridors, I felt a strange heaviness settle in my chest. I could not shake the image of those red eyes, the pain and desperation I had felt in that moment. What kind of creature was he truly? And why did I feel such pity for him?
• The Duke led me back up the stairs, his pace quick and purposeful. When we reached the top, the high priest was waiting for us, his expression grim. He glanced at me with a look that could only be described as pitiful before turning to the Duke.
• “Is she… alright?” the priest asked, his voice soft but cautious.
• The Duke nodded. “She has seen the enemy,” he replied, his tone firm. “She understands what we are up against.”
• The priest nodded slowly, but his eyes remained on me, as if searching for something.
• “Winifred,” he called over his shoulder. My maid, who had been waiting by the door, hurried forward.
• “Yes, Your Grace?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
• “Take Lady Arabelle back to the manor,” he instructed, not taking his eyes off me. “She needs rest.”
• Winifred nodded and took my arm gently, guiding me away from the Duke and the priest. As we walked down the long, dimly lit hallway, I could still feel the weight of their gaze on my back. I glanced at Winifred, who looked as nervous as I felt.
• “What… what did you see down there?” she asked quietly.
• I shook my head, unable to find the words.
• “I don’t know,” I whispered finally. “But whatever it was, I don’t think it was what they say it is.”
• Winifred looked at me with wide eyes, her brow furrowed in confusion, but she did not press further. We continued walking in silence, the echo of our footsteps the only sound in the darkened halls.
• I felt a strange, twisting sensation in my stomach, a mix of fear, confusion, and something else I could not name. The image of the werewolf, his red eyes filled with fury and pain, would not leave my mind. And the whisper, the voice in my head that had asked for help… Was it real? Or had my fear and imagination conjured it?
• As we stepped out into the cool night air, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I glanced back at the manor, its dark, towering silhouette looming over us like a silent sentinel. What was happening
• here? What secrets did these walls hold? And more importantly, what was the truth about the creature I had seen?