Chapter 2: Silver Stains of Blood

The cold night wind threaded its way through the forest, carrying the scent of damp earth as it brushed across Kalle’s brow. His gaze was fixed on the silver traces of blood on the ground, his brows furrowed, the echo of the black wolf’s recent roar still resounding in his mind. That low, guttural growl seemed etched deep into his soul, awakening in him a sense of threat he had never known before.

After the woman’s departure, Kalle stood alone in the woods, unmoving for a long while. His shoulder burned with pain, blood seeping through his clothing, but it was the questions in his heart that tormented him more than the wound itself.

What exactly was that creature? No ordinary wolf could possess such cunning and speed, nor could one possibly evade his arrows.

Kalle drew a deep breath and crouched over the bloodstains. He reached out, touching the blood with his fingertips—it was cold, with a strange, viscous texture. He brought his fingers to his nose and inhaled; a faint, sweet metallic tang spread, utterly different from the familiar feral scent of wolf’s blood.

This was unlike any beast he had ever encountered.

Wiping the blood from his fingers, Kalle pondered for a moment before deciding to follow the trail. The black wolf was wounded and could not have gone far. If he could find it, perhaps the mysteries behind these bizarre disappearances would finally be revealed.

But if that creature truly wasn’t a wolf… what awaited him at the end of this path?

Suppressing his doubts, Kalle gripped his dagger and slipped silently into the forest’s depths. The darkness grew heavier, the moonlight casting twisted shadows that writhed like ghostly hands. From time to time, the snap of dry branches echoed, as if warning him he was treading ever closer to danger’s abyss.

The blood trail beneath his feet appeared and vanished intermittently, as though deliberately leading him onward.

He did not know how long he walked before finally halting by a small stream. The water murmured, reflecting the bright moonlight in shimmering ripples. By the bank, the black wolf lay quietly, bent over its wound, licking it clean as blood bloomed in the water like a silver flower.

Kalle held his breath, hiding behind a sturdy oak, watching the wolf intently.

Suddenly, the black wolf stopped licking its wound and slowly raised its head. Its eyes, a deep, spectral blue, gazed directly at Kalle’s hiding place, as if it had sensed him all along.

A chill ran through Kalle; he realized his presence was exposed. He drew his dagger swiftly, every muscle taut, not daring to let down his guard.

But to his astonishment, the wolf did not attack. Instead, it backed away slowly, a complex emotion flickering in its eyes, as though struggling with itself.

Was it trying to leave?

Kalle was just about to give chase when a sharp horn’s call pierced the night, echoing through the entire forest. The sound was ancient and mournful, weighted with an indescribable oppression that made his heart tremble.

The black wolf jerked its head up at the sound, growled low, then turned and sprinted deeper into the forest’s darkness.

Kalle watched as the wolf vanished into the night, his confusion deepening.

What secrets were hidden in these woods?

He looked up at the sky. The horn’s call lingered, as if heralding the beginning of some ancient and mysterious rite.

Kalle knew this was far from over.

Morning, in the town.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the wooden cabin. Sitting at the edge of his bed, Kalle inspected the wound on his shoulder. The black wolf’s claw mark from the previous night had already scabbed over. The pain lingered, but at least the injury had not festered.

A knock sounded at the door. Kalle answered, and Reis entered hurriedly, his face etched with worry.

“Kalle, something’s happened!”

“What is it?” Kalle stood, quickly shrugging on his coat.

Reis, still catching his breath, said, “Alan… Alan went missing last night!”

Kalle started, his brows knitting sharply. “Alan? I saw him just yesterday, drinking at the tavern.”

“Yes, but when he was heading home in the middle of the night, he just vanished. His family searched everywhere, but he’s nowhere to be found,” Reis said in a low voice. “They only found a pool of blood outside his door.”

A heaviness settled in Kalle’s chest. The black wolf’s appearance last night and Alan’s disappearance seemed somehow connected.

“Come on, let’s go look.”

Kalle followed Reis swiftly to the center of town, where a crowd had already gathered outside Alan’s house. The townsfolk’s faces were anxious, their whispers tense.

On the ground, a pool of fresh blood stood out starkly. Beside it lay a broken dagger, a few strands of black wolf fur still clinging to its blade.

Kalle crouched down, studying the blood and fur closely. When his fingers brushed the strands, his heart skipped a beat—that peculiar, icy sensation was exactly the same as the blood trail from the night before.

“It was that creature again…”

Slowly, Kalle stood, his gaze sweeping solemnly over the townspeople. “Did anyone hear anything unusual last night?”

A long silence fell. At last, an elderly man spoke in a trembling voice, “I… I think I heard the sound of a horn in the distance…”

Kalle’s head snapped up. In that moment, everything became clear.

That was no ordinary horn—it was a summons.

Alan had not simply vanished. He had been taken.

Kalle clenched his fists, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes. He knew that to rescue Alan, he must find the black wolf—and uncover the secrets buried deep within the forest.

And this was only the prelude to the darkness about to unfold.