The Prologue..

There he stands on a cliff side, a figure wrapped up in bandages from head to toe, bearing no form of flesh or skin. His blood red cloak trails down his body to his mid calf, waving in the strength of the blistering wind. The wind whistling as it blows past his body, then whistling at a higher pitch as it cuts past a giant blade, which remained caught in the ground. The area is remote and dusty, showing no forms of life plant or animal. The view remaining closed upon canyons in the distance, a vast empty arid land. What on god’s green earth would bring someone to a place such as this? So alien, so lifeless, it’s a mystery how such a place could even exist.
Well, that’s my original thoughts anyway. Now I’m beginning to remember, I’m Angelus, a being far more powerful than you can imagine. My road lays before me, riddled in mysteries, filled with twists and turns and yet running so simple, so true. Sometimes I don’t even remember why I bothered to get myself into this mess. Who would have thought that doing something for the good of everyone would leave you being cursed? You would have thought that you would get something decent from doing that, but no, seems I am wrong. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself, so let’s start again.
I’m Angelus Kutona, a master blacksmith and craftsman; well I used to be anyway, before I got like this. I’m a lycan, you know, one of those guys that change between being a wolf, wolf man and a man? I guess you’d call me a werewolf, but I’m sad to inform you, werewolves don’t have control over themselves, I do. Yeah that definitely sets me aside from the pack, pretty much an outcast you’d think, some kind of weirdo. Well call me what you like, I’m proud of what I am and this, this is my story…

Chapter 1

I knew from the very beginning I was special. No I don’t mean like everyone is special in their own way or the special that your mother or father would say. I mean special, like I was a small key part in something so much bigger, so fantastic and brilliant… I just didn’t know how or what but something just told me so.
I was born on the 18th of April, on a rather oddly cold, dark day. I’ve been told I never cried that day, nor did I waver and move violently. Apparently I remained perfectly still, calm and collected, almost lifeless. Thinking about it now, lifeless was a really cold word to use, that hurts… oh sorry I’m going off topic again. Right, back to the story… I was a reasonably large child so I’ve heard, born heavy and quite strong. My father also joked that I had some kind of a death grip… yes this might sound cliché but he said that after I first grabbed his finger. For some odd reason, although I was extremely young, I can remember certain things
At first glance he was a tall, stocky man. When I say stocky he had muscle, not your little, defined muscle, I mean serious muscle. He was packed to the bone with it. Every square inch of him seemed to bulge out, causing his clothes to strain as they stuck tight to his skin. His face was long, a contrary to his broad build. Surprisingly, also in contrary, his face hid his age behind a youthful veil well, the skin was smooth, hairless, unwrinkled and held tight across his cheekbones. He didn’t really have much of a nose, it wasn’t broad like you’d expect from someone of such a stature. His eyes were a dark brown; their rich colour seemed to suit his non-kept, equally as dark hair. Although short, his hair was untamed, slandering and smearing across his forehead, the rest a shabby cut. Despite the look of his hair, he’s what I always considered to be a handsome man.
Then I turned to my mother, a sight that I’d always remember, despite how old I was. She seemed to radiate such beauty; it was almost unnatural and completely incomparable. She also, like my father had dark brown hair, gorgeous and long. It fell in ripples down to her mid back, the fringe slightly choppy, but yet kept as immaculate and beautiful as the rest. Her eyes, now they were something entirely different. They were an exquisite blue, deep in colour and sparkling like the thousands of stars that light up the night sky. They sat neatly into her rounded face, graced with skin which was both smooth and radiant. Her nose was small, leading down to red, sumptuous lips that were full and at that moment in time, plastered onto my cheek. She had a small frame, curved beautifully from head to foot, not an inch too big or an inch too small, perfect as my father would say.
It is sometimes a wonder to me, why my parents had even found love with one another. They were the complete opposites of each other, her small and thin whilst he was broad and tall. However, they did seem to show the same youthfulness and love in their eyes, something I have rarely seen in a couple, almost never.
Anyway, as time goes by, I began to resemble my parents more and more, becoming a complete mixture of the two of them. I was broad and tall, like my father, something I am extremely glad that I had inherited from him. I also gained the dark brown hair that seemed to be apparent in both of them; however, I had a lighter tint of hair at the front, running from the side, up the fringe and back down the other side, kind of framing my face. My face too was youthful and gifted with those exquisite eyes that my mother only so brilliantly possessed. Although, they weren’t really the best or most expected eyes to be seen on a guy, believe you me. Hmm, thinking about it, it was my looks that got me my name, I’ve often had the comment that I look like an angel, so Angelus really did seem like a fitting name I suppose.
I grew up in a village, not the largest of places, but yet something I could have never lived without. In those times, the village was my life; it contained everything I needed and was substantial, but not quite everything I wanted. Of course it had my family, I didn’t really have any friends and it not have a school – I was home taught. I learnt everything from my mother and father, oh and of course from the endless amount of books that they kept purchasing for me (yes I was a studious little nerd, and no I never would regret it). It shows today that I spent most of my childhood learning, reading everything I could and questioning anything that could be questioned. The other parts were simplistic and more family based.
My body developed at an alarming rate as I grew older, of course as this happened I helped my mother and father more and more throughout the house. We had originally started off small, but as we laboured and grew, so too did our home. It soon became a manor, roughly about the time that I reached sixteen; everything was made by us, and so when it was done, we appreciated it more than if it was made by someone else. My father sorted out anything that involved metalwork; my mother did the decorating and aesthetics of the house and I did all the gathering of materials and food. He was a blacksmith and my mother was excellent with craftsmanship, it just seemed natural that they did those jobs.
At that age I knew full well what was to become of me. I was to take my father’s job, becoming another blacksmith in the long line of blacksmiths that are my ancestors.
“We’re going to gather wood,” my father bellowed out as he began to move towards the door, me swiftly taking place at his side.
“Alright then, don’t take too long,” replied the gentle, soft voice that came from my mother.
Together we strode out of the manor and down the road, just me and my father, heading through the village and towards the woods. This was the first time I’d ever seen the village so alive, everyone raced backwards and forwards, almost pointlessly. The constant hum of their whispers echoed throughout the vast space that was our village. My eyes soon became sore after following the various patterns of peoples movement.
As we drew past the butchers’, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, something so beautiful, so pure. She stood there, by looks as young as I was. Her brown hair fell down to her shoulders, the fringe brushed to the side. Her rounded face was held up by a small frame and her blue eyes held me mesmerised as she smiled in my direction. My god, I thought I had finally seen a real angel, an angel of many mysteries and questions. Mainly those such as ‘who is this girl?’, ‘how can something so beautiful be a part of this village?’ and ‘are my eyes playing tricks on me?’
“Push your jaw back up and get a move on, you do have other times where you can stare at the girls!” My father yelled out to me. As he did I stared down at my feet, noticing they had unintentionally stopped moving. The heads turned too as they heard his demanding hoarse voice and their eyes rested upon me. A feeling of embarrassment ran over me and the realisation that I had gone red only too well sunk in. So to save myself further embarrassment I bounded over to join my father at his side, hatchets resting upon our shoulders, we made swift exit from the village…
Every step I took towards the woods made the distance look further and further away. There was something about them that just made shivers run down my spine. Maybe it was how they towered over you, creating shadowy fiends that spread their mighty talons across the floor or how even the slightest wind made the bark crack and produce an ominous creaking noise. I distinctly remember the smell to be earthy, as my foot squelched through the soaked mud the smell became more and more potent, as if trying to warn me away. Still, it was the only way to get wood and so it had to be done. I mean, it’s not like I was scared of the woods, come on, do be serious… I was just a little nervous when in them.
Finally, after what seemed a lifetime, we made it into the woods. Looking up I felt that I preferred it outside of the woods on the walk in; they were even more ominous when I got inside the place! Of course, the trees that grew on the outside were far too young and nowhere near strong enough for the kinds of tasks that we wanted them to do. No, we wanted the trees that grow in the middle of the woods. What I would have done for serious machinery back then… do you know how hard it is to cut down oak trees with just a hatchet? Its bloody murder! So, we carried on walking, this time any light that we previously had was completely lost, we were walking in the dark.
“Angelus, do you know what I do for a living?”
Oh no, here came the father son ‘you will fulfil the family legacy’ chat again.
“Of course, you’re a blacksmith,” I said solemnly, showing no enthusiasm to what the conversation would lead to.
“And it wi-“
“Will one day be my job, as it was yours when your father stopped, I know!” Cutting him off in mid sentence, the words seemed to just spit out of my mouth.
There was a movement in the trees, and then before I could look around, another sudden burst of movement on the other side of us, another and then another, this time I saw but a trail being left behind, as if it circled around us, some sort of twisted animal. I turned to look at my father, who as if knowing what I was about to say, replied,
“Lets just get the wood and leave…”

Chapter 2

We buried the hatchet into the tree as fast as possible. For us it was a race against time, we might have gotten into the woods slowly but we definitely weren’t going to get out of them slowly. That was the first time I had ever seen fear across my father’s face and I just wished it were the last. The lines began to form across his forehead; his eyes were wide and fixated upon the point where his hatchet would meet the tree. I could only dare to think that he was too afraid to move them from that point and I wanted for it deep within my heart to not be true. When the tree fell his hatchet remained to beat down furiously upon it. The look on his face drifted from the realms of fear and into one of sheer determination. He was a man on a mission, and his mission was to bring home some wood, alive. I was only too happy to compel to his desire, and we chopped and cut and hacked the tree in silence. Once the needed wood had been separated from the tree we ran, ran as fast as our legs could carry us. My heart beat furiously against my chest; my breath came out in wisps of white, hot smoke. I felt the searing pain as my legs refused to carry me, but relentlessly I surged forwards. As we raced on and our feat pounded the floor, producing a heavy thud similar to a beat of drums – buddum, buddum, buddum… dum. We had cleared the edge of the woods and reached back into the small amounts of light that shone upon the horizon, signalling the end of the day. I stopped to regain my breath, and turned to look at the ominous woodlands behind us. A lone ominous silhouette of a man stood, only just able to be made out from within the darkness of the trees, at the edge of the woods from whence we just came. Poised, he kept his gaze upon us, before slowly turning to retreat back into his woodland home.
The next few days saw the makings of an extension to the forge. The extension had to be large enough to become a storage facility, so that we could stockpile the different materials that we were going to use. Gradually; as the years went by, the extension became more and more complete, as did my training in forging and smelting, as well as my craftwork. I was now around the age of 18, and slowly drawing close to leaving home after so much time of practise in the forge. Little did I know, whilst I went out to gather materials for my parents and helped finish off the extension, they were, with the help of some of the village, making me a new home.
I placed the finishing touches to the storage compartment, setting up shelves along the walls and creating bases to put materials on top of. I stood their, sighing in disbelief at the end of my work, a large open space filled with lots of wooden features. The warm feeling of relief that came over me swelled up inside my body, you could not believe how happy I was that it was all over and I couldn’t wait to see the smile upon my parents faces when they got back.
“Hang on, where did they go to anyway?” I said to myself quietly, then turning my back so that I may enter the forge.
I admit, I didn’t get very far. Whilst walking towards the main hall from the forge they burst through the door, something I really wasn’t expecting. Before I knew it they had grabbed me, and not just my parents, half of the village. They carried me above their heads, and I distinctly remember one of them mumble to himself,
“Blimey he’s a heavy one isn’t he?”
They carried me out of the house and through the village, which seemed so much brighter today, I don’t know why. The sky was a cloudless bright blue, the glowing sun shining down its beautiful rays of golden light that bathed me in its warmth. The smell of cut grass seemed to waft over, drifting by with the very light breeze and the sound of birds could be heard all over. They had finally placed me down, in front of a building I had never seen before. It was carved out of solid oak, with darkened beams at every corner for support. It was evidently freshly cut wood and so a newly made building. I walked over to it, and let my fingers trail lightly down its surface, it had that certain warmth to it. I looked at the door and then hesitantly turned to face the crowd they nodded, as if expecting what I was about to ask. So I entered this new building, taking a look at the furnishings. The tables were made of a much darker wood, smooth to the touch and the grain still showing, same with the displays, the chairs and everything. Every last detail was hand made, in every room of the apparent home, and then I walked into the bedroom. On the bed lay something, bound in a leather casing with the initials inscribed upon it ‘A.K’. Angelus Kutona! I hurried over to it, letting my fingers gently slide across the surface before I slowly withdrew the belongings out from their cover. There sat, a line of chisels and tools, hammers, needles, bits and bobs, and finally… some beautifully made leather gloves, stitched tight across the seam and a light brown in colour. In a moment of pure excitement mixed with complete confusion I ran out of the house to see everyone. Before my mouth could even open my fathers hoarse voice said,
“It’s your new home”
I looked at him shocked, my jaw wide open. I could feel my eyes had begun to pop out as they strained against the muscles that formed the shocked expression on my face. I was taken aback and didn’t know what to say, I didn’t even know what to think. To push me more into this dumbstruck moment and to cause extreme embarrassment, she walked over to me. No not my mother, the girl with the pendant. Now up close I could see the fine red stone that lay within the golden rim of the dazzling piece of jewellery, but still it didn’t even hold a candles flame to the magnificent light that was her beauty. Before I knew it she had hugged me and I couldn’t control my arms, they just wound up around her. Her hair was soft as it pressed against my cheek, she smelt wonderful, beautiful in fact. I had never smelt anything like it in my life. As we pulled away I managed to sneak a look at her beautiful face as she beamed at me. Her eyes seemed to entice me more and more, I just couldn’t look away until she finally said in a quiet, fragile but yet soothing voice
“I’m going to be living next to you, in that house over there,” she indicated with her finger as she said this, and I nodded slightly to show that I understood.
“My names Cara by the way” she said in just the same voice, showing off that beautiful smile she possessed. However, when trying to offer my name in turn my jaw just quivered, it moved but no sound came out.
“I’m, I’m, I’m …”
“Angelus” interrupted my mother not just smiling but laughing away too. It had once again become apparent to me that my face had gone red and I flustered with embarrassment. My mouth clamped shut as I looked down, trying to avoid the gaze of everyone upon me before looking up and exclaiming in the loudest and proudest voice I could muster
“I guess we need to celebrate?”
The roar of applaud could be heard all over the village. There was song and dance, music, stories, and laughter. The whole village grouped up in the centre to enjoy a night of celebration, as was tradition for us to do whenever someone had come of age to start a new home and maybe one day a new family. The night’s celebration was especially large, not only because there were two of us starting new homes but because the baker and his wife had announced the arrival of a new baby girl.
We sung, danced, cheered and drank all night. Some of us drank a little more than we should have, first noticed when the baker himself couldn’t even stand on his own two feet without toppling over, which itself caused an uproar of laughter. I was gifted by the presence of Cara most of the night.
“Dance with me Angelus”
“What? But…” before I knew it she had taken me by the hand and led me towards the fire, I couldn’t really say no because she was smiling and it took away any power that I had to control myself. I don’t know how and I don’t know why but my feet had started to move as she and I progressed around the large central fire, basking in its heat. Everyone fell silent as they sat down and watched us move, her with grace and poise, me trying to my hardest to equal her talent which was no easy task, believe you me. Before long the silence fell into a quiet murmur, just quiet enough for them to avoid us hearing anything said but loud enough for us to know that they were saying something.
“Ignore them, just keep dancing” Cara said with such a convincing smile. I couldn’t help but smile back as I gazed into her eyes, the flickering flames mirrored in them. She looked even more amazing than usual. She wore an invigorating, cream coloured dress that hung just above her knees, giving her the full freedom to move about and dance. Her long, brown hair was let to flow loosely and freely as she moved, spiralling and twirling around her with every spin and quick footed movement. Her skin complexion magnified against the dress, she was truly a beautiful sight to behold. As the music began to come to an end, our hands began to lock, me facing her and her facing me. Whilst looking into her eyes we began to lean towards each other, our lips pursed as our faces drew closer and closer together…
The music came abruptly to a halt. Our heads tore apart instantaneously before they even met as the laughter and cheering became shouts and screams. The look of sheer horror struck both of our faces as we pulled away entirely, running in opposite directions frantically looking about. I snuck a last glance at her as she ran towards the edge of the village. I remained to try and find my mother and father. There it was, that trail of movement again, this time it was everywhere, grabbing innocent people.
I ran as fast as I could towards the manor, just hoping that my parents were there. When I finally arrived, I slammed open the door, almost tearing it from its hinges upon which it stood. I shouted out endlessly.
“Mum, Dad, are you here?”, “Mum where are you?”, “Are you there?” My frantic cries fell on deaf ears, no one replied. Still I continued my search, furiously trying to find them, I didn’t want to give up, I couldn’t. The wall came crashing through as I entered the hallway, my father flying through it. His body unmoving, covered in that red liquid, pouring out of large scratches, cuts and punctures. I ran over towards him and placed my arms heavily around his back and neck. I tried to raise his head up and wake him up, but all that was left of his once youthful face was gone, I only saw lifelessness, he never replied.
Fire had begun to erupt in the manor. I turned in an attempt to find my mother, tears streaming down my face. The wet salty taste was horrible. I remember it vividly, the prickling heat of the fire, the blistering of my skin. As I turned to find my mother, all I heard were screams as the shadow of a woman was being eaten alive by yet another shadow and then another, and another. There were too many of them, my body froze in place as I stared upon the carnage. I needed to run, but I couldn’t, the fear had taken all of my ability to move, leaving me a paralysed, sitting duck. Then the shadowy fiend stood up, it’s body turned to face me before I turned to see its owner. There he was the silhouette from the woods. He laughed slightly, looking directly at me. His voice was deep, deep but cold. It sent shivers down my spine and I began to shudder uncontrollably. He stepped towards me, the footsteps were light but yet they emanated strength, causing the floor to crack beneath him.
As he drew closer, I began to panic; I looked between my mother being eaten and my father’s dead corpse frantically, hoping for one of them to just grab me and wake me up from this nightmare I had been trapped in. I closed my eyes and just wished, hoped, wanted but his footsteps grew louder and louder, my head shaking as tears streamed down my face. I roared out in rage slamming my hands into the side of the table, throwing it over at the moving figure. This must have surprised him, as he had no time to dodge away from it; the table hit him sending him backwards and onto the floor. I didn’t need telling; I seized this opportunity to gather all my courage and strength and ran as fast as I could from the manor. I had managed to resist the fear and paralysis that had taken over me once before and ran towards my new home. It too was on fire, as was the rest of the village. I burst into it then, this time the door came off. I rushed in to grab my stuff, the toolkit, and then took one last look at the burning interior of the house. In less than a second I had burst back through where I had come from and started to run from the village, I never looked back. I ran into the distance, running as far from it as I could before I would collapse, I was sure I would collapse. Eventually, out of breath and with searing pain running through my whole body I had to stop. I stopped in a clearing just south of the woods, with a perfect view of the village; well it was perfect until tonight. Now all it showed was the destruction and glow of the burning village. Even here I could smell the thick black smoke, chewing away at all that we had to call home. It was thick and horrible, coming out in giant clouds that darkened the skyline and blotted out the stars on this already dark night. I could hear the flames crack, licking the wood and draining it of its beauty.
My eyes closed over…