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_ Lykos _ Chapter 16 (Eclipse) Sponsored by Pockyking535

There was a mild, sweet chill in the air - like a late spring snow catching the blooming flowers off guard. It almost felt like a kind of cold that could be passed by, forgotten... but perhaps that was because Marco was numb. From head to toe, his fingers, everything felt numb. The only sensations that remained crisp seemed to be smell and hearing. He could hear water rushing moving near by, and in the distance a waterfall... but his pointed ears perked as he heard something else; footsteps.

The feet crunched down into the snow, step by step, coming closer. Marco tried to move, to react, but he couldn't... What little breath he had blew the snow forward and back, flakes sticking to his beard like dew on blades of grass. Only his nose and mouth were even uncovered. The cold snow was biting at the skin of his forehead, his arms. The footsteps continued to approach and Marco's heart raced. He could do nothing to respond, to react, to even call out. Whatever form was approaching stopped right next to Marco and crouched down.

"Alpha, I need you to focus on my voice. Follow them to this moment." A voice said. It was unfamiliar but comforting; confident, knowledgeable, almost melodic. Marco tried to do as the voice said, breathing in and out more, trying to summon his strength. His fingers twitched and dug into the snow. Again the voice spoke, "That's it, keep coming, reach out to me."

Marco growled, his fingernails stretching into claws, giving him a better grip. As his wolf metabolism reasserted itself, the snow flakes melted from his skin. Marco pushed himself up, slowly, feeling incredibly dizzy. His eyes flashed from brown to yellow to red to turquoise and then back to yellow. He tried not to fall over as his gaze moved across the snow bank to a languid river - or at least what he thought was a river. The water reflected more stars than Marco had ever seen before.

His eyes followed the water to a cliff in the distance, but the horizon beyond was unfamiliar and impossible. The distant land below the cliff was full of crashed, disconnected and leaning skyscrapers ravaged by the passage of time. Nature had tried to reassert itself with vines and moss and plants in the most precarious of places, but still the leaning angles of mankind's creation stretched up and up into a daytime sky so full of stars that the sun could not blot them out, nor the three moons that hung in the sky.

Marco started to tremble as he looked up at the alien, impossible sky. The three moons were each different in their phase, but their size and features were exactly the same. There was a crescent moon, an eclipsed moon and a full moon. Each seemed to hold position over an equal third of the sky. Marco's heart started to skip several beats as he reeled from the unexpected surprise.

A young man moved in to his field of vision, crouching before him. He seemed well tanned with curly brown hair, his eyes the color of fresh green grass. Marco thought at first he was wearing a grey tunic with ceramic wolf clasps and a belt, but his clothes seemed to twitch and flicker, becoming a grey t-shirt with a black long sleeve shirt beneath and khaki pants.

"Stay with me Alpha, you need to find your footing." The young man said. Marco cursed under his breath and closed his eyes, though he felt a hot wetness starting to leak from his nose. A blood vessel had burst. He brought his hand up to block it, though his senses filled with the hot coppery scent of blood that stimulated the more primal parts of his mind.

"My name is Marco." The Hawaiian werewolf growled. The young man let a soft melodic laugh escape his lips.

"And mine is Nyctimus, though you can call me Nyk if you like." He replied. Marco felt a tingle climb up his spine. There was some vague memory, some story Ren had shared with them in one of their lessons. It was part of ancient werewolf legend. After a moment it sprung back as if he had studied for a final exam.

"The first keeper..." Marco murmured. Nyctimus smiled at that.

"And if you'll let me, I want to help you find your way back home, but to do that we have to figure out how you got here, what happened after you entered the portal." Nyctimus said. Marco winced more, the numbness of his body flashing with pain. Marco grunted as a gash opened up across his stomach, as if his flesh was remembering it had been wounded.

"It hurts..." Marco moaned. Nyctimus reached out and caressed Marco's cheek. "I know it does, but we'll start slow. I need you to focus on my voice and follow it to where I am, to where we are between the moments. When you open your eyes, don't look far away. Look right here, right now." Nyctimus explained. Marco was hesitant but he slowly opened his eyes again. Once more they seemed uncertain of what color to be, flashing between the various shades before settling on brown.

Marco looked at Nyctimus, but something was off. Even as close as he was, there was some sort of distortion. Marco nearly went cross eyed trying to see it, but as his eyes focused he saw paper thin sheets of ice suspended in the air... Shards, broken shards as if he'd fallen through an ice sheet and sent them in every direction. Each was filled with a reflection, but none of the images were of his face in that moment.

Once more the werewolf inhaled sharply, feeling his heart race as he struggled to adapt. His eyes darted from shard to shard. He saw Udo looking into a mirror with turquoise eyes. Another fragment showed Yom losing himself to darkness in an alley. He saw a Japanese boy alone and solemn on a mountain, as well as the werewolf he had met delivering Seamus to his new pack, Drake. All around them were moments frozen in time. There were friends, loved ones, strangers. Direwolves on the streets, ancient Rome, events spanning all of time.

"I don't think I call this slow..." Marco growled, a scratch forming in the tip of his pointed ear. Nyctimus nodded.

"I know, but let's pick one... Let's pick the moment you found the portal to the other side." Nyctimus said. Marco looked around before he found it and instantly felt sick to his stomach. The image was grey, colorless, all the life having been drained from that portion of the forest... That memory started coming back to him at once.

[April 4th, 2015]

Death had never been so tangible as it was in the decaying heart of the forest running along Grand Mesa, Colorado. All traces of life had been drawn out of the plants and animals around the swirling blood red vortex of energy spiraling around like a well of pain and misery. The fallen logs had crumbled into dust just like the bones of the fallen werewolves and direwolves that had been rooted to the spot. The entire area had been rendered desolate and dry like an anti-oasis, barren save for two individuals.

Rayne Fletcher's body stood in the midst of the devastation, dust clinging to his long sleeved t-shirt and his blood stained jeans, the tread on his tennis shoes worn down by the walk out to such a remote location. Near by, Ethan Haddix stood with his weight shifted to one side. His eyes were blood shot, his dark chocolate skin looking grayer and his skin more sallow. Being near the portal was draining him steadily. The keeper glanced up at the gigantic red direwolf sitting at the edge of the portal's area of effect, resting in the last of the greenery, watching those that dared to get closer.

"It's alright Silas..." Ethan murmured out of habit, trying to reassure the creature. It would have been a peaceful morning if it had been any other day, but the morning dew had never fallen. The dark spirit possessing Rayne Fletcher had his head inclined toward the sky, feeling the hot, dry wind passing over the fair flesh. He slowly opened his eyes, though they were as dark as night all the way across.

"He's right, Silas. Everything's going to be much better soon." Demeas replied with Rayne's voice.

"All this time, I still don't know your plan... or how it's going to be better." Ethan murmured, looking at the one he had sworn to serve for the remote chance of resurrecting his brother. Demas looked over at the keeper and gestured to one of the trees on the edge of the barren ground. Spotting it, Ethan hobbled over and sat down, feeling relief to sit among the living plants.

"It took me centuries to figure it all out... But once I died and wound up with my brothers in that limbo, it came to me pretty naturally. My life was just as much at the mercy of that curse as the day I turned into a beast. At first, the curse was adaptable... Lycaon committed ultimate sin with our help and the curse turned my family into animals, into ruthless beasts. Little by little, Nyctimus brought us back from the brink. The more we acted like humans, the more human we became... but even walking in the light, even doing everything perfectly, once a month the gods punished us by reverting us to our animal form." Demeas murmured, his eyes reflecting the glint of the swirling vortex of energy before him.

"The reminder..." Ethan murmured, recalling the stories handed down from generation to generation among the keepers. He leaned against the tree stump for support as he continued to listen. Demeas slowly started moving toward the portal, holding Fletcher's hands out as if warming them over a fire.

"An archaic punishment from foolish 'gods' that had taken it upon themselves to mediate the day to day affairs of the mere mortals that walked around their feet... But as our society aged and began to decay from its own over-ambition, as humans moved away from their traditions, the gods left." Demas murmured bitterly.

"You lived long enough to... see the separation of worlds?" Ethan asked in surprise, leaning forward. Demeas chuckled and nodded slowly.

"Oh yes. Rome had burned, the gods were gone... and there we were. Our remaining brothers and those we had brought into the fold. Nyctimus and his precious grandson Geleon trying to help us, to save us... Those were dark times for us all, and in that darkness they learned that these wolves still had claws." Demeas growled, his eyes still as black as night.

"And that's when... the fang clan was born? When the direwolves came into being?" Ethan asked. Demeas cackled a bit.

"It was a glitch, an aberration of the curse. Without the gods there to update it, it was trying to operate just as it had during Nyctimus' golden age. The well behaved wolves he had brought up couldn't possibly do anything so dark as murder innocents to survive, so they died... and the direwolves rose in their place, but without souls they couldn't survive for very long. When they withered away into lifeless husks, the human was giving another chance at life, resurrected just like Nyctimus was. Death, over and over again."

"But what you're saying... All of this, the way we've been living for thousands of years-" Ethan was interrupted.

"A mistake. Magic going off the rails." Demeas replied.

"Then what are you trying to do? What is all this? How is this going to get my brother back?!" Ethan exclaimed. Demeas' slow and wicked grin crossed over Fletcher's lips, black eyes watching the dark keeper. The spirit of the werewolf searched the mind of the boy he inhabited, looking for just the right words.

"The curse is out of date, old software... We're about to connect to the source and the curse is going to get updated for thousands of years of werewolf culture. The gods that abandoned us are all about fair play. The weak, pathetic claw clan are going to get their wish and live harmoniously with humans... and my true family, my dark wolves, are going to get to be the beasts they are meant to be." Demeas whispered, looking into the heart of the vortex with great anticipation.

In the midst of the pooling energy, there were glimpses of something on the other side... It was a sky dotted with stars and two moons. While the morning sun rose in Colorado, it was setting on the other side. Demeas felt Fletcher's heart race in the borrowed human's chest. After so long, everything was finally coming together.

"Fletcher!" Marco's voice was booming and demonstrative. Demeas turned on his heels, a strange, wicked grin crossing his lips as he watched Yom and Udo emerge from the brush behind their alpha. Their eyes darted around, spotting Ethan and the red direwolf near his master. Fletcher licked his bottom lip slowly.

"It's about time you found me, lover..." Demeas called out.

"Cut the crap... We've been putting together what's going on. I know Fletcher isn't the one in control." Marco replied. Fletcher clicked several times with his tongue.

"I can't exactly give you any points for that though, it's already too late... The eclipse is rising. You can feel it, can't you? The Earth is blocking out the moon and the curse is weakening. All that strength you have gotten used to draining away... Before long even a puppy's going to have more bite than you." Demeas smirked.

Marco glanced over at Udo and sure enough he seemed to be weakening. His skin was pale, his eyes seemed bluer than ever before and his shoulders were slumped. It pained Marco to see his beta in that way, but they had to stick to the plan - even if it had been hastily forged. Marco's hand drifted briefly to the lump beneath his shirt, the moonstone that Yom's father had given him. Every full moon he'd been charging it up and he could feel it sharing its bounty.

"Your words are hollow. We're going to save Fletcher and stop whatever this is, and no amount of words can disuade us." Marco replied. Demeas chuckled.

"Then why use words? Silas, fetch." Demeas ordered. The word cut through Marco. He thought Silas had died. He had mourned, he had struggled with holding on, but here he was... as a direwolf. Marco's shock gave the beast an opening and it charged at the weakened pack, but before it could lunge there was a burst of light from the ground, then trees around the dying clearing.

Auel had opened up fire with his cross bow, covered in fresh face paint and his hair done up. Demeas had wanted to gloat, but even more than that he had needed to buy time. The portal hadn't settled in on where he needed it to be, but things had turned against him. The encounter was no longer in his favor. Demeas turned Fletcher toward the portal and broke into a sprint. Ethan gasped at the change in plans, even more so as the wolves advanced.

Demeas ran over the boundary of the portal, falling through as if he'd found a rabbit hold to another world. The glittering image that had been forming was shattered into a whirling chaotic mess of twigs and branches. Ethan tried to get in the way, to protect his dark master, to preserve what little of the plan was left but Marco caught the keeper with an arm to the chest and sent him flying back.

Ethan landed with a heavy thump and skidded, passing out cold. The life drained from him to make the portal had sapped at every ounce of vitality he had left. Marco gave him one quick glance, but whatever fate waited for Ethan, he had earned it. Marco moved to the edge of the portal and looked down, taking a breath before jumping in - though he didn't have the chance.

A mass of fur and wrath tackled him from behind and Marco fell through the portal, tangling and wrestling with Silas. Their fall was short lived as they were slapped and cut with thick branches, landing in a sickly warm mud. Silas writhed and shuddered, his form seeming to convulse. His human proportions were reasserting themselves, though many aspects of the wolf remained; Silas' biceps and triceps were covered in fur, his hands remained as paws but his muzzle pulled back into his face to leave him mostly human.

The forced transformation seemed to leave Silas stunned, and against his better judgment Marco punched his former friend in the face, knocking him out cold. Silas crumpled to the ground in a muddy, furry heap. Marco slowly pushed himself up, looking around. He knew this place, intimately. It was the foggy forest from his dreams, the recurring dreams. There was a shudder and a thud as Yom and Udo landed behind him, then Auel. Marco looked up at the portal above them, continuing to move, traveling through the forest faster than they could follow. It zoomed across the heavens before disappearing from sight.

"Are you alright Marco?" Udo asked softly. Marco nodded gently.

"The big question is if you're alright..." Marco murmured. Udo still looked a bit sickly but nodded. Yom, however, looked downright pissed off.

"I can still feel the eclipse here..." Yom murmured, having wished for some relief. Marco shook his head.

"Maybe it's time... I don't think Abel pictured for you to use it like this, but Ren gave it to us for a reason." Marco said, reaching into his pocket, withdrawing a glass vial of red powder. Yom growled, showing off his fangs.

"Not yet, I still need my wolf... Plus there's no guarantee that turning off my powers with that is going to be any different than the eclipse doing it." Yom murmured. Marco seemed to consider before acquiescing.

"I feel like this wasn't his plan, this isn't where he wanted to be. We might have a chance to find him before he does whatever he's going to do." Marco said.

"This... is your dream, isn't it?" Udo asked softly, looking around. The tree trunks and branches were almost the same thickness around them. They spread all over and around like the ribs of some serpentine monster, keeping them trapped inside while the fog billowed and rolled just beyond. Marco slowly turned to look at Auel.

"It is, and it's making more sense to me now. I know we're going to get ambushed at some point." Marco said. Auel smirked a bit.

"Well, why wait around for an ambush? At least we can make up some ground while we wait." He offered. Marco shook his head a bit and closed his eyes, sniffing at the air, trying to get a bearing. While faint, he got a whiff of Fletcher's scent, though it was a bit different. It was spicier and muskier, with Silas' scent all over it. Marco tried to keep his stomach from turning as he followed after it. His pack fell into step behind him with Auel bringing up the rear, though Yom gave the hunter looks every so often, making sure he wasn't going to stab them in the back.

---

The ice shard floating before Marco's face began to drip before it melted entirely, the water falling to the ground below. It cut through the snow with amazing speed, revealing a small patch of dew covered spring grass beneath. Marco panted slowly, still feeling sick and disoriented, but more empowered at the same time. Nyk crouched next to him, giving the werewolf a soft smile.

"And with that your pack was here on the other side." Nyctimus recounted.

"I still don't know where here is." Marco murmured, looking up and around despite the strain it would put on him. Nyctimus followed his gaze.

"This is another dimension, another realm. It's a limbo of sorts, where the forgotten ideas go... and where those whose time has passed sit in wait." Nyk explained.

"So it's like a spirit realm? You're a ghost, with unfinished business?" Marco asked. Nyctimus smiled a bit at the concept.

"A little bit, but right now I'm trying to help shepherd you back to where you belong. Now Marco, you were on this side, traveling through the wilderness, trying to find Demeas..." Nyctimus trailed off. Marco, though, shook his head.

"I wasn't looking for Demeas, not at that moment. I'd been dreaming of that forest for months. I was waiting for the moment my dreams had been preparing me for all that time." Marco said, finding the right floating piece of ice, reflecting the dream that had found him so many times.

---

Dead, desiccated leaves crunched beneath the feet of the weary travelers, though the sound was muffled by the encroaching fog. The leaves should have had vibrant color in all shades of red and yellow and orange, but the eerie blue light behind the fog threw everything off. Ice crystals hung to the tree trunks like tiny tears, glinting in the surreal light and the only movement came from those venturing deeper and deeper into the darkness.

The adrenaline coursing through Marco's veins hadn't been enough to keep his focus. He knew he had to find Fletch, he knew there were threats out there, but it was becoming harder and harder to think. It was just like in his dreams. He had hoped when the actual moment came he would have some new insight, he'd be more prepared - though he was prepared for one thing. Marco glanced over his shoulder, back at Auel. When Marco stopped, Udo bumped into him.

"Marco, are you alright?" Udo asked. Marco didn't respond, looking at Auel. His hair was back in his top knot, his bangs down on either side of his face, the purple pigment spread across his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Even his clothes were different, clad with leather and vinyl, clips and clasps and tools... the tools of a hunter. It was more than he had entered the portal with.

"Marco, what is it?" Udo asked. Udo's clothes were different, airy and loose. He was wearing a sky blue long sleeve t-shirt, the sleeves hanging down past his hands. Marco turned, looking at Yom next, not sure what to expect... but there he was. Artyom's hair had been worked into tight braids, almost corn rows. His clothes were different. He was in his dream and he wasn't sure how they'd gotten from point A to B.

"I don't even know where I am..." Marco said softly, "I feel like I'm sinking in quicksand." It was true, but it was all mental. Yom reached out and put a hand on Marco's shoulder.

"It's going to be alright... Or you wouldn't be seeing any of this at all." Yom said with a soft smile. Marco looked at him quizzically before realization started to settle in.

"You have to have a future to dream it." Marco whispered, stealing the words he knew Yom would have said. He looked at Udo and then at Yom, realizing the only discrepancy was their eyes, they weren't that strange and unusual color from his dreams yet. They were off track, out of step, and it was his job to get them back there. Marco took a breath before he nodded, "Alright, we need to focus. Whatever this place is, it's messing with our senses... Our thoughts and beliefs seem to be manifesting in one way or another. We're going to make it easier on ourselves. We're going to find Fletch, we're going to save him, and we're going to do it before the eclipse hits its zenith." Marco said. His sudden decisiveness seemed to resonate, making Udo and Yom smile more. Marco moved up and reached to caress Udo's cheek.

"Yes Alpha." Udo replied, remembering when he was half frozen to death in a mall parking lot, when he'd thought Marco was gone forever, when he'd fantasized about changing the fabric of time itself so he'd been with his alpha that much longer. It was more than love, it was respect, it was need, it was purpose. Udo breathed in and felt the wolf stirring in his chest, in his limbs. The fog around them felt like less of an obstacle, and the blue light behind the fog was nothing compared to the intense turquoise pigment asserting itself in Udo's eyes.

Yom, too, was feeling the strength inside his chest asserting itself. He'd come so far in just a few months, from a lackey to a part of something greater. He'd been a direwolf but saved before it was too late. He'd reached a different spot with his family, turned his back on entrenched werewolf dynamics and made the world a better place. Now it was time to save one of their own.

Seeing his pack mates regain their confidence, Marco grinned too. He could feel the werewolf inside him, part of him, his very soul itself. It was all one and the same, and the eclipse couldn't take that away from them. Marco's eyes blinked shut and when they opened they were that rich, vibrant turquoise as well. All three had reached something higher, something better, and Auel could recognize it. This was why so many werewolves were dreaming of this particular Alpha. He was something new.

"Let's go." Marco's order was decisive and quick. They turned and broke into a sprint, picking up cues they had been missing before; broken twigs, tracks, and a faint scent... The werewolves were in pursuit, running through the trees, feeling twigs break against their bodies and the hunter was left to keep up, running after them. Yom felt exhilarated by it all, experiencing his abilities while still in human form.

They could sense movement, more and more of it. The temperature was increasing as well, the fog feeling more like steam. Humid, warm, tropical. Even the trees were changing, species from more tropical climates dominating the landscape more and more. The moonlight glistened off of pools of water in ever more frequent ponds. The air was smelling more and more like a salty marsh or a swamp. Marco glanced over his shoulder and saw Auel's bow drawn, the string pulling back.

This was the moment from all of his dreams, the recurring figment. For a split second he felt the sting of betrayal, but it wasn't that. Auel had told them that he wasn't aiming for Marco. Marco had faith and as Auel let his arrow fly, Marco spun around. The facial hair on his cheeks thickened into fur, his fingernails thickened into sharp claws, his teeth erupted into fangs and his nose wrinkled up as he snarled. The arrow sailed over his shoulder and struck an inky black shadowy form that had lunged from the trees. Marco grabbed the form with his claws and used its own momentum to toss it. The creature landed on the ground, skidded, and dissolved into shadow once more. Marco panted, knowing they had just started the final battle and moved beyond any premonition he'd been given.

"Over there!" Udo shouted. Two more shades leapt from branches and Yom roared, trying to redirect them, slashing at them as his wolf pushed out more. Auel continued to fire his arrows, but Marco felt their quarry slipping away, it was a diversion. "We have to leave them behind, we can't afford the time!" Marco exclaimed. Yom knew Udo could keep up, but he glared at the human. Dodging the slashing swipe of another shade, he moved over and grabbed Auel.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Auel asked.

"Hold on. If you fall off, I'm not coming back for you." Yom replied. Auel grimaced, though the russian had at least given him an explanation. Auel tried to secure his bow to his back before wrapping his limbs around Yom. Marco and Udo broke back into the sprint, dodging the advancing enemies while Yom tried to make up lost ground. No longer being thinned out, their aggressors fell onto the path and began chasing after them in ever growing number.

---

Each step was becoming harder for Demeas as he approached his goal. He could hear the ocean waves in the distance, he could feel the swamp water getting thicker around his feet, or rather Fletcher's. Fletch's body was rigid, almost fighting the spirit that had filled it so completely. Demeas after-image flickered and shuddered around Rayne like a nightmare, but he settled back into his new home and Fletch's eyes filled solid black once more. Demeas brought a hand up Fletch's abdomen, teasing at his nipple, trying to get the human to comply just a bit more.

"Human, you don't have to worry, your part in this is almost done... Can't you feel it around us? After being a prisoner here for so long as just a spirit, I'm here with a real body. The curse is recognizing me as a living being again, it's having to adjust and compensate, and it's reaching out into your world again. Ancient magic with a true purpose." Demeas grinned, though he suddenly growled as one of his eyes returned to a honey brown and the corner of his mouth twisted into a frown.

"I can feel them, all of them... I can feel the direwolves you're calling out to. It isn't just Silas. Across the world, what are you doing? What are you really doing?" Fletch demanded. Demeas moaned slowly, walking deeper into the swamp water, back toward his place.

"Nyctimus wolves are cowering right now, preparing to be powerless. They've tried so hard to be good, to be docile, to be human, and they are getting their wish. Between the eclipse itself and their pacifistic delusion, they aren't going to be wolves anymore... But my brothers? The dark wolves? Tattered souls and brutalized bodies are reconnecting again. You don't have to be happy with who you are to recognize yourself. There's no more need for the death and rebirth. They're all my brothers, my monsters, my pack... and they don't need to live in secret any more... Can you feel it Rayne? In schools, in bars, in plazas and parks, my wolves are waking up for who they really are." Demeas moaned, a drop of drool rolling down his cheek. Fletch shuddered, trying not to feel it - but he could. Hundreds, thousands of werewolves waking up in the light of day and in the dark of night, empowered by the unity of their two halves for the first time since they became what they were, no longer punished for the discrepancy. It was terrifying and amazing all at the same time.

---

The once frozen tundra Marco and Nyctimus rested on was half uncovered, patches of snow missing like potholes. The shards were thinning out as the story unfolded, and Marco was getting more and more of a bearing on what had happened, how he had gotten to where he was. He opened his eyes and looked up; not at the pieces of ice showing his own memories, but those of others.

"His influence reached out into the real world... The direwolves had been different for a few months, but now they were all acting on their alpha's whims, his vendettas. Helpless werewolves were attacked worldwide, the secret that had been kept for thousands of years was shattered, and even the keepers were targeted. Milan, Sarajevo, even the Japanese sanctum." Marco murmured.

"But how did that relate to you? How did you learn? What was that moment?" Nyctimus asked, trying to keep Marco rooted to his timeline, to where he had been and where he was going.

"He was relishing in it when we found him..." Marco whispered.

---

Rayne Fletcher's body stood waist deep in the swamp water, his hands resting on the surface, his head tipped back and his eyes shut. He was naked, his skin perfectly toned. The sky seemed uncertain of itself, showing the sun and the moon at the same time. As ripples traveled out from the slightest movements of Fletch's fingers, there were faint afterimages of things going on. Direwolves running through the streets, overturning cars, attacking enclaves of wolves and keepers. Demeas felt such joy in it all, though even his human ear quirked a bit as he heard movement.

"My minions didn't slow you down much, did they?" Demeas asked softly.

"What can I say, I had a date." Marco murmured, moving toward the water. Demeas grinned with Fletcher's mouth.

"It was just enough though..." He commented, watching as Yom and Udo tried to follow, though they both stumbled a bit as their strength left them. The two were panting hard, falling to their knees at the swamp's edge. Ancient wolf spirits gazed down at them from branches and the shoreline. Some were black, some silver, some grey and brown and white. Some looked menacing, others docile, a few sympathetic.

As every drop of strength left Yom's body, he helplessly clawed at the dirt but his claws retracted back into fingernails. His eyes faded back to brown. His limbs felt like rubber, weak and useless. Soon he didn't have enough strength to lift his head more than a few inches, but with it he could look up and see the moon falling into shadow. The curse was trying to return them to what they had been, completely human... but for Yom it was that much worse. He had been born a wolf, it was like denying him his very existence. A few feet away, Udo wasn't much better off. He wanted to crawl to Marco's side, to defend his alpha to his last, but he doubted very much he could even float if he got into the water. Marco was going to have to face Demeas on his own.

"Are you so sure about that? Sure, you've been scheming and planning, but did you take everything into account?" Marco asked, grinning slowly, showing off his fangs as his ears pushed into points and his claws emerged. Demeas' black eyes widened as he looked at the alpha before settling onto a necklace resting around his neck.

"Moonstone..." Demeas chuckled slowly, "You brought your own moon to the eclipse. You've turned defeat into a draw, is that it? You still can't win against me, I'm the alpha of the dark wolves, of the power reshaping the world. You're all alone." Demeas replied. At that Marco merely smiled.

"I'm never alone. I have my pack, right here with me..." Marco said, leaning in to kiss Fletcher. Demeas had to admit, he was intrigued by the tactic, but he could show the alpha who was boss. He grabbed Marco's head and kissed him fiercely, biting the alpha's bottom lip and tugging on it, plunging his tongue back and forth a few times. The two stumbled in the water, having to turn a bit to reorient themselves and keep upright before Demeas broke the kiss. Marco felt a tight snap around his neck, a thread breaking.

"And look what your little Rayne did..." Demeas murmured, holding the moonstone in his hand. Marco felt his strength wavering. His werewolf traits started to recede and pull back, his eyes returning to normal. He grunted and wobbled before falling to his knees. Demeas grinned wider, "I'm not very impressed with your pack." He replied.

"Then you should meet my new friend..." Marco replied. There was a faint hiss in the air, something fighting the atmospheric pressure itself to reach its target. Demeas turned and looked back at Marco's retort, looking at Yom and Udo still helpless, but he noticed the arrow too late. It connected with flesh, sinking into his shoulder. Demeas roared at that, reaching up to break off the shaft of the arrow that had penetrated his body. Black eyes darted up to see Auel perched in one of the trees and he looked back at Marco furiously.

"You... worked... with a hunter?!" Demeas screamed, back handing Marco, sending him splashing into the water. Demeas reached down to use Rayne's fingers, wrapping them around Marco's throat, pushing him down into the water. Bubbles came rushing up as Demeas thrashed the alpha, banging him against the bottom of the swamp before he pulled him back up to the surface.

"What do you think it will gain you? You can't turn back what I've done, the curse is updating itself, the world is changing, I've won."

"What... will... you do... with Fletch?" Marco panted, water dribbling from his nose and mouth. Demeas slowly grinned again, enjoying being able to rub his victory in the face of others.

"His body is mine now... But there isn't room for two. The very last dark wolf to rip out of its human host will be me. He'll be a husk, and I'll be alive again." Demeas replied. Marco smiled more.

"I was hoping you'd say that..." Marco panted, "Are you feeling it yet?" he asked. Demeas hesitated.

"Feeling what? I'm immune to the eclipse, and your moonstone only helped me..." Demeas replied. Marco chuckled, the water up to his neck but Demeas still keeping his head above water.

"But you can still feel it... You're losing your grip. The strength is fading away, the sense of smell, of hearing, of sight." Marco replied. Demeas said nothing, though there was an ache in his bones that shouldn't have been there, his grip was looseing, the ocean sounds fleeting and harder to hear.

"What did you do?" Demeas demanded.

"The moonstone wasn't the only gift we were given... The Yashin's keeper wanted to keep Yom safe at any cost, even depleting an ancient supply of a powder used to keep the wolves at bay, to turn off their powers, to keep them hidden. If Yom had taken it the eclipse wouldn't have been so hard, but we wanted to be sure there was enough for you." Marco hissed. Demeas growled and pulled Marco up to his feet, though half way up he started to falter. Fletcher wasn't strong enough on his own to lift Marco's body weight. Demeas stumbled and Marco grabbed onto his waist to both hold him in place and to keep himself upright.

Demeas growled and brought a hand up to punch Marco in the ribs over and over, using Fletcher's pathetic human fingernails to slash and cut at the skin, but as he moved the flickering shadow appeared again. Demeas' spirit was falling out of sync with the human shell he wore. Marco leaned in to lick Fletcher's ear slowly.

"That was it, right? The key to this all? You had to be back here, but with a body? But the body isn't going to hold you anymore. You aren't part of his soul, either, so you won't come back once it wears off. You'll just cease to exist." Marco whispered with supreme pride.

"You... can't..." Demeas growled before he snarled and bit at Marco's shoulder with his human teeth and slashed and punched, but each move made him wearier, more exhausted. The two were leaning against one another just to stay standing as their energies drained away. Marco grinned more, but Demeas wouldn't give him the satisfaction. The black drained away from Fletcher's eyes and the flickering became more tangible.

The darkness began to peel away from Fletcher like a detached shadow, stumbling back, reshaping and reforming. Demeas wolf form stretched up inches taller than Marco or Fletcher, his fur wet and seeping, his eyes as dark as night... but he was still a little intangible. Marco could see the trees through him. Suddenly drained of the second soul in his body, Rayne crumpled down, splashing into the water. Marco grunted in shock, falling in after him.

"Marco!" Udo exclaimed, trying to crawl his way toward his pack mates. Marco used every ounce of strength to turn Fletcher over and try and prop him up, his head breaching the surface. Demeas parted his muzzle and let out a heavy, deep, resounding roar. His victory had been snatched away. He charged toward the two, though as his spirit came in contact with Fletcher's body, it disolved momentarily. Demeas stumbled over the human's form and had to spin around, reforming a bit. Marco grinned, coughing and sputtering, his mouth barely above water level.

"You can't fucking touch him any more... He's mine!" Marco growled.

"Then you'll have to suffer in his place!" Demeas growled and charged, though as he moved something hooked around his neck. A figure lunged from the shoreline, swinging around on the hooked staff around Demeas' neck. As the human landed in the water, the torque of the staff sent Demeas flying. He hit the shore and rolled, only to land on all fours and charge.

Nyctimus whipped his staff around, catching Demeas with magic rather than its tip, using both hands to fling the dark wolf again. Demeas went flying over Udo and Yom, slamming into the trees, though his intangible form merely scattered into dust and reformed on the other side. The raging beast seemed winded and rolled over again onto his belly, panting.

"B-Brother..." Demeas panted, looking up at the human spirit. Nyctimus walked past Marco and Fletcher, then past Udo and Yom. He crouched down in front of Demeas, looking at him eye to eye.

"You killed me..." Nyctimus whispered, "You tricked me, you beguiled me, you betrayed me." He said softly, looking down at the dirt.

"But brother, I-" Demeas stopped as he felt Nyctimus' staff slowly slide down around his neck.

"I thought I could save you, that I could keep you safe. I thought we were family... but all we are is a memory eclipsed by the modern day." Nyctimus said softly, running one hand up and down his staff, or at least the memory of it, "There are others to watch over the pack now. New heroes to fight the villains, new keepers to keep them safe, and thanks to you a new world for them to walk into for better and worse." Nyctimus said. Demeas said nothing, looking up at Nyctimus, his large wolf head pinned with the head of the staff.

Nyctimus turned and smiled to Udo, to Yom, to Marco and to Fletcher. It had been quite something to have them reach all the way to the other side, to shake him out of his complacency... to remind him what was important. He knew that Demeas would keep trying to save himself at the expense of others, to seek revenge, that any words that left that tongue would be sweet poison.

"Brother, please, give me one more chance?" Demeas whispered, his voice hoarse. Nyctimus shook his head.

"I'm not giving you another chance to get what you want. That's not what they were for... Demeas, our time is done. I've waited between worlds long enough. It's time for us to move on. Goodbye, brother." Nyctimus whispered. He looked up at the sky as the moon started to emerge from the shadow of the Earth, little by little. The light came down and passed through Demeas, his translucence making him seem less and less tangible. The staff slowly shifted as Demeas form simply disappeared, burned away by the light.

---

Marco's eyes snapped open once more, shifting between all the colors before settling on yellow. He looked over at Nyctimus kneeling before him.

"I remember it all..." Marco whispered, "As my strength returned I dragged Fletcher to the shore... and I... I..." Marco paused before a smile crossed his lips, "I gave him CPR and woke him up."

"CPR, just like when you tried to save Artyom." Nyctimus smiled.

"It's how I became a werewolf... trying to save people." Marco whispered.

"You're off to a good start, but you have a lot more to do. The world knows about werewolves now. Everything's going to change." Nyctimus said softly. At that, Marco looked more concerned. He sat upright more and looked at the guardian spirit.

"But you said your time was done... You're... passing on?" Marco asked. Nyctimus nodded slowly.

"I've given my staff to someone else, and I don't know what this new world is going to be like. It's yours now, all of yours. I just needed to stay a little longer to tie up some loose ends. I had promises to keep, and so did my brother." Nyctimus smiled, "I had to make sure you'd be alright. The real world needs good people like you, and this place needs to move on to harbor the dreams of a new generation." Nyctimus said. Marco turned and looked around, amazed by how much it had all changed.

The two were resting in thick spring grasses, wild flowers blooming all around them... but even the horizon was embracing the change of season. The towering ruins of buildings were covered with all the colors of the rainbow as the flowers opened and birds were flying from point to point.

"I don't know how to get home from here..." Marco said. Nyctimus smiled at that tenderly.

"You've done it before, my friend. This is the last time you need to wake up from a dream of this place. Just open your eyes, your pack has taken care of the rest." Nyctimus said. Marco looked at this strange ghost of the past for another moment before he closed his eyes. The sweet air, the warm wind, the feel of the grass beneath him all faded away like a half remembered dreeam. The sensations were replaced instead by something less comfortable... The feeling of his feet being dragged.

Marco grunted and moaned, squirming. This proved to be a mistake as he had wriggled free of Auel and Yom's grip, falling to the ground. He winced and moaned, opened his eyes, looking up at the early dawn sky. He turned his head and looked over to see Udo carrying Fletcher, the wound in his shoulder wrapped with part of Auel's shirt. No doubt the hunter had been trained in field care to treat wounds... but they were back on the other side, back home in a world that was about to change forever. Nyctimus words stuck with him, though. There had been promises to keep for all of them. Marco had to step his game up and do better at protecting not only his own pack, but werewolves as a whole against anything that would threaten them. It was a tall order, but Marco knew as soon as he could stand up on his own again, he'd face the future.

---

A slight buzzing came from the neon sign flickering in the window of the seedy bar, an ever present reminder of the state of decay that permeated the place. The lights were dim, the bar was grubby and the floor unwashed. A layer of film seemed to ring the room, the center kept bare only by the endless trudging of feet back and forth. The bartender moved about, refilling glasses with watered down beer, bringing them to the patrons whose eyes were devoid of hope, joy, and vitality. It was a watering hole for the lost, the despondent, the destitute... and it was practically a home away from home for one bar fly.

A man sat at the far end of the bar wearing torn up black jeans and a thread bare sleeveless t-shirt. His blond hair was shaved on the sides and wild in the middle. He had coarse stubble across his cheeks and skin and his grey eyes were gazing down the neck of the bottle of vodka he had nearly finished. The man was in his early thirties but his eyes seemed quite a bit older, hollow and lifeless. In a way, that had been the point with the vodka, but it was taking more and more each time to shut out the gnawing, the anger, the presence of the beast within himself... especially after what had happened during the eclipse, what he had felt, what he had done.

The bartender focused on the ancient television mounted up in the corner of the bar, showing grainy reception of the news reports pouring in from all around the world, but to the only patron in the establishment it might as well have been a billion miles away. His mind was focused on what he had just endured. It had started just as it always had. His heart had stopped, his bones had withered into brittle dust. The light of his life had faded away and he had been torn apart from the inside out. He had grown accustomed to feeling the creature inside growing stronger, larger, waking up from his slumber. His pants had been soaked with blood many times over as the direwolf escaped... but this time had been different. He hadn't crawled his way out of the beast's body. In an instant the world had come back into bitter focus and for once he had his memories... Running toward the heart of San Antonio, attacking anyone that got in his way with a ruthless animosity, biting victims on the risky chance they might join him in his cause.

"You need another one Sol?" The bartender asked. She was in her early thirties as well, her brown hair tied back into a loose ponytail.

"Nah, I better hit the road. I'm late for a meeting as it is... Gonna use the head first though." The man said, lifting the bottle back to his lips, taking a last swig of his drink. It ran down his throat, coupled with a burning feeling... but it wasn't the booze. Sol stood up and stumbled off of the bar stool, staggering toward the bathroom. His hand reached out and braced against the door, sending it flying open. He moved in and kicked it shut behind him, moving toward the well used urinal.

One hand hastily started to tug at his fly, tugging the zipper down before popping the button. He pulled his stained underwear down and withdrew his cock, ready to piss, but in that moment he froze. Sol blinked his drunken eyes several times, trying to determine if he was hallucinating. What he saw couldn't possibly be. Resting in his right hand was his manhood, the shaft half hard with the erection of a cock trying not to release its load of urine. The shaft lead up to its thick mushroom shaped head, the same cock that Sol had every time he was a human... but it didn't feel right in his hand.

At first Sol thought it was just a bit more erect than usual, extending past the end of his palm, hanging with a bit of heft... but it wasn't just longer, or even wider. There was more give on the flesh, pushing up against the bottom edge of his head... and it was too dark. Sol gazed at his shaft with growing apprehension as he watched the flesh darken, taking on tan spots that turned brown, then darkened up quickly to the color of milk chocolate. The spots began spreading outward across his cock, coming together as the skin began oozing up over the head of his cock, encasing it in uncut skin.

"What the fuck?" Sol muttered to himself, dropping his cock. It flopped down with much more girth, slapping against his swelling, darkening balls. The reaction was instantaneous, causing his cock to harden far more, pushing out longer and longer and longer. Sol moaned, feeling more pleasure than he had in quite some time. It was a rather alien feeling, and not one at all of the wolf trying to get out. He stumbled forward again, a hand slamming against the tile wall, but that too was a source of shock.

Sol watched as his palm plumped out, growing wider. His fingers grew longer and soon the same dark brown patches appeared on his hand. Sol had been through countless transformations over the last few years, but nothing had ever been like this. The wolf wasn't trying to get out, he was just changing. His drunk mind wondered if this was what it was like to be a werewolf, to have his body slip harmoniously from one form to the next. Had he finally gotten so drunk he was at peace with himself? Was that how it worked?

Sol moaned softly and turned around, moving toward the dirty bathroom mirror. He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and ran it under the yellowed water of the sink before swiping it over the mirror itself. As the crust came off the glass, it revealed a very strange vision to the changing man. One arm was mottled with spreading brown. His chest had darkened as well, but the most surprising change of all came from his pubic hair. What had been light and wispy was now black and bristly. It was thick and course, curled around his cock and across his chest.

The man tried to think about what his options were. The bartender didn't know of his condition, let alone whatever was happening now. He turned his right hand to one side and then the other. While the back was brown, the palm was lighter. His fingernails stuck out with as white as they were. Sol lifted his head back up to look at the mirror. Had he lost his mind? Was this it? Was he finally going insane?

His internal questions were met with a sickening crunch as his nose began to reshape. The nostrils spread wider, the tip of the nose blunted and the slope took on a far stronger, more dignified shape. Sol coughed and sputtered as his throat burned even more, his vocal chords throbbing and aching. He practically hissed like a snake as his lower jaw began to bloat and widen, squaring up more.

Sol leaned over the sink for support, his left arm moving to match his right. The brown was making quick progress in changing his skin tone. From his long cock across his stomach and chest, up his neck and down his arms, even his face was taking on the new coloring. The flesh continued to shift and as the dark pigment hit his hairline, the shaved short blond hair darkened at once to a deep midnight black. The crazed strip of hair down the center began to curl and tighten, frizzing up. It had merely been wild before, but as it tightened and took on a new texture it almost seemed a bit like an unstyled mohawk.

Sol lifted his head, panting sharply. His heart was beating irregularly, his chest heaving for breath. Something else had changed, something else was happening. His wolf sensed the change, it was trying to get out. He felt the stirring in his chest like a parasite, the throbbing in his skull, but for the first time in his life... Sol could feel that the wolf was trapped. It couldn't get out, it couldn't emerge. The claws were unable to escape his fingertips, the ribs were locked in place. A strange, sadistic grin crossed his face.

"You don't like it, do you fucker? Locked up in there, caged like an animal... You have no idea what you've put me through." Sol hissed, grinning wide, "Maybe I'm dying, maybe I'm becoming something else... But I hope you rot in hell right there, trapped inside, unable to get out." Sol growled in triumph before he groaned sharply and doubled over. The pain ripped down his spine and legs. His ass cheeks were swelling a bit, his feet growing larger. His shoes groaned in protest. Sol drooled a little in exertion, panting before he lifted his head. The brown was continuing to spread across his face, covering ever feature even as his ears grew. Sol blinked a few times, watching as his eyes shifted from grey to brown, taking on a small hint of green flecks... They were amazing eyes, unique eyes, eyes he had only seen once before. Then it hit him.

"Oh god... The... The kid..." Sol whispered. He was looking at the face of one of his victims, one of the ones his wolf had torn down in his prime... or he had. The lines were so blurry, everything was. Sol groaned sharply, looking down at his chest, his arms, his legs, even his cock. He was taking on the entire body of the eighteen year old he had slaughtered years before. Was it punishment? Retribution? In a strange way, Sol didn't care. The manic grin crossed his lips slowly again as he looked at his reflection.

"This is it, huh?" he whispered, "You can't get out and this kid is taking my place? So be it... We'll die together, unified for the first fucking time in our lives." Sol whispered before he closed his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a swirling light, a fog that moved over his thoughts. As it crept over his memories they became less and less clear, fading away. The pain of the murders, the pain of dying over and over again. It was becoming vague, inconsequential. It was very cathartic. Sol let go to the fog, embraced it and released himself. The void spread through his mind, empty and clear.

For a long moment the young man's body operated off of instinct alone, drawing breath... But then a memory popped in. Ice cold water raining down from above, the feel of the cold hard linoleum beneath him. It was the last memory of a dying werewolf, the memory of being in his school, fighting a direwolf. With that memory in place, more began to follow. Senior year, eating raw meat, training with his brother, becoming better and better, getting the bite in the first place, growing up... An entire life unspooled into the brain that had once held Sol, but now it was home to another. It was home to Conrad.

The hazel eyes snapped open as Conrad gasped for breath. It was the first breath he had in several years. He blinked a few times before looking at the mirror and then down at himself. He was standing in a nasty bathroom with his fly open, wearing soiled black jeans and a wife beater shirt... and he had no idea where he was. He looked around with growing fear before something hit him, a pulse, a throb, a surge... a surge of deep, rumbling strength, of power and vitality.

Conrad began panting faster and harder, his chest rising and falling as his teeth grew into points in his mouth, the fangs elongating. His ears stretched into points, his fingernails began to stretch and grow, coming into claws. His chest throbbed as his pecs hardened and his abs defined. His body was tightening and hardening with exercise he'd never taken the time to attempt... and then his arms swelled. His biceps and triceps expanded, rounding more and more. They surpassed the arms of a swimmer, even a wrestler, almost as thick as those of a body builder. They were huge and meaty, complimenting the broad shoulders.

Conrad looked at himself in doubt, wondering what was going on. He'd never been so big or strong... or as mature. Then he realized that was just what was happening. The body that he had been poured into was older, more mature... and it was starting to sink in. Deep surges of testosterone began pouring through his veins and his fang filled grin grew wider. His cock hoisted itself up from his heavy balls, jutting straight out as the foreskin pulled back from the juicy tip, though the head was still rather human.

The surge continued, making Conrad feel drunk with power, with ability, with masculinity. A clawed hand dropped down, starting to work his thick black shaft. He pumped it hard, drooling more wildly. The saliva dribbled down over his plump, round lips across his stubble. As the liquid navigated the individual hairs, it found its path harder to track. More hair was pushing out as Conrad's cheeks and chin darkened, turning black. The stubble began to extend outward, growing centimeters by the second.

"FUCK YES!" Conrad howled, forcing his eyes to stay open despite the blinding pleasure. He watched his beard grow outward, dropping from his jaw, puffing out from his cheeks. Unlike the kinky hair on his head, his beard was growing in straight... but it was still the beard of a black man. Each hair was thicker and courser, giving the beard intense volume. It dropped down past his adam's apple, his collar bone, then even his nipples. The sides angled in toward the base like a wedge, giving it a respectable shape.

Conrad reached a quivering hand up and began to drag his clawed fingers through the huge beard. The feeling of how thick it was, how big it was and the tender feeling of his face, the sensation of having it pet, sent him over the edge. Conrad tipped his head back and howled, his eyes turning a bright gold as dark yellow cum sprayed out of his foot long cock, splashing into the dirty sink, plugging up the drain. Conrad sprayed his load for moment after moment, the lust of it all sinking into his brain.

He was a virile beast, a powerful creature, a resurrected man with the strength to prevent the same thing from happening again... But he had the strength of the body he'd been poured into as well, the strength of a battle hardened direwolf. Conrad had no idea what the future would hold for him, but he knew one thing - he was damn horny, and he needed a very good fuck.