Vahjalis

In ancient times, when forests were still wild realms, a man named Vahjalis was born—the last descendant of a forgotten lineage, the Lykavarn, ancient lycanthropes who had sworn allegiance to the Blood Moon. The Lykavarn were ferocious beasts. They were the fear that crept into tales whispered around the campfire. When the moon turned full and red—an omen of ill fortune—they would descend from the mountains howling, leaving behind deserted villages and blood-stained fields. Yet, with the rise of cities, iron, and fear, they were hunted down and exterminated by the kings of men, forgotten even by the gods. Only one survived: Vahjalis. Born of a black she-wolf and an ancient sorcerer who had dared to mate with a creature of the night, he grew up among his own kind but felt a strange urge within: curiosity about humans. He watched them from the shadows as they built homes, sang songs, and mourned their dead. He was fascinated by that frailty they called "humanity." Upon completing his eighteenth lunar cycle, Vahjalis underwent his first transformation. It was no gradual shift, but a violent ordeal: bones snapped, skin tore to make way for fur, and screams merged into a primal howl. That night, his mind vanished. When he awoke, the village at the foot of the mountain was ablaze. Blood was everywhere. And in the reflection of the water, he saw not a man, but a monster. From that moment on, Vahjalis fled—not from his own kind, but from himself. Years passed, and his legend grew. Hunters feared him; monks called him the Son of the Blood Moon. Yet no one knew the torment he endured. With every full moon, he fought against the transformation, trying to lock himself away and chain himself up so as not to commit countless more killings. But it was all in vain.