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Warily, I backtrack, ears perked and senses sharp. My Beast pushes for control, and I step back, letting him track the animal’s movements.

It takes a bit longer than it should to discern its path, but once I do, I’m even more confused. Rather than staying downwind and tracking its prey like a normal wild feline, it follows a pattern of spiraling loops. The loops repeat over and over until it clicks and I realize⁠—

It’s circling the estate at the edge of the forest, circling the secluded home.

Guarding it.

Logically, I know this won’t lead to answers about Saline, but I find it impossible to leave it alone. Everything about this whole situation is abnormal, from the scent to its movements; hell… its very existence doesn’t make sense.

I still can’t leave it alone, though. And I’m out of leads.

The wet mist continues to fall. A light fog now shifts along the ground, adding to the eerie atmosphere. The smell of ozone encourages me to keep going, and I do, pushing forward with single-minded determination. The night is still. The air, heavy.

I get the sense that I’m the one being hunted. Or at the very least, toyed with—a novel experience. In this form—a massive silver wolf—my Beast reaches over four feet tall at the shoulder and weighs more than half a ton. Ninety-nine percent of the time, that makes me the apex predator in any situation.

And yet, I still find my ears perked, senses alert for the slightest sound or movement that’s outside the norm.

Before I know it, I find myself overcome by a strange sense of melancholy. I don’t stop to consider how strange the feeling really is. I’m focused now. Determined. I know I’m getting close when the scent sharpens into something ancient. Forbidden. A lullaby, forgotten after thousands of years, swept away by the wind to journey through time. I swear I can almost hear it. A gentle voice, singing words in a language I’ve never heard, but still understand.

With no idea why, I make an abrupt turn to the North. Less than five minutes later, I step from the trees and into a large, empty yard. In front of me is a mansion.

The Panther’s scent is strongest here. Whatever it’s been guarding—it lives in that house.

It’s not abnormal for humans to live far from civilization—to prefer the peace of nature over the bustle of city life. And yet, the large white mansion feels out of place. Wrong. Surrounded by what was once a well manicured lawn, a sprawling garden, and a gorgeous hedge maze, it radiates a dark aura that beauty can’t hide.

After a quick perimeter lap, I approach the residence along the North end, cutting across a winding gravel drive.

The owners are obviously gone, a fact verified as I get closer and the wind gusts, catching the front door and blowing it open. Right away, I’m hit with an overwhelming stench and a good idea of why this place is abandoned.

Severed.

The second the smell hits, my Beast is on edge—snarling, hackles raised, teeth bared, limbs coiled for attack. The smell of a Severed is just as insidious as they are, worming into your senses, spreading its rot with glee. They’re disgusting. Evil. Rotting sacks of bottomless hunger, meat and greed.

What reason could a human possibly have to interact with a Severed at their own home?

I’m cautious as I bound up the stairs toward the front entrance. If I shifted from Beast form, the Severed’s smell would overpower me. In this form, however, I can also pick out a few other scents—mainly random human males and⁠—

Blood. It’s not fresh, but it’s strong. Which means there’s probably a large amount. Knowing that doesn’t make me any less apprehensive, but I don’t turn back. I can’t.

The door’s open, but the inside is shrouded in shadow. I cross the threshold and blink, grateful this form only needs a second to adjust to the oppressive dark, with no moon or stars to shine light like outside.

I knew I wasn’t walking into anything good, but I’m still not prepared for the sight in front of me.

Once, this entryway must have been beautiful. Marble floors, a massive wrap-around staircase leading to a balcony on the second floor, brass embellishments, expensive everything—it practically screams wealth and power.

Or it used to before someone covered the whole place in blood.

Deep, dark splashes of red are everywhere—the stairs, the floor, the walls—like an artist got high and threw a tantrum. The taste of copper sticks in my throat, and even when I breathe through my mouth, I can’t erase the taste of death from my tongue.

My claws click against marble as I make my way across the foyer. It’s so dark that at first, I think the dark groove splitting the floor in half is a weird shadow. It’s not until I’m skidding to a stop, paw hovering mid-air right above it, that I realize I’m about to step into a fucking chasm.

Eyes wide, I follow the trajectory of what I thought was a shadow. It starts at the foot of the stairs and snakes across nearly the whole fucking room—easily ten feet long and, if I had to guess, about three feet deep. It’s not just a crack—it’s a Fatesdamned canyon. In the middle of the entryway. Like a giant walked in and took a sledgehammer to the marble.

What— what could even cause that kind of damage? Certainly no human. I don’t believe for a second it was a Severed. Not a weapon, either.

So… what?

A gust of wind rushes through the open door, and the sound of wind chimes explodes through the room. I tense, eyes snapping up to the ceiling where a chandelier swings in the wind directly above me. The attached crystals chime and crack precariously, the entire fixture attached with little more than destroyed mooring and a fucking prayer.