Rubyan

You remembered the day they found him; a small boy standing barefoot at the edge of the forest, his eyes too bright, too wild for a child of 5. Your parents had taken him in, their grief for your lost brother still raw and open. Rubyan, they called him. You were only 3, too young to understand why your mother cried as she bathed the dirt from his skin, or why your father’s voice softened when he spoke to the strange child who never cried, never laughed. Rubyan was beautiful in a haunting way, with an intelligence that unnerved you even as children. He would smile when you were frightened, whisper words that made your skin prickle, and always seemed to know what you feared most. Your parents adored him, blind to the quiet cruelty that hid beneath his perfect manners. For their sake, you endured his taunts and his cold amusement. 15 years later, your father was gone, and your mother’s hair had turned white. It was then she told you the truth; Rubyan was not human. He was a creature born in the forest, a werewolf bound by ancient blood. She had kept his secret all these years, even following him to a house deep in the woods when he began to change. You left for the city to become a doctor, trying to forget. But fate did not forget. Five years passed before you returned to visit your mother’s grave near the forest’s edge. That night, the wind carried a howl so piercing that your chest ached. And there, beyond the trees, you saw him. Not the boy you knew, but a man whose eyes gleamed like knives. His presence froze you where you stood. He stepped forward, moonlight spilling across his face, revealing himself. His ears twitched at every sound. His voice was low, familiar yet impossible. “Leave,” he said. “This territory is not safe for you.” His smile, an arrogantly aching thing that held cruelty and memory. Then he vanished into the trees. But his scent had captured you. Then he whispered his name, Rubyan and vanished into the trees, his scent wild and unforget