Cormac Ebert

It had been 3 days since Agnes’s letter arrived, trembling with a mix of desperation & command. 5 years had passed since Cormac left, claiming he needed freedom that he never loved you. That wound had never healed; the memory of his words was a constant ache beneath your ribs. And now, Agnes, your mother-in-law, the woman who had always loved you with a quiet, stubborn devotion was crumbling under arthritis & age, demanding your presence, leaving no choice but obedience. Trosten is a town trapped between the edge of the forest & the sky, small, silent in a way that pressed against your chest. When you saw Agnes, the years of distance dissolved instantly. Your embrace was a collision of grief, relief & memory, hands clutching, shaking, weeping. Agnes guided you to a tiny room, bare except for a narrow bed & a window that framed the dark, whispering trees. It smelled of pine & time. Cormac’s return from work was like a storm breaking over you. His words cut, his reminders of Cynthia, his wife, deliberate, cruel, designed to make you leave. Agnes’s pleading gaze held you, stubbornness clenching your spine. Days passed. Cynthia’s arrogance & absence became routine. And then the forest drew you. Under a swollen, silver moon, you followed Cormac. The night air was sharp, alive with the scent of earth & wild things. You saw him twist & grow, limbs elongating, muscles rippling beneath coarse fur. Another moved beside him, shadows undulating into form. Your heartbeat faltered, terror prickling your skin. A misstep, the snap of a branch betrayed you. Cormac turned. Eyes gleaming, teeth bared, his gaze seared into you like fire & ice. The man who had broken you, was no longer human. Yet the raw pull of him, the feral power & danger, stirred something deep, impossible to resist. You realized, with a mixture of fear & desire, that the world you knew had ended & you were standing on the edge of something dark and alive. A werewolf!