When Prospero awoke, there was nothing to be seen beyond Grimhilde’s light. The fairy, who had been sleeping on his back, stirred with a yawn and took to the air when he uncurled himself. Night had fallen beyond the cavern.

  It’s time, he thought. I feel at ease without daylight stalking my every move. I should keep this place in mind when day breaks.

  A chorus of squeaks echoed from deeper within. Prospero recalled his previous thought about bats and followed the noise with careful paces to avoid disturbing the creatures from their perch. Beyond the perimeter cast by Grimhilde’s glow, he spotted a jury of eyes reflecting from the darkness, hanging from the ceiling. He lowered his stance and pounced, catching a bat between his teeth before the group had time to react. A storm of screeching wings dispersed in every direction; some fleeing, some descending upon Prospero to nibble fruitlessly on his hide. He crushed the bat’s bones between his jaws and spat out its membranous wings just in time to receive a notification.

  [Vampire Bat] Defeated

  [Flying Mammal Proficiency] + 1

  [Flying Mammal] Form Unlocked! (Aptitude - Fortitude)

  No use in leaving strays, he thought. I’ll hunt just enough to max out my proficiency.

  With the swarm in chaos, it wasn’t too difficult for him to snatch a few more specimens out of the air.

  [Flying Mammal Proficiency] + 4

  Once his morning meal of blood had concluded, he summoned the System to have a look at the new form.

  Hm. Shapeshifting into a Flying Mammal only increases my Beasthood by [5%], he thought. I can comfortably change into a bat for the sake of travelling and still have enough leeway to shift into a more dangerous form.

  Wolves and rabbits and lizards were all well and good, but he would need to raise the bar if he ever wanted to stand a chance against Orlok. With an aerial form, he could survey the rest of the taiga for creatures he hadn’t devoured yet, and search for points of interest besides.

  …Gods above, what am I thinking? he lowered his head. I haven’t spent a day by myself, and I’m already considering how best to slaughter the beasts of this realm. How can I hope to honour my father’s wishes without practising his love of life? Is there truly no other way?

  He asked himself that question for no other reason than to delay his work. A part of him, whether incited by the Beastblood or not, looked forward to the battles ahead. Blood was worth more to him now than any meal. How long would it be before his humanity began to slip away - or, had he already sunk too low? Even now, the idea of returning to his homely, human form was beginning to sound like an inconvenience.

  Grimhilde hovered into view. Prospero couldn’t understand a word of what she said, but the expression on her face was saddened. He had the inkling, no more than a thought, that she could read emotions just as well as she did minds. There was some measure of comfort in knowing that someone - anyone - was capable of sharing in his sorrow.

  You didn’t murder me in my sleep, he thought. And I feel as if nothing within me has been stolen or twisted. I was wary of you at first, but it seems now that you truly do have my interests at heart.

  She twirled around and grinned.

  I won’t refuse help. The Gods know I need it, he continued. I won’t object if you’re set on accompanying me. Just make sure not to hurt yourself.

  A fairy companion wasn’t what he expected to find on that desolate realm, but every advantage was worth welcoming. Someone to speak to, whether she could understand him or not, did well to remind Prospero that there was still a human lurking beneath his bestial form.

  [Flying Mammal] Form Activated

  Finesse (+50%) / Beasthood (+5%)

  He shrunk, and was suddenly quite vulnerable as a tiny bat crawling on the ground. Grimhilde’s ethereal glow now seemed all too bright, and the cavern surrounding them much less dark. Instincts imparted by the Beastblood - and his growing Beasthood - allowed him to take flight after a short minute of pitiful attempts. He felt far more at home with his head upturned on the ceiling than he did on the ground.

  I suppose it doesn’t get any more Vampiric than this, he thought. I’ll have to be careful about approaching other creatures… A common crow could be a danger to me in this form, never mind a bird of prey.

  With Grimhilde trailing behind, he flew out from the cavern. Ascending the cliff face was a trifle now that he had a pair of wings. Fevered squaking accompanied his climb as birds nestled within the monument reacted to his presence. On the way up, he took note of a lonely sparrow’s nest filled with younglings being tended to by a parent. There had to be at least five newborns.

  …No, he thought. I have a responsibility to control myself. A snake wouldn’t hesitate to prey on a nest of chicks, but I can afford to be better than that. If I need an avian form that badly, I’ll take it from something else.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  When he reached the cliff’s peak, a snowcapped horizon of woodland awaited him. He could only just make out the snaking river that would lead him back to the area where he’d been dropped off by Victima. The only place of interest beyond the monument itself, which Prospero found himself surprised to spot, was a manmade clearing in the forest surrounding what appeared to be a small village.

  Humans, he thought. I’m surprised. I thought the wild realms were completely empty.

  Deciding there was no better place worth investigating, he took off from his perch and rode the buffeting winds down to the treeline. It would have taken him half an hour of traipsing through the snow in his wolf form to match the distance it took him less than a few minutes to cross in the air. Grimhilde’s wings, suited for manoeuvrability over speed, had trouble keeping up with him.

  [Canine] Form Activated

  Finesse (+50%) / Beasthood (+15%)

  Once the village was within walking distance, he glided beneath the pines and shifted to a more appropriate form. His Beasthood rose to a low [35%].

  I still feel like myself, he exhaled. Any more than this, and the Beastblood will start to affect my common sense. I should really try to remain in this form for the rest of the night if I can help it.

  Returning to his true form would have been more appropriate, but the lack of activity from the village had him wondering whether it was populated or not. Sure enough, once he reached a crest in the landscape overlooking the settlement, he couldn’t spot a single human.

  The thatched rooftops and rotting wooden supports of every home led Prospero to believe that the humans who once dwelled in the village were an isolated bunch. Every entrance, open to the freezing air, had a sheet of snow blocking entry. The residents had been gone for a while.

  It seems like a peaceful place, Prospero thought. I wonder why it was abandoned.

  A peek into one of the homes answered his question. Against the far wall, behind toppled tables, crude bronze tools, and shattered pottery, was a half-rotted corpse. A spear had been thrust between its exposed ribs, filling in the blanks of the village’s abandonment rather thoroughly.

  There must have been a battle between the villagers… or a tragedy so terrible that the land was considered cursed, he thought. Do you know what happened here, Grimhilde?

  The fairy was silent. It was not that she refused to speak - whatever good that might have done - only that she was too ashamed to consider it. Her eyes darted away from the corpse, suggesting a personal responsibility for the villagers’ absence.

  …Surely you didn’t kill these people?

  She shook her head with such aplomb that it could have broken free from her neck.

  But you were somehow involved with what happened here, Prospero concluded.

  After a pause, she nodded.

  It would be nice if I could simply ask you what happened, but things are never easy, he returned his gaze to the corpse. No matter. I’m sure I can work it out from what’s been left behind.

  The lack of any objection from Grimhilde told him that, perhaps, she intended for Prospero to find the village to begin with. He had been curious about her origin and nature since their meeting. A sleuth around the premises was sure to unearth one or two things of note.

  Prospero used his paw to overturn a stone tablet on the ground thinking there would be a Runic spell on the other side, revealing inscriptions in a language he had never seen nor spoken - Grimhilde’s, presumably.

  This is going to be harder than I thought, he surmised.

  A chill wind forced him to blink on his way out. The well in the centre of the village had a single bucket next to it. Prospero knocked it over with his snout, revealing a mould of clear ice beneath the layer of snow.

  Someone was drawing water here, but didn’t have time to take it home, he thought. Whatever happened here, it happened quickly. Maybe a sudden monster attack? But that doesn’t explain the impaled corpse from earlier…

  Grimhilde tapped the side of his head, and he looked over to see her pointing towards the largest home in the village, overlooking every other from upon a tiny hill. If there was something important to discover, he thought, it would most likely be in there.

  He followed Grimhilde as she fluttered over and in through the curtain of leather draped over the entrance. The hall was low and cozy - or, it might have been when the pitted hearth in its centre was roaring with fire. Only ashes remained of the grand feasts that were once enjoyed there. Two tables of extraordinary length were plated at either side, their contents long pilfered and their guests long dead, some of whom had remained upright in their seats.

  There was some kind of celebration here… or, perhaps this is just how the villagers enjoyed their meals every day, Prospero thought. Whatever cataclysm responsible for their deaths, it was so swift and unexpected that some didn’t even have time to react before they perished.

  He turned to Grimhilde. Were these people poisoned?

  She nodded, but it wasn’t a confident gesture; a half-truth. There was more to unravel.

  Near the back of the hall, a smaller table had been laid out for the apparent leader, or chieftain, of the villagers. His half-eaten skeleton was slumped on another to his left, both of which were flanked by twin corpses at either end of the table; tiny and fragile - their children, Prospero assumed. A necklace was caught on the chieftain's vertebrae. Grimhilde fluttered behind the skeleton, lifted the jewelry off, and presented it to Prospero.

  The cord, he noticed, wasn’t fashioned of leather or string, but a microscopic link of chains, each ring too small and delicate for any jeweller or smith to create. Hundreds of those chains conjoined to support the rectangular emerald dangling at the bottom, flawless and perfectly symmetrical.

  This craftsmanship is too exquisite to exist on a wild realm, Prospero thought. The size of these chains… is it possible that it was created by fairies like yourself, Grimhilde?

  Again, she nodded. A picture was beginning to form in Prospero’s head.

  These people knew the fairies, then, he concluded. They must have been on good terms if the chieftain was in a position to accept gifts… assuming this WAS a gift. Were the fairies the ones who poisoned these people?

  The question was enough to get a few words out of Grimhilde. She wished so desperately to tell him something in that moment, but he couldn’t understand a word of her language no matter how dearly he wished to. Finally, she settled on a nod, evidently growing quite frustrated with her inability to communicate.

  Something happened between these humans and the fairies, he thought. I’ll have a look at this chieftain's room to see if I can’t find any more clues.