"Am I going to see her again?" he whispered. "Am I dying too?"
The woman looked into his eyes. "Son of Gerard. My very son. Your father was a warrior… and so are you. You must survive."
Suddenly, the vision cracked. Her face twisted in fear.
"No! No, please don't go! Don't leave me, don't leave me! I'm scared! Don't leave me!"
And then—she vanished.
The vision shifted. Brutal. Vivid.
He saw her—his mother—being tortured. Saw her fighting to protect him. Saw his father, fully transformed into a massive werewolf, struggling to defend her. But they held him down… and killed him too.
Kane's eyes flew open.
The visions were gone.
A wolf loomed over him, ready to strike. One of the werewolves was poised to deliver the final blow.
Diren was smiling.
"Yes. He needs to be dead," Diren said coldly.
But just then—Kane's arm transformed.
He gasped.
His right arm morphed into a werewolf's—muscle swelling, claws sprouting.
With a shout, he yanked it free, snapping the chain.
His left arm followed—cracking, twisting—and broke the second restraint.
His full body couldn't transform. He was still human. But his arms—they were werewolf arms.
And they were enough.
He launched forward, attacking the two werewolves head-on.
He slashed one across the chest, dodged the other, then struck again. He remembered Ili was fast—but Kane moved faster, raw instinct and rage driving him.
The moment they hesitated, he turned and bolted—racing toward the entrance he'd come through.
The chamber was massive—an arena.
He ran.
Diren shouted, "Close the door! Don't let him escape!"
The heavy door was already dropping.
Kane dove, sliding under it just in time.
He didn't stop.
He burst out of the castle. Guards were stationed outside.
Behind him, Diren's voice rang out again. "Don't let him escape! Hold him!"
But Kane didn't look back.
He ran.
A guard shifted midair and slashed his back.
Kane cried out, but turned, slashing the werewolf's chest with his claws. Another lunged—he cut its throat.
He didn't stop.
He ran through the outer gates, past the startled eyes of werewolf citizens. No one dared to block his path.
He kept going.
Until finally—he crossed the boundary.
Out of werewolf territory.
He stopped.
Breathing hard.
Trees surrounded him.
He was in the forest.
His breath came in short gasps as he scanned the woods, heart still pounding. Slowly, the clawed hand began to shift—returning to human form.
"Shit… I'm bleeding," he muttered, swaying.
Each step was heavier than the last. He dragged himself forward, blood streaking his back, his legs trembling.
Then—voices behind him.
Shouting.
At least six of them.
"Where is he?!"
"He couldn't have gone far!"
"We have to find him!"
Kane didn't look back.
He couldn't.
He was out of time—bleeding, hunted, and alone in a forest that offered no safety.
But something had awakened.
And this time… he wasn't going to die.
He didn't wait. He started running again, as fast as his body would let him. But he was weak—too weak. One of them caught up and slashed him across the back.