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Alrighty, the next chapter of the Wolf and the Rose is finally finished. With this one, I tried to work in a lot of symbolism, but it is up to all you clever readers out there to find it all. I hope you enjoy it.

As always, comments are appreciated and requested.

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Continued from "A Moment of Decision..."

Julianna's eyes opened slowly to the darkness of her bedchamber, or at least, it should have been dark. Unaccustomed to the heightened senses of the creature she had become, she found herself surprised that the unlit stone chamber was bright, as if it were lit by the sun, though only the barest shaft of light entered from the living room outside the door. Closing her eyes to the light and taking a deep breath of cool morning air, she tried to remember what she had been dreaming about. It had been an odd dream, filled with the things that only the subconscious could conjure. Most of the details were already gone, faded away into the ether, but as her mind woke more fully, she remembered one thing that stood out in her mind. It had been the image she had seen last, just before her mind dragged her from the dream world. It had been a fountain, the most beautiful fountain she had ever seen, more beautiful than even those that decorated the gardens of the Gulnian castle. An elegant cascade of shining water, bubbling away down a many tiered path of stone before branching to fall into a wide pool that seemed to never overflow, some virtue within it keeping the water from surpassing its banks.

The fountain seemed to be standing in a grove of trees, trees with odd, pale green bark and leaves like freshly polished gold, though it seemed to be height of spring. And though vines of ivy wrapped the nearby trees and trailed along the ground, seeming determined to choke off the undergrowth, no vine marred the fountain, nor crossed the borders of the pool. The oddest thing of all, was that the fountain seemed to be crafted all of jade and gold, and the water that flowed from it, though clear and pure, seemed to be giving off a faint light of its own. Shaking her head slightly to chase the odd image from her mind, she took another breath and smiled. Within the breath, she scented the last remnants of cleansing incense that still clung to the stone of her bedchamber, and more, the scent of the basin of rosewater that sat on the table across the room. But nearly overwhelming all others was a familiar scent that would always comfort her, as long as she lived. It was the scent of her love, the grey furred werewolf that lay beside her in the bed. While she had always found that scent comforting, now that she herself was a werewolf, it meant more to her somehow, though she did not understand why at the moment.

Still smiling warmly, she shifted over slightly so she lay against him once more, her head laid upon his chest. With her eyes still closed, she found herself listening to the sound of her lover's heart, its steady, unwavering beat echoing within her ears even as he breathed, the quiet whoosh of breath like a lullaby to her. She was so comfortable laying there that she very nearly drifted off into slumber once more. But, gradually, though she did not understand how she knew it, she became aware that Galen was awake, and had been for some time, though he held as still as if he were sleeping. Opening her eyes, she looked up at his fierce features, admiring once more the nobility that made his face comforting, though still wild and exotic to human eyes. He was staring up at the ceiling, his wise brown eyes distant, as if he were reliving a distant memory. But, something in his face made her look closer. There was a tension in his face, made hardly perceptible by his customary stoicism, but unmistakable. Whatever the memory was, it was painful, or difficult to see once more. Concerned, she shifted her white-furred body so she was curled against his muscular frame, giving him comfort while they lay side by side. His eyes lost their distance and he smiled down at her, putting an arm around her and giving her a tender kiss in reply.

"What's wrong?" Julianna asked when they broke the kiss.

"It is nothing you need to concern yourself with, my love." He replied, laying his head back on the pillow.

"Galen, tell me." She persisted and he sighed, gazing back up at the ceiling, his smile fading as he drew the memories back to the fore once more.

"I had a nightmare last night." He replied, "It woke me from sleep and once I was awake, I couldn't drift off again. It disturbs me that things can still get under my skin like that. Until I met you, my life was one long, unending nightmare, playing out in the real world."

"What was it about?" She questioned, stroking her claws soothingly through his thick grey pelt, sympathetic to his feelings.

"I dreamed that I was back in Hell." He replied, "It was like I was reliving all the worst moments of those hours, over and over. No matter what I did, I couldn't escape." He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath once more, as if still struggling to escape from the dream. "What scared me the most was that it felt like I was really there, and when I woke up, I felt as cold and alone as I had when I was struggling through the corridors of Redamarc's fortress." Julianna shook her head and rose up on one arm.

"Well, we are the only mortal beings ever to come out of there alive." She said. "We may never be rid of its influence." Galen nodded his agreement and smiled wanly at her.

"I know." He replied. "But still, just after I woke up, for a few terrible moments, I felt like this was all an illusion, and that I was still there, being tormented for the amusement of those monsters. And the worst part is, in truth, I cannot be sure that it isn't."

"Does this feel like an illusion?" Julianna asked, kissing him warmly and caressing his chest with her fingertips, making him shiver beneath his fur. Then, she took his hand and placed it against her chest, "Does my beating heart feel like an illusion?"

"No." He replied, pulling her closer to him and drawing her into another sweet kiss. "You feel very real."

"Then put your mind at ease." Julianna whispered, laying her head back on his chest. "You are in the land of the living, with one who loves you."

Galen smiled and they lay in silence for a few minutes, drawing comfort from each other's closeness. And yet, even as they lay, Julianna felt a chill up her spine, a chill that had nothing to do with the claws of her lover stroking her new fur. For all her certainty, for all her assurances, she could not deny that Galen's words held a faint echo of possibility within them. How could she tell that all of this wasn't really some complex illusion, conjured by the demons? But then she noticed something that laid all her doubts to rest. Against the wall, beside the bed, Galen had laid his baldric with its weapons. And hanging from the hilt of his sword where he had left it was the golden cross that Galen had been given by Auré. The shape was perfect, no piece out of place, and she smiled to herself. No demon could reproduce even the image of the cross without it burning them. Still, she knew that somehow, the hours she had spent in Hell, as few as they had been, had indeed left their mark upon her. There would always be doubts now. Shaking off her discomfort, she drew in another breath filled with the warm scent of her lover, laying her head back on his chest. After a few more moments, Galen spoke once more.

"Well, what should we do today?" He asked, obviously steering the conversation away from that dreadful subject. Julianna shrugged in reply, for she had not given it much thought. Her plans had not gone much beyond this. Her need to reply was removed suddenly when a new scent drifted to her nostrils, carried through the door to the rest of her chambers, accompanying the sound of a door shutting quietly. Raising her head slightly, she looked at the door, her ears picking up the sounds of quiet footsteps coming from the next room. A few moments later, the priest of Arnath that had tended her while she had been suffering from the demonic poisons came into the doorway. Seeing that they were awake, he bowed deeply to them, his sky blue robes rustling.

"Sorry to disturb you." He began, a gentle smile creasing his lips. "But Master Hunter Galnikin is waiting to see Hunter Galen, as soon as is possible." Galen sighed deeply, gently shifting towards the edge of the bed and Julianna grinned at him in reply, shifting over the other way so he could rise to his feet without hindrance. He stood from the bed easily, drawing himself up to his full height, seven feet tall at the least in his transformed state, clothed in nothing but grey fur. It was natural for him to be without clothes while in this form, and he took a moment to stretch, muscles rippling, before picking up his cross and baldric, settling them across his chest. Then, he swirled the twilight grey cloak that marked his rank about his shoulders and leaned in for a last kiss.

"I will see you later Julianna." He said, walking towards the door. The priest obligingly stood aside so the towering wolf could pass him, then took a step into the room. Julianna stood up as well, drawing the outer coverlet close about herself as she did so. She still wasn't comfortable going about with no clothes on, no matter the form she bore. In fact, she was still getting used to the presence of the Wolf spirit within her mind. It was a bit like having someone watching over your shoulder all the time, a constant companion with its own needs and desires that nonetheless were a part of her.

"And how are you this morning, your highness?" The priest inquired, his kindly eyes searching her face carefully for any sign of illness.

"I feel well." She replied and he nodded in confirmation.

"I have to say that your recovery is nothing short of amazing," He said, shaking his head slightly. "Considering how close you came to death. If nothing else, the bite seems to have restored your health better even than my powers could have."

"Actually," Julianna said, considering how best to describe how she felt. "I feel...better than I did before I was poisoned. Or at least, more confident, stronger in a way."

"Well, as I understand it, that is hardly surprising. Werewolves, after all, are creatures of magic." The priest commented, turning to go, but then turning back towards her. "Oh, before I forget, your father has requested that you join him in the hedge maze, if you are feeling well enough."

"Thank you." She said, "Tell him that I will be there shortly."

"As you wish, your highness." He said, bowing to her before walking from the room with an even stride. Julianna waited until she heard the door to the corridor outside her chambers close, then she tossed the coverlet back onto the bed, following her lover's lead as she stretched, working the slight stiffness from her body. She felt as restless and able as if she had just spent an entire day sleeping, not a week suffering from one poison or another. Smiling, she walked over to the table, dipping her hands into the basin of rosewater, and gently splashing her face and neck with the sweetly scented liquid. Feeling more normal at last, she picked up her folded traveling clothes and walked from the bedroom, out into the sitting room beyond. But, when she got out into the room, she stopped, for she noticed a difference in her body all of a sudden. Setting her clothes aside for a moment, she looked down at herself in the sunlight and saw for the first time just how different she was now.

It wasn't that her legs now bent backward like a wolf's, because that seemed as natural to her as anything else had ever been. No, it was something else, and it took her a few moments to notice it. All her life, she had been slim-bodied, and, living the simple life of the priesthood for a large portion of her life had allowed her to keep that slim quality. But now, while her body still felt slim, she seemed to be more solidly built, stronger. In fact, had she known it, even without the wolfish features, she looked not at all like the young princess she had been when she first arrived back in her homeland. Compared to Galen's broad and well muscled physique, she was still slim and lithe, but there was a new, almost liquid strength in her frame, a strength and grace that she had never felt before. It seemed as though it were flowing from a well in her soul so deep she couldn't feel the bottom. Slowly clenching her fingers into a fist, she felt the supple strength within her limbs and smiled slightly at the new confidence that filled her. Now she knew why Galen's strength always seemed so limitless. She felt as though she could conquer anything with this strength, and she could only imagine what it must feel like for Galen, who had been strong before he had been bitten. What was more, his life had hardened him even further, stripping back any softness in his body, until he was like tempered steel inside and out. Only she, who had seen the other side of him, the side he hid beneath all that tough armor, knew that his spirit had not hardened totally in all the long years he had hunted in the wild places where others feared to go. Buried deep down within him, there was still gentleness, something that he never seemed to display for others.

At that moment, she was struck suddenly by something she hadn't considered before. At the least, Galen was thirty six years old, and yet, in his human form, aside from his much weathered features, he seemed no more than twenty, youthful and hale. And then, she understood how that could be possible, her companion spirit communicating the answer with impressions, strands of pure thought and feeling. Werewolves, as long as they were not killed in battle, could live on for far longer than humans did, the power of their companion spirit extending their life and vigor beyond that of mortal humanity. They were not immortal, not wholly, but still, they were almost timeless, beings that did not mark the passage of time for decades and even centuries.

Smiling to herself, she finally picked up her traveling tunic and let it unfold in her hand. But then she got another surprise. Holding the garment up to her body in surprise, she found that there was no way she could fit into it now. While a foot shorter than her love, she was still taller and broader than she had been when she was human. Sighing in vexation, she tossed the tunic on the table and went to her closet, trying to remember if there would be anything in there that would fit. Humming quietly to herself, she searched through the garments that hung within, most much too small for her now. But then, at last, near the back, hidden among some dresses that she would never wear, she found what she sought.

It was a full body hooded robe, meant to be worn like an outer tunic, and best of all, when it was clasped, it would cover the entire body, shielding it from the weather. Unclasping the twin broaches that held it closed, she swirled it about herself, sliding her arms into the billowy sleeves. Clasping it closed, she examined herself with satisfaction. Though it was supposed to be large enough to fit over normal clothing, it fit her altered form perfectly. The garment had been a gift from Knight Captain Isander, her original bodyguard, when he had visited her at the temple a few years ago while on an errand for her father. It was made from emerald green fabric, a cross weave of layered cotton lined with smooth silk. She had not been able to wear it at the temple, the priesthood preferring instead that she wear the simple robes that they did, and it had not been needed when Isander had been dispatched to bring her back to Gulnia, it then being late summer and still warm. But now it served her quite well. The green cloth had been tailored to be loose on her old frame, but it fit close enough now not to hamper her movement while she wore it, preserving her modesty in the process. The only problem she could see was that now, with her legs bent back like a wolf's, the robe would blow open easily with the slightest breeze. But that would be remedied when she put her belt with its twin daggers on over it. Smiling to herself, she picked up the leather belt and clasped it at her waist, pulling it snug.

Here was another odd thing. Before she had met Galen, she would never even have considered wearing a weapon at all, but now, she could not imagine being without them. She had gotten so used to their presence, their familiar, comforting weight, that she felt almost naked without them. It had been a hard learned lesson too. She knew now that she needed to be prepared to fight wherever she went, even here, within the stone walls of a castle. At last satisfied with her appearance, she strode from her chambers at an easy pace, heading for the gardens.

As she walked, she passed a dozen or so servants and guards, and all of them looked on her with amazement and little fear. She could well understand that. Though everyone seemed to have accepted that there were now two 'good' werewolves in the castle, they did not seem comfortable with them walking around amongst them in their transformed state. However, as she continued her walk, she soon stopped even noticing the passersby. Something far more interesting had caught her attention. She hadn't noticed it at first, but, with every breath, it grew more and more apparent. It wasn't only her sight that was better now. She could detect dozens of scents where before there had been none, each one unique and separate, more than she had ever scented at once before, but she didn't feel at all overwhelmed, as she had expected to. Instead, her mind sorted the different odors out from one another one by one, filing them away by instinct, and she knew that if she closed her eyes, she could follow any of the scent trails to its owner if she so desired, ignoring all others in the process. Shaking her thoughts back to what she was doing, she passed out from the keep and into the bright sunshine of the gardens of the castle once more.

Drawing in deep breath of sweetly scented air, Julianna smiled. When she had first arrived with Galen, the gardens had been beginning to wilt with the coming cold, the flowers reaching the end of their life span. But now, with the ashes of a thousand demons scattered among them, they appeared to have taken on a new life, drawing strength from the fallen beasts. Every tree and flower in the gardens was bursting with new growth, defying the lateness of the year. Something good had come of that attack after all.

Walking with a slow pace, Julianna wandered the cobbled paths of the gardens, remembering all the times she and her sister had walked here when they were children. While she strolled, she kept an eye out for her father, but she could not see him anywhere in the sprawling gardens. However, when she closed her eyes, she could smell the path he had taken, her feet carrying her along behind him. She could almost see him walking before her with her eyes closed, hear the swish of his royal cloak, the rustle of the velvet and satin that he always wore. Soon, she found herself walking the paths of the hedge maze, the towering bushes laying their shadows over her path, almost cutting off the sunlight. With a shiver, she remembered just how close she had come to being caught by the demons in this place. Picking up her pace to counter her discomfort, she walked on, following the distinct scent trail of her father. To her surprise, she soon realized that, of all the destinations that one could go to through the maze, it was leading her unerringly towards the fountain in the center of the maze. Though her father had commanded that it be created in memory of her mother, she could not recall him ever going there, not in all the years since her death.

Soon, she emerged from the shadows of the maze, walking out into the warm sunlight of the maze's center, gazing upon the small garden of roses and violets once more. And there, seated on a bench facing the fountain, was her father. The proud monarch sat staring into the waters of the fountain, motionless and silent, as if he had become no more than a statue. No one else was anywhere near the small garden, and even the song of the birds was quiet and distant. The only sound was the constant burbling of the waters of the fountain as it traveled down its stony course to the pool and back up again to the top. As she walked slowly into the clearing, Julianna got the disconcerting feeling that she were walking into a place that was beyond time and the concerns of the mortal world; some realm touched by powerful magic, a realm where one might stay forever, watching the rest of the world go by around them. With every step forward, she felt as if the world were growing more and more distant behind her, every footstep towards the fountain and the king carrying her deeper and deeper into the mysterious realm. As she grew nearer, she noticed that something about her father's appearance had changed, something that it had taken her a while to see. He was still clad in burgundy and blue satin, as he always was, but he had set his crown beside him on the bench, the jewels set into the golden circlet twinkling in the sunlight, something he had never before done. It seemed as if he were symbolically laying aside his title, setting aside his responsibilities; becoming a normal man, if only for a while. Wary, Julianna approached her father, finally stopping behind him.

"You asked to see me father?" She asked and he looked up, seemingly startled out of his thoughts, turning to face her. When he saw that she was in her wolfish form, he looked her up and down appraisingly and then smiled.

"Yes I did." He finally said, gesturing to the bench beside him. "Will you sit with me?"

"Alright." Julianna replied, surprised at this change. He had always told her to do things, and expected her to obey without question. He had never before asked her to do anything, and she didn't quite know how to react. Shaking off her hesitation, she seated herself on the bench, her father beside her, the golden crown between them, and the fountain bubbling away quietly before them. The pair sat in silence for a little while, and Julianna saw that her father had returned to staring into the fountain contemplatively, obviously in the grips of some deep seated emotion.

"Julianna, I wanted to talk to you alone, before you left again." The king finally said, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. His voice was quiet, almost weary in tone. "I wanted to tell you something, something I should have said a long time ago." He paused and looked up at the apex of the fountain once more, watching the water's graceful flow. "When your mother fell ill and died, it nearly destroyed me. I couldn't bear the thought of living without her, so I avoided thinking about anything that reminded me of her. I am sorry to say, that you and your sister were among those things. Especially you." He paused, a sorrowful look coming to his face. After a moment, he smiled a slight smile and continued. "You looked so much like your mother that it made me feel like my heart had been ripped out just to look at you. Every time I saw you, all I could think of was how it had felt when I lost her. So, I sent you away, far away, where you could not remind me of what I had lost. I thought I would finally be able to put it in my past, but in doing so, I lost much more. I missed seeing you grow from the girl you were to the beautiful woman you are. And I missed what you meant to me. It took nearly losing you for me to realize it. And I will always regret the way I treated you." The monarch turned to his daughter, his eyes misting with tears. "I know I have no right to ask you for this, but I could not bear the thought of having you go without at least trying. I know you will probably never forget what I did, but I beg your forgiveness for it all the same. I have always loved you more than I could show."

Julianna was astonished at the change that seemed to have been worked in her father. All her life, he had been sort of distant, seeming to be content to let her mother raise her. He had seemed to love her well enough, doting upon her as well as she had expected from him. But all that had changed when her mother had died. He had grown almost cold, callous to her and her younger sibling. It had never occurred to her that it was his way of grieving for her mother, to whom he had been devoted above all. And, at first, when she had been sent away to the temple to train in the priesthood's ways, she had resented it mightily. But gradually, as the time had passed, she had found herself growing to love the temple. The priests and priestesses had treated her with a kindness that not even her mother had shown her, treating her as an equal and she had soon found a great satisfaction in the simple life they lived. If she had not been sent away to the temple, she would never have experienced all of that, would never have become the person she was now. And, what was more, she would never had met Galen, never would have experienced the life he lived, the life she now desired to live alongside him.

"Father," she began, looking at him once more. "You don't need to ask for my forgiveness. I forgave you long ago."

Smiling in happiness, the aging monarch drew her into a hug, holding her close, fur and all. She returned the embrace gratefully, feeling an immense warm feeling well up within her as she did so. Unnoticed by either of them, the golden crown of Gulnia, with all its fine glittering jewels, slipped from the stone bench, landing gently in the grass at their feet, forgotten. The embrace lasted several long moments more, then, father and daughter pulled back from the embrace. When they separated at last, the king of Gulnia gently caressed a lock of her fine brown hair, moving it so it framed his daughter's wolfish face, smiling gently.

"My beautiful daughter," he said, wiping at his tears. "To have seen you again after all this time, to have been given a second chance to tell you all I should have, was something beyond my meager hopes when you were taken. And now, you are going away again. I will miss you, my dear. But I take comfort in knowing that you will be safe. Though a demon hunter is not what I would have chosen for you, Galen is exactly the kind of man you deserve. Or werewolf, I suppose."

Julianna smiled at her father's jest and sat back, watching him. He seemed to be an entirely different man than he had been even a day ago. After a moment, he leaned down and slowly plucked the crown from the grass. Letting it rest in both palms, he stared at it for a few moments, then sighed wearily and placed it upon his brow, drawing himself up straight once more before looking at his daughter again.

"You know, I may be the king of a great nation," he began, hauling himself to his feet. "But for all I have done, in the end, it is worth very little compared to what the Slayers do every day. I guess, as one nears the end of his life, he looks back on all he might have done and did not, and despairs." Julianna could think of no reply to this, and followed her father to her feet, laying a hand upon his arm. His kindly face was lined with age, and sorrow, but it swiftly faded, his features becoming hearty and strong once more. He smiled at her and laid his hand on top of hers gently. "I am sorry Julianna. Do not let an old man's musings bother you. Please, give it no more thought."

The young werewolf princess nodded, giving him a smile and the pair walked back through the gardens towards the castle, side by side...

***

Aldric's blade wove glittering arcs through my sight as he spun it in an elegant figure eight pattern, the sun reflecting brilliantly along its burnished edge. I set myself into fighting position in response, my own longsword held before me, its blade covering my chest. My brother grinned at me and increased the speed of his spins, his eyes never wavering from my own gaze. The handful of Slayers he had brought with him when he returned to the castle sat on benches or leaned against the wall across the courtyard from us, watching every movement. Their own blades were drawn, but they had finished their sparring a while ago, now cleaning or sharpening their blades as they sat. We Slayers had been taught to spar with one another when we stayed in one place for any length of time; or if we were alone, work through the sword exercises we had learned during our long years of training, so our skills never dulled. And now, though a battle raged on in the neighboring country, it was far too late for us to join it. By the time we would arrive, the battle would be long over. So instead, we dueled, practicing, honing our skills to take our minds off the battle our brother Slayers were fighting, somewhere over the horizon.

All of sudden, without any sign he was making his move, my brother's weave of glittering metal changed. In a flash, his blade was arcing in towards my right side, coming in high. As fast as lightning, I replied to his strike, catching it on the flat of my own sword, my wrist already twirling my sword down low, taking his second blow near to the same spot on the blade. With a swift motion, I twisted, moving his blade out of position and lunging forward. It was a standard movement, one we both had practiced countless times until it was automatic. His response was just as swift, and just as practiced, parrying my lunge, spinning away from the blow and out to the side, making me adjust to match him. To anyone who did not know better, it must have looked as if we were really dueling. But the truth was, we were performing the countless moves and countermoves that made up the Slayer style of sword fighting. Granted, we were both combining the movements in new patterns, but they were still like to steps in an endless martial dance, repeated over and over.

Smiling at him in return, I launched into a three part slashing attack, stepping through with the first cut, spinning into the second and advancing another pace with the third. Aldric replied with perfect precision, stopping each blow and retreating slowly, keeping the distance between us. Then, his blade started the assault anew, arcing down from on high, then abruptly changing direction to strike at my legs I deflected the strike and the duel continued, an endless array of strikes, blocks and parries, every movement familiar, every one performed flawlessly, with expert precision, and fast enough for our limbs to be only blurs as we moved. Finally, we froze in place, our blades held out towards one another, the points separated by the barest fraction of an inch, our free hands held up in a gesture of warding. We held that pose for a moment before sheathing our blades in near unison and bowing to each other in respect.

The gathered Slayers murmured approvingly, but another sound caught my attention. A single pair of hands were clapping, solo applause that sounded loud over the quiet murmurs. Turning in surprise, I found Julianna standing in the courtyard behind me, clothed in a noblewoman's hooded robe of emerald green. Smiling, I walked over to her and pulled her into a hug, gently kissing her forehead. When we separated, I led the way over to the fountain in the corner of the stone courtyard, the duel having left me thirsty.

"What was that you were doing?" Julianna asked as we walked. "It was obvious you weren't really trying to hit each other. And, if I didn't know better, I would have thought all of that was planned out."

"It is called Tolon's Dance." I replied, dipping my hands into the basin before the fountain. "It is a daily exercise named for the first Slayer swordmaster that all Slayers learn early in our training. It teaches a swordsman to have discipline and precision when fighting. Every strike has a specific counter, and in order to keep the fight even, you have to use each one correctly, otherwise you will soon lose. A true Dance always ends in a draw, neither swordsman victorious."

"I didn't know the Slayers were so precise." Julianna commented as I removed my baldric and splashed my head and neck with the cool water. While the water flowed through my fur, one of my ears twitched, turning toward the corridor leading into the rest of the castle. Two more pairs of footsteps were coming from within it and I turned to look at who it might be, wiping water from my eyes. All the Slayers in my brother's party were here already, and we had asked not to be disturbed.

A moment later, I saw that it was one of the castle servants leading a priest of Auré, dressed in a traveling cloak. As the green and gold robed man entered the courtyard, I caught a whiff of leather and the distinctive odor of horse from him. His manner of dress, coupled with his scent told me all I needed to know to guess that he was an errand rider. My guess was confirmed a moment later when he walked up to my brother and bowed deeply, holding out a folded missive, closed with the wax seal of the priesthood. Plucking my baldric from where I had left it, I walked over to where Aldric stood, Julianna behind me.

"The battle in Reyan is over." He said, his voice heavy and his eyes seeming distant, as if he were looking over the many miles that separated him from the rest of the Slayers he had commanded.

"What happened?" I asked, fearing the worst.

"The demons were slain with minimal casualties among the Slayers and priests." He replied and I cocked my head to the side, confused.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Julianna asked, seeming as confused as I did.

"Of course it is." Aldric answered, but his eyes were still downcast. "But that isn't what I am thinking about. Galen, in all your travels, have you ever known demons to behave like this?"

"No, actually, I haven't." I replied, suddenly understanding what my brother was worried about.

"What are you two talking about?" Julianna asked, surprised at our expressions, and several of the other Slayers nodded in agreement with her. I smiled slightly and explained.

"In all the history of our order, most of the fighting has been between small groups of Slayers and comparatively small bands of demons." I began, stroking my chin absently in thought. "Pitched battles involving hundreds of Slayers and thousands of demons are very rare events. In fact, our whole history, stretching back thousands of years, only records seven such encounters." I paused, a feeling of foreboding rising within my mind once more as I thought about recent events. The wolf within me stirred restlessly, its senses wary at my discomfort. "And now, two such battles have happened within weeks of each other. What is more, the second attack shouldn't even have taken place, since we foiled the plot by the demons before it began, or at least, I thought we had."

"I can't shake the feeling that there is something else happening here. Something bigger, something we aren't seeing." Aldric said. I nodded in agreement and he looked over at me. "Galen, I must go to the ruling council and report this. I think it would be best if you two came with me." Julianna looked at him in surprise and he continued, seeing her expression. "There is no such thing as coincidence where the demons are concerned. Whatever is happening here, you two are almost certainly at the heart of it." Nodding in reluctant agreement, I looked over at Julianna. Though her mind seemed to be divided, part of it far away, considering something else, she nodded in confirmation.

"Alright, we will go." I said. Aldric nodded and the Slayers sheathed their blades, rising to gather their equipment.

Julianna and I would have to retrieve our packs from her chambers as well, though I was somewhat reluctant to do so. Though I acknowledged the necessity of going with my brother, I was very reluctant about the journey ahead. Going before the council meant going to the one place I thought I would never see again, perhaps the most dangerous place in the whole of the world for one of my kind. It was a massive fortress, built around a temple to Auré, a place collectively called The Slayerhold, though it was essentially a small, self-sufficient city. It was a place where the very ground had been consecrated by the priesthood, where all Slayers were trained from childhood; where our ruling council sat in conference, directing our efforts in the war.

The last time I had been there, I had been but a novice officer fresh from training. Now, I was a veteran Hunter, one of the deadliest members of the Slayers of Auré. But what worried me, what truly gave me pause, was I was also a werewolf. To the other Slayers, especially the initiates, I was an enemy, walking into a place where hundreds of people would no doubt try to kill me on sight. All the same, there was one glimmer of hope. My father, the man who had insisted I be allowed to live even after I had been bitten, now called Slayerhold home. He alone had a hope of convincing the order to leave me and the woman I loved alive. So perhaps it would be worth facing so many Slayers after all...