Xeranad

Two weeks later… Ian sat at his desk in class, looking out the window as he let himself replay the events in his head. After Aria vanished, it didn't take long for the police to arrive. They did a thorough search of the scene, took his testimony, and even looked over the security footage… but if they found anything, they never told Ian about it. “O’Sullivan?” Professor Rohan McCarthy’s head, along with the bones of the monster he was forced to become, were cremated and sent back to Ireland by plane. “Mister O’Sullivan?” Doctor Daedalus Arkham has been absent from the University since Aria disappeared. While Ian had no proof of his involvement, he knew he had something to do with it. “Ian! Eyes up front!” Ian snapped back to reality, blinking repeatedly as he turned to face the professor. “Sorry, ma’am.” he apologized, looking forward as some of the class chuckled. The professor sighed, shaking her head. “Why don't you go out and make some copies? Give you a chance to clear

Aria stood, her silver blade in one hand, a faint smile on her face and steel in her eyes, as she faced the necromancer and his undead werewolf creation. Ian stood beside her, watching the scene play out in front of him… He looked at Aria, and noticed that her breathing was labored, and there was a faint tremor in her joints as she held herself into her fighting stance. Concern flashed across his face, an expression Aria caught from the corner of her eye, and her response was to turn and smile, her finger pressed to her lips, a silent request to not say anything. The necromancer chuckled, watching them with dull grey eyes. “Such bravado in the face of certain death… it's comical.” He raised his hand and snapped his finger. “Gevauden, kill them. Tear them limb from limb.” The beast shuffled forward, before it began to cough, blood pouring from its jaws as its snarls turned to whines. The necromancer turned towards it, confused and irritated. “What the hell is wrong with you? You are

“Ian, run!” Aria shouted as the hands pulled her down against the tile floor. The creature looked at Ian, the green lights in its dark empty sockets gleaming with a ravenous hunger. It got down on all fours, its claws scraping the ground with a screech, leaving grooves in the tile, and the next moment it leapt through the air, its jaw open wide. Ian stumbled backwards, tumbling over and behind the operating table just as the undead beast’s jaws snapped shut where he had been a second ago and crashing against the pole holding the table up with a resounding clang. Ian scrambled back onto his feet and started running, his boots slamming into the floor beneath him with each step as he looked for a way to escape. The undead werewolf shook its skull head to clear its daze before launching after him, claws rending tile as it gave chase. —- Aria could do nothing but struggle against the hands that held her, pinning her to the floor as they wrapped around her limbs and started to pull. She

The black beast that was once MacCarthy loomed over Ian, hunger gleaming in its blood red eyes. The young Irishman sat rooted to the spot, hot tears streaming down his freckled cheeks. The creature lunged, extending its claw out to snatch Ian where he lay, when the air suddenly shifted and howled. It struck the monster square in the chest, knocking it backwards off of its feet and tumbling past the operating table it had once been strapped to. “Ian!” Aria yelled out, running up to him. She knelt down beside him, checking him over for any injuries. “Oh, thank God… you’re okay.” Ian stared up at her blankly, his mind racing with questions. “What? How? Why?” “I told you before… I won’t let what happened to me happen to anyone else if I can help it.” Aria responded, before turning away, facing in the direction the werewolf was thrown. It stood up, its eyes locked onto Aria, a guttural snarl emanating from its throat as it got down on all fours and began to circle around, looking for

The twilight slowly gave way to the dark of night as Ian drove his car into the parking garage near the University of Baltimore, his headlights beaming through the black gloom to reveal the concrete before them. The parking lot was mostly barren save for a few other cars, which Ian drove past as he navigated the garage, going higher up the incline. Aria looked around, raising an eyebrow as they passed empty spot after empty spot. “Ian, what are you doing?” “Looking.” He responded, before his eyes narrowed on a black car. “There… that’s Arkham’s car. I saw him driving it once while running errands for Professor MacCarthy.” Ian drove a bit further away before parking near the top of the garage, where the night sky greeted them with an almost completely black void save for the pure white glow of the full moon slowly creeping up the horizon. “Thank you for the ride, Ian.” Aria said, opening the car door and stepping out with an almost feline grace. “Wait here… I’ll be right back.” “Oh

Aria knelt down beside the earnings she had made busking, raking them into a bag made of leather. The coins glittered in the twilight rays, coloring them in shades of orange and purple. Ian stood nearby, still a bit dumbstruck by what Aria had told him earlier. “H-how do you know Professor MacCarthy? He never once mentioned you.” “Oh, I don’t know him personally.” Aria remarked, pushing herself upward off the concrete sidewalk after gathering the last of the day’s hard earned cash. “But he came to the States to help me in my investigation.” “Investigation?” Ian asked, before remembering what the Professor’s journal said. “You mean, this D character is a shared contact between you two?” Aria turned to look at him, her brow raised in surprise before softening into a grin. “That’s right. D is…” she began, before her face started to burn a bright pink. “Well, he’s my legal guardian, and MacCarthy was a business colleague of his. Whenever there was a mystery he couldn’t solve regarding

The full moon hung in the sky like a glistening fruit, peaking out from behind the clouds. The light cast through the openings illuminates a derelict church, the wooden frame barely standing, torn open like a rotting wound. Inside, a lone figure knelt in front of the altar, hands clasped in a silent, solemn prayer. White hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, reaching down to the rotting floorboards. Her clothing was simple: a white shirt that hung loosely from her shoulders, a black skirt slit along the right side, and a purple sash wrapped around her waist decorated with gold bangles. The sound of timber splintering echoed throughout the dilapidated chapel. A hairy beast, sharp teeth glistening with saliva in the moonlight, claws tearing grooves into the rotted floors, black fur poking out of torn linen and denim. A werewolf. The figure stood, her bare feet planted firmly on the creaking timber beneath her. She turned to face the creature, the moon revealing creamy brown skin