Protected: THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10 (18+ Story)
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10
Surganah arrived without warning. His cloak billowed behind him like a storm cloud, his crimson eyes glowing with malice.
With a guttural snarl, he crashed through the wooden walls of their home, slashing the throat of the father, Calven, before the man even had time to transform.
The boy screamed, only for his cry to be silenced by the brutal impact of Surganah’s clawed hand tossing him across the room like a ragdoll.
“Disobedience,” Surganah said, his voice a gravel-coated snarl. “Deserves extinction.”
The mother, Reina, a beautiful werewolf healer, tried to plead for mercy.
“Please—my son—he’s just a boy—”
But she didn’t finish her sentence. Surganah pulled her to him, eyes gleaming with twisted delight.
“You dare speak?” he whispered, his claws tearing the fabric from her shoulders. “Then you shall serve.”
He molested her there, with the child’s corpse still warm on the floor. And when he was done, he left her broken, bleeding, and sobbing.
“I leave you alive,” he hissed in her ear. “So you can tell them—The One still reigns. You aren’t even sweet. Your cunt is too wide already already”.
He disappeared into the night as quickly as he came.
Farther down the coast, a group of young girls gathered around a fire, unaware that their laughter had reached the ears of monsters.
One of them, Lena, barely seventeen, was dared by the others to enter the forest for a moment and return with a wildflower as proof.
She was gone only minutes before a bloodcurdling scream brought the others running.
They found her clothes torn, her eyes wide with unspeakable terror, her body marked by claw and bite. She wasn’t dead—yet. But her innocence was taken. Surganah’s mark was seared into her flesh.
From the shadows, he watched the girls run screaming back to the village. He smiled. It pleased him to see their fear, to know their hearts now beat faster at the mere mention of darkness.
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10
Elsewhere, in the grand halls of a broken werewolf order, once a proud council, now a ruin, three surviving elders sat around flickering candles.
Their eyes were hollow, their faces gaunt. Among them was Old Miren, the last high seer of the Isle, her once-silver hair now matted and thin.
“He grows bolder,” she whispered. “He no longer hides in his lair. He ravages the open.”
“We must do something,” said Torvick, her companion. “If we wait—”
“There is no we,” interrupted Geran, the third. “There is only him.”
Miren stared into the flame. “Then something must come… something not of this island.”
And in the air around them, the candles flickered violently—as if the very spirits of the island shuddered at what was coming next.
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10
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