The Cursed Bruma

The night was cold, but the two werewolves staring at each other didn't seem to notice.

They were creatures that were half man and half wolf.

Creatures that everyone believed only existed in children's stories to scare children.

They were legends, yes. But they did exist, trying to survive in a world of mostly humans.

One of them, with gray fur, had its claws raised, tapping against each other, as if sharpening its sharp, enormous nails.

The other, with brown fur, snarled at his opponent, while other yellow eyes, like little beacons in the darkness, watched from a safe distance.

The brown-furred werewolf lunged forward to attack. He still didn't understand his opponent's superiority, and as soon as he got close, inevitably too close, the gray werewolf raised his claw with astonishing speed, even for a werewolf, and swiped with his claw at the other's face, and when he withdrew his claw, one of his quarry's eyes was stuck to his fingernail.

The werewolf threw the yellow eye on the ground and stomped on it.

They didn't surrender. The fight became bloodier after the moon began to light up and witnessed the struggle between them.

Both did not spare their claws from slashing their opponent's body, and did not miss the opportunity to see the blood squirt out. And the blood was splashing everywhere. They could no longer tell if the blood on their bodies belonged to them, or to their opponent. This was the most important fight. It would define who would hold the leadership of the werewolves and they were both committed.

When the moonlight faded, the fight was over. They stared at each other, exhausted. The same question shone in each of their eyes. Who had won? They were young, for werewolves. The brown wolf was fifty and the gray one forty-eight. They still couldn't understand how the moon communicated with them. What caused the moon to withdraw its light and decide the winner? They stood still. Until they began to hear the sharpening of knives. First, just a few. Then all the werewolves together, their hands sharpening their claws, as they roared their cries of recognition.

The werewolves who fought understood. The brown werewolf raised his claws and began to sharpen them, and then the grey werewolf, recognizing that this was his family's habit, and that it would now belong to all the werewolves, howled loudly and was followed by everyone.

They returned to their human form.

Dester, a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes. And Allister, three centimeters shorter than Dester, with black hair and blue eyes. They were half brothers. The same father, but with different mothers. But they were almost identical, if their hair hadn't been different colors. They started walking back to the village, and Dester hugged Allister.

“You owe me an eye.” He said, and Allister smiled.

“Don't worry, your eye will regenerate, you should thank me, that eye didn't see very well anymore.”

They laughed.

Allister was the new leader of the werewolves. He had won this position after fighting all the strongest werewolves from each of the five packs. The winner, in addition to leadership, received the mission of being the guardian of the Alpha's heritage.

Until an Alpha was born, everyone had to obey and follow Allister.

Allister entered the house where his family was waiting anxiously to hear the result of the last fight that would guarantee him and his family greater financial stability and leadership. T  They entered the house together and noticed the flag with the Lens family insignia, which consisted of two gray wolves, crossed with a sword, with an amethyst on its handle, which they already knew the outcome of.

The celebration went well into the night. Allister looked at his mother. Her stern gaze was a warning. He couldn't stay married to Jasmine. Just because she was human. He felt sad. She had been his companion for almost thirty-nine years. He had cultivated a friendship with a family of humans that was not understood by his peers.

Her sincere, peaceful smile and naivety never ceased to be the trait of her personality that he loved most, and she never lost both. And she had announced that she was pregnant. He knew that the child wouldn't be a werewolf, but he kept it a secret until his death.  He couldn't tell, but in the last few months, after discovering Jasmine was pregnant, he understood that there was something different about her.

She appeared at the top of the stairs, along with that woman he hated. Brianna! She had been his brother's wife and had run away. Jasmine wouldn't leave her. Brianna looked at him with her incredible green eyes, frightened. Perhaps, now that she knew he was a leader? Brianna would agree to abandon the fragile human she had married and stay with him.

Jasmine stared at him with tears in her eyes. Her fateful countenance told him that her mother should have already arranged for her to leave. The king of the werewolves couldn't stay married to a human. He had to unite with a werewolf, who would bear his heir. Suzy was at his mother's side. He loved his wives. But Jasmine and he lived a love story that you don't find in books. He would never stop loving her.

She left after their son was born, but the romance between them lived on as long as she was alive. He didn't look the age he was, and perhaps that's why she had never asked him. When she turned forty, he realized that she was already looking older than he was.

Brianna delivered Jasmine. She took a frightened look at the baby in her arms before handing him over to Jasmine.

“Why are you looking at my son as if he's going to devour you, Brianna?”

“He's not a werewolf.”

“Is he like me?”

“No. He's much more powerful. He's dangerous, Jasmine. Maybe it would be better to let his father raise him.”

“Did you see something?”

“I saw a bloody war between vampires and werewolves. Started by two brothers.”

Jasmine understood. If Suzy had a son, he would be a werewolf and Brianna's prophecy would probably come true.

“Call Suzy. We'll both raise our children together. If they're friends, there won't be a war.”

“But you're going to Death Island.”

“I can fly, Brianna.”

...

When Suzy, three years later, was suffering the pains of childbirth, they heard loud howls, and approaching the window, they saw many wolves and werewolves outside the house. The elements were flying fiercely and lightning was striking the hundreds of werewolves who felt no pain. The moon shone as if it were the sun and its energy could be touched. There was no doubt. The Alpha was born that day.

Adam grew up protected and adored by all the werewolves. Allister was jealous of him and Suzy was afraid.

One day, when he was already five years old, she approached him with a mother's affection and asked him if he wanted a younger brother. And he gave her a cold, cutting look. A look that didn't match the age of a child. And his words were a self-fulfilling prophecy, and she could never stop feeling sorry for him. Whenever she looked at him in the years to come, she remembered those words.

“You're not going to have any more babies.”

On Death Island, Maxwell had just discovered what he was—and he was hungry.