Avery’s POV
The torchlight flickered across the stone walls, illuminating the red paint. It had chipped and faded with time, but it was still there. Still depicting a life I didn’t remember.
There were multiple scenes—a village in the forest with people dancing in the square. A baby being born, lifted high above the priest’s head. Some kind of grand ceremony? And then… Disaster. Fire. Destruction. A child being stolen in the night by shadows in the shapes of wolves.
The paintings stopped after that, like a history half-written.
I recalled what little I knew of the Lycans from my education. They were often depicted as warring tribes, barbaric and uncivilized. The last ones had allegedly been taken out decades ago. Some scattered and became rogues. A few assimilated into the more modern
