Chapter 57 – The Truth About the Ritual
Walter watched the flames dancing in a slow rhythm: deep reds and yellows melting into soft oranges like a dying sunset. The fireplace—carved from massive black stone—stood imposingly in the immensity of that vast room, whose polished porcelain walls and floors reflected every flicker of light, creating an atmosphere of immaculate white.
Titus, oblivious to the tension, admired the Viking relics displayed inside the glass cases, while Bruno kept a discreet but vigilant eye on Walter.
"I made tea and cookies for us," Cristal announced.
The young man, now sunk into the gigantic white velvet sofa that perfectly matched the rest of the decor, waited for Cristal to set the tray on the table.
"Walter," she began, her voice loaded with restrained urgency, "I need to know what happened. Why did you decide to make me like you? And what exactly is the life of a werewolf supposed to be?"
Cristal exhaled slowly, taking on the responsibility of the explanation, her voice somber.
"Listen… when those beasts attacked," she began, "my brother and I didn't truly know what they were. We were just as shocked and terrified as everyone else. They were just omegas—the lowest class in the lycanthrope hierarchy."
She paused, looking at Bruno, who nodded with a stone‑hard expression.
"We had to act immediately. We transformed to fight them, but there were too many, and they appeared from erratic positions. In the middle of the battle, my brother and I reached the same conclusion—the only possible one, Walter: those creatures were strains of the Professor. Experimental and incomplete copies."
Her eyes darkened as she continued.
"And honestly, we had no idea you had been attacked until the moment we found you. You were lying on a massive pool of blood; your shoulder was gone, and the stump hung limp. You had already lost consciousness from the massive hemorrhage."
She sighed.
"And even if we wanted to take you to the hospital, the blood loss was so extreme that you would have died on the way… or the moment they touched you. We had no alternative, Walter. It was that… or leave you to die."
Walter listened with absolute focus, his thoughts racing at breakneck speed.
"I understand," he said at last, with a firmer tone. "Thank you for the honesty… please continue. I need to know more."
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Hook: But something in the darkness was already moving, ready to change everything…
Chapter 58 – Return to the Lounge
The lounge of the twins' mansion, immaculate and enormous, now felt oppressive. The atmosphere had become heavy, saturated with a palpable tension that vibrated between the silences of the conversation.
Walter watched the flames dance in a slow rhythm; intense reds and yellows that slowly transmuted into orange hues, like dusk. The fireplace, carved from solid black stone, rose imposingly within the vast space.
On one wall of polished porcelain tile, which reflected every light, hung a solemn banner bearing the symbol of two joined moons—the ancestral emblem marking Cristal and Bruno as members of their clan.
Titus, visibly attentive, observed Walter's reaction and the seriousness on the twins' faces, while Bruno maintained a discreet vigilance.
"Walter," Titus inquired, his voice heavy with restrained urgency, "I need to know what happened. Why did you decide to make me like you, and what is life as a werewolf supposed to be like?"
Cristal nodded with a seriousness equal to the tension in the room.
"Yes, Walter. I'll try to answer your questions as best as I can."
She paused dramatically, remembering the moment.
"Once the decision was made, we proceeded with the ritual." Her voice became a firm whisper. "I ordered Titus to bite his wrist deeply, and let the golden blood fall directly into your mouth. You had to drink it, absorb it… enjoy it."
Walter frowned, perplexed. "Why did he have to bite himself? Wouldn't it have been easier to just cut himself with a knife or a blade?"
Cristal shook her head, her eyes fixed on him.
"No. It can't be done with a cut. If it isn't performed through a bite, the ritual simply won't work, and we would've been exposed to a terrible risk. There is a real possibility you could have become one of those mindless omegas, driven only by animal instinct—or worse, that you'd suffer a half‑transformation and end up reduced to an inert mass of deranged muscle and fur."
She explained with solemnity: "The bite is crucial. In our lineage, in our saliva, we carry a unique hormone—the wolf hormone. This, mixed with the blood, makes a pure and controlled transformation possible."
Walter leaned back in his seat, his face pale with the truth he already suspected.
"The bite… the hormone… alright. I understand the technique. But what did I feel? I woke up here alive, but broken. What hell did I go through in that darkness? Tell me the truth, Cristal. Was it quick, or was it… the kind of agony that destroys your soul?"
Cristal swallowed, her eyes clouded by the memory.
"It was anything but quick, Walter. Titus's blood isn't just an antidote; it's a venom that rewrites your genetic code. The moment you swallowed it, the ritual began tearing you apart. You didn't feel mere pain; it was the sensation of every cell in your body being on fire, fighting against a golden invader."
"We could smell the change—the stench of hot iron and sulfur emanating from your skin as your bones began to creak and fracture from the inside. Your screams… they were guttural, prehuman, promising irreversible madness. We watched your skin tear open as fur burst out like needles, pushing and ripping the flesh."
"It was a dark birth, Walter, and the only reason you kept your sanity is because Titus's blood was pure."
Cristal leaned forward, her intense gaze refusing to look away.
"There are rules you must follow, and one of them you're not going to like at all."
Walter interrupted, desperation throbbing in his voice: "What are you talking about, Cristal? Before you explain, I have more questions."
Cristal sighed, her patience stretched. "Fine. What's your question?"
Walter pressed urgently: "How is Titus? Is he one of you? Did you turn him? Was it in his genes? What exactly happened?"
Cristal took a moment. "Okay… how do I explain this… it's complicated."
Walter raised his voice, each syllable loaded with resentment. "What do you mean complicated? Explain it! I'm not understanding anything about this nightmare!"
Cristal responded with her head bowed, overwhelmed by the complexity of the truth.
"It's just that… he always was, and we also turned him. It's in his DNA."
She lifted her hand before Walter could interrupt.
"You're right, it's complicated, but what I'm about to tell you is the truth. Not even Titus knows more than you do at this moment. I'll give you the information you need to understand what we are."
She focused on the crucial part of their shared horror.
"As for the answer to 'we turned him,' remember the beating he suffered at the hands of Melanie, Ken, and their lackeys. It was an act of sadism beyond the physical. He had every rib reduced to splinters, two of them piercing his lung in a macabre act of internal destruction; he was suffering internal bleeding that was slowly draining him; his skull was fractured in a fatal pattern, and bruises covered his body like a canvas of torture. One leg was pulverized."
Cristal finished with a heavy voice, as if the memory were suffocating her:
"There wasn't a single hospital in the world that could've saved Titus from that annihilation. Just like with you—we had to perform the rite; it was the last nail in his human coffin to save him."
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Hook: What came next would be impossible to stop…