The evil the Empire breeds will be dealt with, even if it means going against my promise.

I stand, panting, before the village and rogue Shifters, glaring up at the jingoist commander who calls for our heads.

Sir Rey recoils, his eyes widening and mouth parting in an O. The Shifters and Were who have not seen this form cower before me, and a part of me wants to scrunch up my shoulders and try to hide this form that is anything but natural.

But another part will hide no longer. I am who I am and those around me need... they need a monster to survive the coming war. They need something to even the odds.

It's time to be the difference. Something more. To embrace what made me a monster; to accept what made me powerful. And to use my power to free Avidon from the scourge of evil.

Pa’s words come back to me from our last meeting.

Evil triumphs when good men do not act.

I am unsure if I am truly good. But one thing I am sure of is that I can’t do any worse than the Emperor or my cousin. And Allfather help me, I hope to do better.

Before this night is over, blood will be on my hands.

Good. You are finally coming to your senses, Cynic says, sounding a bit too relieved for comfort.

You wish me to kill?

I wish you to stop pretending that you can protect without killing. There comes a time when sacrifice must be made for the greater good.

As much as I hate to admit it and I don't agree with how he phrased it... I agree that to protect those around me, there will be sacrifice.

Somehow, that thought curdles my stomach, and I realize I have become cold despite the fur layering every inch of my body.

Something's coming. And I'm not sure I'm strong enough to handle it.

Barry whoops from the top of a building where he had been clocking Shifters in the head with his slingshot. How he made it up there from Flash's back, I do not know.

I also don’t know what I was thinking when I gave that kid a weapon.

His mother is going to kill me.

The Were who have seen me like this come behind me, willing to fight with me. The Imperial, Flash, Zephora. Others I cannot name.

But then the Imperial looks back and his mouth shuts with a snap and I hear the grinding of his teeth.

I glance behind me, and what I see makes my body twitch. More purple-cloaks come behind us, penning the village between the vast river with the roaring waterfall and a solid rise on the other side that would be near-impossible climb. They keep pouring from the woods in the same direction I originally came from Videlia.

Someone betrayed us. And I have a feeling I know who.

But I turn my mind back to the men who are up the hill, in the woods across the Berserk clearing.

The Imperial meets my eyes. I nod, jerking my head in the direction of the many jingoist who are the biggest threat to the village.

The Imperial smacks his fist against his chest and a cry comes from his lips that ends with a click in the back of his throat.

The Were turn, snarling and hissing, many in cat form, some in human. Even the children prepare to fight. I may loathe them for putting children in danger to teach self-defense and survival skills, but it comes in handy in situations such as this to know the children can and will fight.

It gives us all a chance to survive.

Sir Rey's Shifters look between me and the Were behind us, who get ready to battle those pouring into the village from the opposite end. We are near the Imperial's hut, the biggest one in the center of the village, and on a small rise itself so it may look out upon the wilds all around coated in gleaming snow and a blanket of purple and grey steel on one side and a Commander on the other.

I meet Sir Rey's eyes, and I see the distrust. I see the fear.

But I don't have time to be hurt by it.

"Go with the Were. I have this side," I say, my voice a low snarl from a throat not quite meant for human words.

He nods, bowing his head.

It may seem foolhardy, even prideful, to take the other side alone. But I would rather have no one at my back than one who may stab me in the back.

I lean forward in my half-wolf form, snarling with one hand on the ground.

Then I leap forward, keeping the Jingoist Commander in my sight. There's something about him. Something familiar. Something confident and haughty.

Something I do not like.

I come to a dead end. This large building is the hall where Flash likes to hide on the roof.

My claws sink into the crackly mud-like outside of the round hut. I scale it with ease, and I'm liking this form more and more with every moment. When I get to the top, I tilt my head back and roar; the sound echoing from the mountains long after I snap my jaws shut.

The Commander merely stands there, a grin on his face, halfway into the Berserk field that is on a hill just above the Were village where my friends are fighting for their lives.

I leap clear of the building, slide down another, jump a trough filled with freezing water, and land at the beginning of the Berserk field, creating a small crater as blackness seeps from me in a haze.

I lope up the incline, feeling a righteous rage and not quite caring if I look a bit deranged.

The jingoist spread out with the commander still at the point, but more have come from behind him. A good hundred, at least.

He watches me. Arrows are primed to take me down. He drops his hand.

I watch as if in slow motion as the men release arrow after arrow, dodging them with an ease I thought impossible—even for me.

I pull myself up short inches from the commander. He watches me with calm eyes, and I see a flash of challenge. The musky, steel-like scent of Shifter meets my nose and I recoil, growling low in my throat.

His lips pull into a grin. “So we meet again, Wolf-King. Did you truly think yourself far enough from the Leader of the Empire to escape the consequence of your actions?” He tsks, shaking his head sadly. And I know when he says Leader, he does not mean the Emperor.

I wonder now if the Emperor is more a puppet on his throne than even he knows.

Something hits my nose, and it twitches. My ears prick on my forehead and the fur on the back of my neck bristles.

No. My hands tingle with fear. My skin ices over and my heart beats a painful rhythm as the Yellow Master gestures behind him.

Two men shove a man forward. His head hangs forward, as if he is too weak to raise it. His robes of office, usually pristine and without wrinkle, are tattered, much like the body beneath.

Pa.

He hangs limply between two of the men, his face pale and battered.

Red coats my vision. A growl rips from me that shakes the dirt at our feet, scaring bramble bees from the thickets.

A step and then another draws me forward when one of the men pulls a knife, placing it on my father’s throat. He draws blood with the next step, and I freeze, lifeblood pooling on the divot where the point of the knife pierced flesh and a groan comes from Pa’s pale and chapped lips.

The Yellow Master, Jaypic, walks around me, looking me up and down with greedy eyes.

“We did not know of this. Had we known, you would’ve been dead long ago. But now you are more useful to us alive. Release the wolves,” he Commands, but I am stronger than him and brush it off as if his Alpha is a mere pesky fly.

He nods to the men holding Pa. One takes a knife and carves right below Pa’s eyelid. He struggles with more strength than I thought he had, but yet… the men are stronger. Blood makes a scarlet path down my father’s cheek to drip from his chin with soft patters that sound loud to my ears.

“WAIT!” I shout, my voice guttural with both pain and an instinct—an instinct from my wolf. Something indescribably rending, something I have not felt since the death of my brother, makes my heart feel as if it’s being stabbed. Over and over.

The knife pauses in the jingoist's hand, and he looks over at Yellow.

Yellow holds up his hand, watching me.

I release the hold I have on the wolves, and they growl as screams arise from behind me, tearing into those who I swore to protect.

I close my eyes and bow my head when it becomes too heavy for my shoulders.

A tear leaks from my eye to trail down my muzzle.

Yellow wipes the tear from my fur, sadness pulling at his brow as he watches me. “How the mighty have fallen. I wish you would’ve chosen differently, brother.”

He places a hand on my shoulder, and I do not move as he shoves a knife into my ribs, piercing my lung.

I howl in pain, but dare not move lest the man before me take it as a threat. The silver in the dagger threads its way through me, and slowly, painfully, my wolf retreats, leaving me a man standing before a monster.

And for once, I am not the monster here.

“I give you one last chance. Leave Videlia to her fate. You would only die trying to protect her, and the people there and here must die for what they know. If you want your precious family to make it through this war, you will surrender. Your adopted father will be given a pardon of his many crimes and will be reunited with his beautiful wife.” He pauses, backing away and going to Pa.

Pa squints at Yellow, something in his eye I cannot name.

Then he lets his head fall, as if he is too weak to hold his head up for long. The blood creates a crimson stain in the snow beneath his feet.

Yellow grabs him by his greying, greasy hair and pulls his head back up.

“What did you see in him? How could you have betrayed everything just to follow a weakling like him?” Yellow asks, his voice genuine in confusion as sorrow and pain wafts from the assassin. The trickling of blood down the side of Pa’s face makes my heart ache worse than the silver knife still in my ribs.

Yellow shakes his head and drops Pa’s head.

“Come with me, Bloodfang. It is the only way to save your adopted father and mother,” he spits out the word adopted like a curse. He turns, hands behind his back, watching me. His lips split into a grin. "And those you care for," he says, jutting his chin in the direction of the Were village.

I turn my muzzle, panting as I try to hold my knees steady. Bile burns the back of my throat.

I see the enslaved Shifters behind all those in Jishul, claws, knives, and any other sharp object pointed at the throats of the villagers and my Shifters alike.

The jingoist stand behind the enslaved Shifters, their purple capes snapping in the wind as clouds cover the sun.

"So what do you choose, hmm? Life—or Death?"

Pa lifts his head with effort, a gentle smile pulling at his lips despite the sorrow in his eyes.

“I am proud of you,” he whispers.

My soul shatters.

The world fades away, until all I see is his knowing eyes and the way he trembles in pain and weakness, but the peace on his face is what takes my breath.

“Do what needs done.” His words are barely a breath on the wind. A sigh released from lungs that know the end is near.

I scream as blackness seeps from me, and Yellow takes a step back from the blackness pooling at my feet.

“What—?”

I do not give him the chance to know what is coming. I don’t give myself the chance to choose differently.

I must buy lives with Death. I must kill to save.

I must die to myself to protect those I care for.

Sacrifice.

Even as the person I’ve become withers inside me and the numbness of the assassin brings forth to bear what I cannot, the tearing pain in my soul is near unbearable and rips another broken cry from my lips.

Tears stream down my face unhindered, the wound in my side causing a froth to bubble from my lips.

Pa nods, that gentle smile and proud gleam never leaving his face.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth. He nods in acceptance, bowing his head to await what will come.

The Beast bursts from me, sucking in the surrounding trees, and then pushing them out with a blast that levels this part of the woods for a mile in all directions.

I feel it reach out and drain lives and burn flesh from muscle. I hear the crack of bones and the screams of the dying.

I feel it spread to those in the village behind me, somehow see the jingoist below dropping their weapons and stumbling back, racing from the village and into the trees. I see the Were and Shifters quavering in fear, cowering before the blackness that seems to absorb the light. But it does not touch those I care for, slithering around them in search of those who came to harm.

It brushes against an enslaved Shifter, and the Shifter doesn't move even as the tendril burns his cheek.

I hiss out a breath, clenching my fists.

Not. Them, I think, trying to pull it back and keep it from harming innocents. Again.

It recoils from the Shifter it burned, slithering on.

I can't control it as the blackness seeks out those who run, snuffs out their lights one by one. Their screams, although miles away, ring in my ears and delight The Beast within me. He gets greedy, sucking up the souls and licking his lips for more.

Let. Them. GO! I scream, pulling back with all my might, tugging on something deep within and stopping the blackness in its tracks.

It moans, but abruptly complies, letting the terrified men retreat into the trees.

As I return to myself, everything seems oddly... off. Sounds are numbed, as if coming from far away, and my entire body is wracked with pain that I do not know whether it comes from the silver in my bloodstream or using The Beast to kill.

It feels as if thousands of tiny needles stab into my soul, and I do not think that is the silver.

As if from far away, I hear animals scream in fear and pain. The trees groan, some cracking at the pressure of the explosion, splintering before crashing into the ground with loud booms that echo off the mountains.

And in that blast, I send a Command to the Shifters behind me, to those holding Jed, Barry, Flash, Essie, and others who I cannot name but have seen their smiling faces as they danced and the determination as they fought beside me.

I have become what I feared.

I have become the killer I tried to fight.

I fall to a knee before the river of Death.