Aside from mealtimes, nobody likes being in the tunnels during the day, so when I appear belowground with a bucket and cloth, Darius and I are surprised to see each other. With a smile, I hold up my bucket to answer his question about what I'm doing down there today. "Cleaning duty. Shouldn't you be at school?"

There are only around thirty kids in the village, but until the day they turn sixteen, they're stuck here like me. They spend most of the morning at school, where they're taught writing and reading in the tunnels, or if it's a nice day, in the patch of grass before the kitchen. I was never given that luxury. When I was a kid, Charles made me learn to cook while other kids were taught to write. He said I was good at it, and it'd be a waste not to take advantage of that.

"Mom's mad at me again." He sighs. "You know what that means—cleaning duty."

"What'd you do this time?"

He shrugs. "Aren't you usually on gardening?"

"I wanted a change of scenery."

He shrugs and wipes down the table. I've always liked Darius. He's only thirteen, so he hasn't hunted yet, and doesn't look down on me because I haven't either. Hunting is a rite of passage in the village—everyone, even Cynthia, participates every now and again. And it always happens the same way: When they're young, they're kind to me; and then they go on their first hunt. The next day, I'm a distant memory and lucky to receive a smile, as if being a hunter makes them so much better than me. The only one who's stuck around is Flo.

Darius smiles at me. "So, the creature. . . . Is that why you wanted to clean?"

"No." I look at the wall again and focus on the distant dripping of water.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

I keep my head down. Seeing the creature won't be worth it if Charles finds out.

"You wanna see it?" Darius asks.

"Really?"

"Yeah. They came down a while ago to attach the new chains."

"The new chains?"

"It broke through the old ones. These ones are silver, though. They seem to have an effect on it. Charles said I have to give it this medicine every hour to keep it alive, otherwise the silver will kill it." He shows me a syringe filled with a dark-red liquid. I eye it warily. This is why I came down here, but now that the offer is right in front of me I'm struck with hesitation. "Come on, Millie." Darius leans closer and the edges of his mouth tilt up. "Live a little."

"Okay."

"Let's go," he says, dropping the syringe in the bucket and turning down the hall. Taking a deep breath, I follow him. With the absence of people, the tunnels feel colder, darker. The glow from Darius's lantern crawls along the damp, narrow halls as we move. Sweat beads at the back of my neck; the farther we get from the entrance, the thicker the moisture in the air gets.

"It doesn't talk," Darius warns. "I don't even know if it can."

Each step feels like I'm breaking an invisible string that Charles has tied me to. The deeper we venture into the tunnels, the more my shoulders tense, and the more I want to turn around. Nobody goes this deep unless there's something wrong with the pipes, and there's only two people in the whole village who work on the pipes. I'll be punished if I'm found down here, but I can't ignore my nagging curiosity. These are the creatures that murdered my parents. They're horrendous, bloodthirsty beasts hell-bent on killing innocent humans, but I've never seen one. And though the idea terrifies me, I can't stop myself from following Darius around the corner.

"You'll see," Darius says, his voice a mere whisper. "It's nothing like I expected."

I grip his sleeve as if he can protect me from the dark shape forming in the corner of the room. My fists clench as I take a step forward. When we're young, we're told stories of the creatures—contorted bodies, pointed teeth, claws for hands, matted hair, and spiraled horns that point toward the moon. The creature faces us, hunched in the corner and crouched on its haunches. Dark, thick fur covers its frame—a large wolf-like creature with red eyes glowing like fireflies in the darkness. The air is thick with the taste of iron; scarlet blood coats the thick metal chains attached to the creature's neck.

"It's huge." When I speak, the creature looks at me.

"Ugly, isn't it?"

It looks stealthy and graceful and strong. The only savage thing about it are the bald patches of skin rubbed raw around its limbs. "It's nothing like I expected." Darius moves toward it but I grab his wrist. "What're you doing? Don't get too close."

"I have to give it the injection." He pries my hand from his wrist and creeps forward. The creature follows Darius with his eyes, terrifyingly still. I shiver.

"Are you sure this is safe?"

"I've done it before. It won't hurt me. It knows it will die without this." He reaches the creature and presses the needle into the mangled skin of its shoulder. "See?"

Before I can respond, a low growl echoes off the walls and suddenly the creature flies at Darius. I yank his arm and fall back, scrambling across the floor until my back is pressed against the wall. The creature strains against the chains as it reaches for us, its breathing ragged and heavy. It stands taller than either of us, with broad shoulders and an intimidating stature. It looks unworldly.

"Don't worry." Darius brushes his hands on his pants and helps me up. "It does that every so often. It's trying to scare us."

"I shouldn't have come down here."

"We can go," Darius says.

The creature makes a low, guttural sound. It unsettles me, and it has nothing to do with how it makes me want to run away. "I think that would be best."

I leave first, desperate to be aboveground, away from the frigid air and the stench of blood. Darius's hand slips into mine and he squeezes.

He'll come for me.

A chill creeps up my spine. The words come from behind us, low and gravelly. I don't stop myself from looking back. The creature still stands, an animal with a glowing glare. "Darius, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

My entire body goes rigid.

"Milena! Milena!"

Charles. The hunters were supposed to leave an hour ago, and Charles never stays behind. "We need to get out of here." I tug on Darius's arm. "Now."

But it's too late. Charles stands at the end of the tunnel wearing a murderous expression. He marches toward me and rips my hand from Darius's.

"What do you think you're doing?"

For the first time in my entire life, I'm afraid of Charles. He has scolded me plenty but never with such venom.

"Charles!" Darius's voice is excited. "She said it spoke but I heard nothing—"

My wrists sting where Charles's nails dig in. "What did you hear?"

"It said 'He'll come for me.'"

Charles shoves me aside and strides over to the creature. He picks up a long, metal pole with a sharp point and stands in front of it, a snarl on his face. "Who's coming?"

The growl emanating from the creature makes my hair stand on end, and I press myself farther into the wall. Charles jerks forward and shoves the metal pole into the creature's abdomen. It convulses around the pole and the room erupts with a body-shaking roar.

"Answer me!" Charles retracts the pole and the creature's lips lift to reveal sharp teeth.

"The one who rules the night." It looks at me, abdomen dripping with blood and voice filling my head. "And when he comes, you'll wish you were never born."

The inside of Charles's quarters reminds me of my bedroom—barren and void of personality. While bigger than my own, they consist of a small bed, a wooden desk, and a dresser with a missing knob. Standing in front of him with Darius, I wish there was something to look at to distract myself from Charles's wrath. "Do you understand how stupid you were today?" he scolds.

"Yes," Darius says, hanging his head. "I betrayed your trust. I shouldn't have taken Milena down there."

"No, you shouldn't have." Charles frowns. "Leave us, Darius. I'll deal with you later. You're going on your first hunt."

"What?" I demand. Nobody goes on a hunt before they turn sixteen. Nobody gets to know anything about it when they're as young as Darius.

"But, Charles, I'm only—I'm only thirteen."

"I've made up my mind. Now I'd like to speak to Milena." His voice is stern and cold. Darius doesn't move. "Alone."

"Of course." Darius nods and stumbles through the doorway.

We stand in tense silence. I can't stop thinking of the creature. Save for its bloodstained fur, it didn't look like a beast at all. But its eyes glowed. That thing was no wolf. "I'll instruct Cynthia to reassign you to gardening duty until your birthday," he says eventually. "And you must do it alone. No more cooking or cleaning with Flo, gardening duty only."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm deadly serious."

Defiance surges through me but I bite my tongue. Arguing with Charles will only grant me a greater punishment. "And Darius? You rewarded him with a hunt when he's barely thirteen."

"What if it had broken through the chains again?" He ignores my comment. "You could've been killed."

"And Darius couldn't have?" None of this makes sense. "Why'd you hide this from me? You should've known I'd find out you caught one of them."

"I did know," he says lowly. "I, however, didn't believe you were stupid enough to go and visit it."

"He was—it was chained up. I was curious."

"You were stupid. You're lucky to be alive."

The icy air nips at my arms. Darius's lantern sits on Charles's desk, creating a looming shadow on the wall. When I was younger, I used to make drawings for Charles. He would pin them up on the wall of his quarters so that it didn't look so barren, but when I drew a picture of him and me as a family, he tore down all the drawings and told me that they were childish. He lets out a long, low sigh. "All these years and you still don't listen. Have I taught you nothing about obedience?"

"I said I was sorry." Something about being scolded this way makes me feel like that child again. "I won't disobey you again."

"I hope not. Or you won't be alive for your first hunt. A very important day. One you simply can't miss."

I could melt into the floor. I'm ashamed, upset, confused. Charles moves to stand in front of me, his shadow on the wall like an ominous figure threatening me from behind. For a second, I think he's going to touch my cheek, but his hands stay by his sides, and I feel foolish for thinking otherwise, for assuming there would ever be tenderness between us.

"Charles?" He hums in response. "The creature . . . it spoke to me. About somebody else—somebody more dangerous. Is he really going to come?"

"I've heard of it before." He pauses. "A creature who rules the night and those who run under the moon. We've been hunting it for years, we've never found it to be anything more than a myth."

"Do you think it'll come?"

"If it is out there, it'll track the creature right to us. We can't be seen as weak. They thrive off weakness."

"You're going to kill it?"

"The execution will be tonight, in front of the whole village, just before the sun sets. We need to send a message."

I shudder. "What do you think it's like? The one who rules the night?"

"That, Milena, is something I pray you'll never find out."

Make your way home at five, nobody out past six. Be in the tunnels as the sun begins to fall, seal the entrance as the sky turns ember. Be locked away before you need to be, leave enough room for malfunction. These are the rules I grew up with, the ones I never dared to break. But tonight is different. The sun is falling but the entire village stands in the clearing as we stare at the creature chained to the kitchen. With all paws on the ground, it looks exactly like a wolf, but the red behind its eyes reminds me of the truth. It looks just as terrifying as it did in the tunnel. The chain around its neck has penetrated the skin, the area red and swollen. But it doesn't look afraid.

The adults murmur among themselves; they've been on the hunts, this isn't their first time seeing a creature. But the children cower between the legs of their guardians. I spot Darius across the crowd next to Cynthia, standing bravely with his chin in the air. Beside me, Flo grips my hand and looks at the sky. I know what she's thinking; the sun will set in less than an hour, and the creatures will come out to play. We've never been above-ground this late before.

"Justice will be served tonight!" Charles walks in circles so that everybody can get a good look at what's behind him. "We have our revenge. We will have its blood. And the lives of all those before us will be honored!" He scans the clearing, stopping on me. "Soon, we won't be weak."

The creature holds its head high—those red eyes narrowed as Charles paces, and I'm transfixed but also terrified. It doesn't look afraid of Charles's words. A cool wind rustles the trees and travels through the clearing, stirring up the fallen leaves and loose dirt scattered across the ground.

"Why are we doing this so close to dark?" Wilhelm, one of the hunters, steps forward. A few others murmur in agreement. "We need to get into the tunnels."

"Don't worry, we'll be in the tunnels before nightfall," Charles says. "We needed to do this as close to the moon as we could so that its beast will truly die. Look at it!" Charles raises the pole in victory. "A creature of the night!"

He thrusts the pole into the creature's chest but this time he doesn't take it out; he twists it. The creature roars, teeth morphing into pointed daggers. I clutch Flo and we stumble backward as we watch the creature morph into its . . . bloodied, long-fingered, hairless, skinned, and arched body. It almost looks human. The creature's bones crack as it convulses, causing the chains to cut deeper. I don't understand what I'm seeing.

When Charles pulls the pole from its chest, its body morphs before our eyes and slumps against the ground, all beast, thick blood seeping into the ground. But the hole closes right in front of our eyes. The clearing is silent as we watch this dark and dangerous creature writhe in pain. My whole life I've heard them at night, howling, growing, destroying—it's surreal to see one right in front of me.

"Any last words, beast?" Charles snarls, getting in the creature's face.

It lifts its head, eyes human but body completely animal. And then I hear it: the voice inside my head again. "You foolish thing. You have no idea what you've done."

Charles doesn't falter. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

He plunges the pole in again. The creature's howl is ear piercing, sending the birds nesting high within the treetops scattering above our heads. It looks out over Charles's shoulder and scans the crowd as we cower back. And though the sun still peeks above the ice-capped mountains and the sky has not yet shifted red, something howls back.

"But . . ." Charles looks stumped. For the first time in my life, his eyes hold fear. "But the sun . . ."

Darius screams as the howls turn to growls. People begin to push and shove, trying to make it to the tunnel entrance on the other side of the clearing. But I can't move. Charles stands in front of the beast, shaking and filled with uncertainty. And then, amid the chaos, red eyes focus on me, and a wry smile thaws my frozen body.

"He's here," it says. "And you're all about to die."

That's the last thing I hear before a bloodcurdling scream, and Wilhelm's head lands at my feet and rolls across the ground.

"Go! Everybody go! Get to the tunnels!"

Flo pulls me so hard my arm feels like it'll tear from its socket, but in the chaos, I don't resist. I can't see them but I know they're here—shadowed blurs cutting down anyone who gets in their way. Somewhere in the havoc, Flo and I become separated, my arm wrenched from her grip. I reach the tunnel entrance in a few seconds and stare desperately out at the clearing. The creatures move too fast to be seen in the low light—fast-moving shadows taking down villagers dashing for the tunnels.

"Milena!" Charles is in my face, blood splattered across his chest, limping on one leg.

"I can't find Flo!" I cry, gripping his arm. "She was with me one second and the next she—"

"Forget about Flo. Go to your quarters and don't turn around."

Cold terror claws at my throat. "Charles—"

"Go." He turns and starts to slide the door across at the same moment there's a scream. Flo. I can see her beyond his shoulder, limping toward the entrance, tears streaming as she calls out to Charles not to shut the doors. The ends of her dress drag across the ground, torn and dirty.

"Flo!"

"Help!" she cries. "Wait!"

The entrance is sliding shut. "Charles, do something!"

He turns around, furious. "I told you to get out of here."

Flo's knees buckle and she falls to the ground.

"Flo's still out there!"

He doesn't care. The gap between Flo and me shrinks. She pulls herself up and tries to drag herself to the door, her hair dark with blood and face contorted in pain. A split second later, I dart through the gap. The doors graze my skin, the whisper of death brushing my arm.

I'm on the other side, the sky darkening around me. Racing to Flo, I can see her arm is slashed and her leg points at an unnatural angle. The kitchen shack lays between us and the tunnels. "Millie, look out!" A shadow hurtles toward us. Screaming, I jump on top of her and roll us across the ground—the creature goes sailing past.

"We're going to die," she cries. "You're going to die and it's my fault! Charles is going to kill me—"

"Flo, stop!" I say, pressing her into the wall of the shack. "We're in this together, okay?"

Her eyes flutter. I grab her arm and put it to her chest, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Leave me. Go, get safe. You—you have to."

"Flo, stay with me. Flo!"

"Go. You don't . . . understand, you—you can't die, you're almost . . . twenty, you can't—"

"What're you talking about? Neither of us is going to die, okay?" Her eyes flutter shut. "Flo?"

But she's unconscious. I shake her, willing her to wake, but to no avail. A growl comes from behind, and I turn my head. The faces of an army of wolf-like creatures with snarling mouths and glowing eyes are simply there. They move in, jaws snapping, teeth bared, ragged breaths clouding in the night air. But one howl stops them all. The wolves halt and lower their heads to the ground.

With my back against the side of the kitchen there's nowhere for me to go, nowhere for me to run. I'm surrounded but they aren't attacking. Something emerges from the tree line. No, someone emerges from the tree line. The broad-shouldered figure walks toward us, the earth shaking beneath its feet.

As it gets closer, I squeeze my eyes shut when it stops in front of me. If I'm going to die, I don't want to see. The growls stop but the screams continue, ricocheting off the trees that surround us.

A low demanding voice says, "Open your eyes."

Power fills the air, fizzing and bubbling—the same power that made each and every one of the wolves lower their eyes. "Open your eyes."