The first werewolf writhed in pain after spilling over the palisade and landing on top of the sharp stones buried in the hay bales. One of the villagers thrust her torch, lighting the hay ablaze and consuming the werewolf along with.

  Peregrine saw multiple werewolves caught on the peaks of the palisade. Other pack members crawled over the top, using their stuck brethren as padding. The villagers couldn’t keep pace with their torches and were soon overrun by the snarling beasts ripping their throats out.

  The werewolves stood between five and six feet, no taller than the average person. They were covered in thick, gray fur that was already stained red from the damage the few of them had done in a matter of seconds.

  Metallic clangs reverberated as the townsfolk attempted to battle the monsters, frequently missing with their swings and striking each other’s unsound weapons.

  Peregrine’s head swiveled watching bodies flying and collapsing to the dirt. His System showed the werewolves to be between levels 1 and 3, similar to the low level people of Fiddler’s Green. The turnover was apparently high on both sides.

  Residents of Fiddler’s Green were dropping like flies as more and more werewolves landed inside the walls. They did have strength in numbers, though, and multiple beasts had met their end as well. Rusty swords and axes hacked through limbs and teeth and claws tore through skin and muscle. Blood splattered against buildings and pooled in the dips and crevices in the dirt.

  Was it by pure luck that none of the werewolves had discovered Peregrine, yet? That’s what he wondered in the brief moment before his luck ran out. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

  Alissa had her sword at the ready, but it shook violently. A werewolf had just finished sinking its teeth into the neck of a level 1 Cartographer. It lifted its head, a flap of skin still dangling from its mouth, and sniffed the air. Blood sprayed from its snout when it exhaled. Then its eyes landed on Alissa, and it immediately bounded toward her in a weird half-crawl half-run.

  “No.” Alissa shuffled back and fell, her sword clattering to the ground. She scrambled a few feet before finding her footing again. In a second, she would be the next victim.

  Almost automatically, Peregrine jumped into action. It shocked him at how easily he shoved his fear to the side. He aimed at the werewolf, pictured a UFO like he’d done before, and casted Holy.

  The yellow UFO blasted away and struck the werewolf, pushing it to the ground just as it dove for Alissa. Unlike the previous zombies, this monster quickly rose to its feet. Also, unlike the previous zombies, its health bar only dropped about a quarter of the way. It inspected the singed fur on its midsection. On its two hind legs, it marched toward Peregrine, growling and snarling, flinging thick saliva from the corners of its mouth.

  Peregrine tried a different approach by imagining the halo he’d conjured before. He tried to make it faster, but it was still slow moving, and the werewolf sidestepped it.

  “That’s no good,” Peregrine said. He went to cast again, imagining something a little faster … like a bullet. But nothing happened. He thrust the quill again and again, with no results. That’s when he noticed the feather was completely white, meaning he was out of ink. There was no time to refill as the werewolf sprinted the last few feet and took a swipe with its razor-sharp claws.

  The attack caught Peregrine off-guard, but with his increased stats he reacted quick enough to duck, feeling the air blow across his hair. However, the werewolf was clever, and kicked him as he crouched. The strike bowled him over and sent him rolling across the ground. His health bar dropped. The werewolf did not relent, planting a hind paw on his chest, digging its claws into his flesh and dragging them down toward his stomach. The white-hot pain was immediate.

  A once green health bar was now in the yellow and continuing to drop. Peregrine pulled the Elixir of Life from his inventory and tried downing the red liquid, but the werewolf slapped it out of his hands and pinned his arms to the ground. It put its face up close to his and the hot, nasty dog breath almost made him throw up. Red-tinged spit dripped from its mouth, landing on his cheeks. Its eyes were yellow, with clouded pupils that made it look blind. Then the beast opened its jaws wide, ready to finish Peregrine off.

  A white glint appeared behind, and above, the werewolf. Instead of teeth ripping out his trachea, an entire head smacked Peregrine in the face and tumbled off to the side. Weak floated in the air, behind a fountain of blood spraying from the neck of the werewolf. The rest of the body crumpled on top of him.

  “Get it off! Get it off!” Peregrine’s mouth was muffled by fur. A second later, the body was lifted away. He ran his suit sleeves across his face trying to soak up some of the sloppy mess, and couldn’t spit enough times to get the taste of blood out of his mouth.

  “Get up, Yankee Doodle. There’s more coming.”

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  Peregrine grabbed Alissa’s hand and she yanked him to his feet with ease. He doubled over, resting his hands against his knees, still in pain from the attack. His party member talked tough, but he now saw through that rough exterior. Her breaths were shallow and rapid, the sword still shook, and her eyes, blinking rapidly, pleaded for him to stay by her side. She truly was just a scared girl, not a war-hardened general.

  Before he could join her, Peregrine desperately needed to fill his health bar or another hit might be his last. He quickly scanned the ground, but didn’t see the bottle. Then, strong arms dipped him like he was in a dance, and a bottle of red liquid pressed against his lips. The smell of perfume lingered.

  “Drink, my pet.” Peregrine looked up, into the soft eyes of Pat. She shooshed him softly.

  It was indescribably uncomfortable. But he needed the healing, so he guzzled the elixir to get the moment over with faster. When he finished, she stood him straight and rubbed his back. He grabbed the empty bottle from her and pulled it into his inventory.

  “Thanks,” Peregrine muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

  Pat blew him a kiss, grabbed the axe that looked tiny in her hands, and rushed back into the fray.

  Bodies had piled up on both sides, and the noise had died down considerably since the start of the attack. It appeared there were only a handful of werewolves remaining.

  Peregrine snatched the Holy ink from his inventory and dipped the quill, watching the yellow color travel up the feather. He put the ink away and joined Alissa. “Have you seen Wendell? Is he OK?”

  Alissa shook her head.

  Peregrine’s chest tightened. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt it would be his fault if Wendell got hurt. Why did he have such an urge to keep strangers safe? Though, they weren’t strangers anymore. They were party members. He wondered if the System was manufacturing this feeling in him, or if it was legitimate.

  Small skirmishes continued as Peregrine and Alissa ran about the battlefield searching for Wendell. Peregrine fired off a couple more Holy spells, but found himself lightheaded and woozy after doing so. He wondered if it had something to do with his Creative stat, specifically the durability portion. Did it mean mental durability? Because his head felt like it had suffered through a day’s worth of school exams.

  Alissa finished off a werewolf with a well-placed sword thrust, earning her a round of applause and an increase to level 2.

  At last they happened upon Wendell. He was braced behind his shield, screaming in terror as a werewolf thrashed at the wood. With every strike, the beast was knocked away a few feet, but kept coming back for more. Both Wendell and his shield’s health bars were full, not taking any obvious physical damage from the attack. But you wouldn’t know it from the horrific noises coming from his mouth. The fight was happening right next to the root cellar that Katie was tucked away in.

  “You’ll have to kill this one,” Peregrine said. “I don’t know if I can cast another spell without messing myself up right now.”

  Alissa sped up to a pace Peregrine couldn’t keep up with. What he wouldn’t give for her stats. Her feet covered large strides gracefully, in stark contrast to her sword swinging wildly with the violent thrusts of her arms.

  Wendell caught sight of them coming, and dropped his guard. He lifted his shield and ran toward them. It was a big mistake.

  The werewolf worked around the shield and speared Wendell, driving them both into the bales stacked on top of the root cellar. The crack of the cellar doors seemed extra loud, knowing the contents hidden inside.

  No. Peregrine’s breath was raspy, pushing himself beyond his extreme in a desperate attempt to save extra seconds. But neither him, nor Alissa got to the event faster than Sandra, who dove head first through the broken cellar doors.

  Alissa arrived next and had Wendell—who hadn’t a scratch on him—pulled out of the debris before Peregrine reached them.

  All three stood close to each other, watching the shadows dance in the lantern light of the cellar and hearing the deafening sounds of a woman’s primal screams, a werewolf's whimpers, jars breaking, and a sword finding its target repeatedly. But none of them found the bravery to act. To help. A decision Peregrine would feel ashamed of for some time.

  Even worse than the noise of extreme violence, was the frail sound that followed. Sobbing, and the quiet seconds in between breaths. The three heroes remained stationary during this as well, only reacting when a blood-soaked Sandra finally appeared at the bottom of the stairs clutching something in her arms.

  Sandra scaled the steps, cradling the bloodied and torn body of her daughter, Katie. She walked right past, not giving them a second of her time, and marched across the village, into the Mirth Tavern.

  “Damn it.” Alissa shouldered past the group and helped the villagers slice through the last two werewolves. Wendell remained tucked behind his shield, while Peregrine rushed to a peephole in the palisade.

  The Fool stood outside the perimeter, not doing anything. Once again, he seemed to sense Peregrine, and locked eyes with him. They stared at each other for some time until The Fool cackled and broke away from the moment by turning and heading back to his castle.

  Peregrine continued to watch until the giant was out of sight, never having a single thought stir in his head.

  Fiddler’s Green has survived another onslaught from The Fool and his minions. The cost this time was twenty peaceful souls. You’ve now seen firsthand the evil that plagues this realm. What will you do? Will you accept The Morrigan’s quest and become a hero for the Irenic Realm? Or will you choose self preservation? The choice is yours, Peregrine.

  The System was clear. But Peregrine wasn’t ready to make that decision. Not yet. Not on his own. He went back for Wendell and got him to step out from behind the safety of his shield. They found Alissa resting on some rocks, and helped her to her feet. Slowly making their way through town, they saw villagers hugging and crying. Others were gathering the dead and laying them side-by-side. Some were snuffing out torches and fires, casting the world in a stifling darkness.

  After seeing the damage done, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the three. At least, Peregrine sensed there was. But he couldn’t speak for his party members. Together, they entered the Mirth Tavern.