The village of Ashcombe had never hosted a
cricket match like this one. The field was
packed with villagers, their faces lit by
lanterns as the sun dipped below the hills. At
the heart of it stood Eleanor Whitmore, her
gloves gripping the bat, her jaw set in
determination. She was the chosen one, though no
one knew it yet.
Eleanor had been raised in the shadows of her
family’s estate, taught to hide the truth about
her lineage. Her father, Lord Whitmore, had once
been a man of science, obsessed with the old
texts that spoke of lycanthropy. He had found
proof in bloodlines, and Eleanor was the last of
his line. By day, she played cricket for the
village team; by night, she prowled the woods as
a wolf.
The rules were clear: if she ever transformed in
public, the curse would be exposed, and the town
would turn on her. But the tournament had
brought more than just players—it had brought a
billionaire investor, Sebastian Hale, who had
bought the land for a new resort. He had arrived
with a charm that made even the most reserved
villagers blush, and he had taken an immediate
interest in Eleanor.
Sebastian was not just any man. He had studied
the old myths too, and he had come to Ashcombe
with a purpose. He believed the curse could be
broken, but only if the chosen one willingly
embraced it. That meant revealing herself,
something Eleanor had sworn never to do.
On the third day of the tournament, the pressure
mounted. The final match was against the
neighbouring village, and Eleanor was the star
player. As the game began, she felt the familiar
pull in her bones—the shift that always came
before the moon rose. She gritted her teeth,
forcing herself to focus on the ball as it flew
toward her.
She hit it cleanly, sending it soaring over the
boundary. Cheers erupted from the crowd. But
then, as the sun dipped lower, the air turned
colder. A shadow moved at the edge of the field.
Eleanor turned, her heart pounding. It was
Sebastian, watching her, eyes gleaming with
something between admiration and challenge.
That night, the moon rose high. Eleanor ran into
the woods, desperate to avoid the transformation.
But Sebastian followed. He had known all along
what she was, and he had come to make her choose.
In the clearing, the trees whispered around them.
Eleanor shifted, her body contorting into the
form of a wolf. She snarled, ready to fight, but
Sebastian stepped forward, unafraid. “You don’t
have to run,” he said. “You’re not alone in this.
”
The curse had changed the world—turning men into
beasts, hiding truths in plain sight. But now,
for the first time, Eleanor saw a chance to
break it.
She looked at Sebastian, then back at the
village, and made her choice.
