The balance of power was shifting in favor of the werewolves. Something else caught Alex’s attention. He activated his echo spell to confirm his suspicions. The number of werewolves didn’t match what he’d initially tracked. Including the lone werewolf he’d followed earlier and the group of five with the werewolf wizard, there should have been seven. But now, he counted eleven werewolves.
Two werewolves had even circled around the rocky highland, positioning themselves behind the centaurs. Their stealthy movements suggested they were waiting for the right moment to strike. “I see now,” Alex murmured, glancing at Wimzy. “The werewolf who left earlier went to summon reinforcements.”
“Master!” Wimzy gasped, pointing toward the wizard. “That’s him! That’s the one who attacked my old master! But there weren’t this many werewolves with him back then…”
Alex nodded grimly. “So, he’s their leader. He must’ve sent out a signal to call the others. Looks like there were more werewolves in the Forbidden Forest than we thought.” He frowned, piecing things together. ‘If one of those werewolves hadn’t wandered toward the forest’s edge, I wouldn’t have even known about this.’
Alex knew better than to rush in recklessly. The werewolves were dangerous opponents, and without a full understanding of their capabilities, charging in would be foolish. For now, he opted to observe. “Despicable poacher!” a deep voice bellowed from the centaur side.
Alex’s eyes locked onto a centaur elder at the center of the formation. The elder’s broad shoulders and thick beard gave him an air of authority, and his voice carried the weight of prophecy. “We should have seen the signs in the stars!” the elder thundered. “Betelgeuse of Orion dimmed, and the werewolves expanded their range. This is your doing, you and your disorderly pack!”
“Hahaha!” The werewolf wizard let out a low, menacing laugh, his sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight. “Smelly old horses! You should surrender now. I only want the bright-colored ponies behind you. As for the rest of you… I’ll gladly feast on your tough, stringy meat!”
The centaurs bristled at the insult, their bows straining as they prepared to fire. Alex clenched his jaw, his mind racing. ‘So, their target is the young centaurs. But why? Do they plan to sell them? Or is this some twisted werewolf ritual?’
“You!” The lead centaurs erupted with fury at the werewolf wizard’s words. The three younger centaurs behind them, their emotions boiling over, loosed arrows in rage.
The werewolf wizard didn’t even bother drawing his wand. He deflected the arrows effortlessly with his sharp claws, their tips snapping against his gnarled nails. “You dare threaten us on our land!” bellowed the elder centaur, gripping his spear tightly and pointing it at the werewolf wizard. “Leave now, or the disaster destined for you and your kind will soon descend upon you!”
The werewolf wizard snorted derisively. “Spare me your hollow threats, old nag. I’ve been lenient because I don’t want to damage the merchandise. Those young ones behind you—if their hides are torn, their value plummets. Don’t test my patience.”
“Mercy from a cruel and despicable werewolf? What a joke,” scoffed another centaur, his voice dripping with disdain as he readied his spear. “Killing, corrupting, and polluting—that’s all your kind knows how to do.”
The werewolf wizard’s grin twisted into a snarl, his fangs bared menacingly. “Turtles in a trap daring to insult wolves? Soon, the wizarding world will tremble before my army of werewolves. I’ll breed more, unstoppable and savage, until every creature like you is hunted into extinction. Aren’t you proud of your prophecies? Predict your own doom, horse!”
The centaurs quaked with rage at his words. Their tightly held formation began to waver as a few soldiers shifted forward, ready to charge and silence him. “Hold!” the elder commanded, his voice cutting through their anger. He raised his head, gazing briefly at the sky before returning his calm yet steely eyes to the werewolf wizard.
“Run while you can, despicable werewolf. Thunder’s wrath is about to greet you. The stars have revealed your end: the messenger of the seventh star of the Big Dipper will bring your death. By dawn, only two of your pack will live to see the sun rise.”
The werewolf wizard threw his head back and laughed, his guttural voice echoing through the forest. “Enough of your bedtime stories! You’ve tested my patience long enough. Since you love your stars so much, I’ll send you to join them!”
With a flourish, the wizard drew his wand in one hand and crushed a handful of vials in the other. A viscous liquid spilled from the shattered glass, transforming into a dense, swirling vapor as he waved his wand. The cloud of mist surged toward the centaurs. “It’s Sleeping Draught!” one of the centaurs cried in alarm, the team’s formation faltering.
“Master!” Wimzy tugged urgently at Alex’s robes. “Those potions! They’re the ones he stole from us!”
Alex gave a curt nod but didn’t take his eyes off the scene. His mind wasn’t focused on the wizard’s actions but on the prophecy spoken by the elder centaur. ‘The messenger of the seventh star of the Big Dipper… Thunder’s wrath… Could that be me?’ Alex’s position in the north aligned with the centaurs, and he couldn’t ignore the eerie accuracy of their words. ‘Did centaur prophecy actually hold weight?’
Until now, Alex had dismissed prophecy as fanciful nonsense—vague predictions to be interpreted however one pleased. Divination had seemed as unreliable as Professor Trelawney’s dramatic but hollow warnings at Hogwarts. But this prophecy? It pointed directly to him. ‘If I stay here and do nothing, will the prophecy fail?’ Alex wondered, a dark smile tugging at his lips.
“Master, look! The centaurs are charging!” Wimzy’s urgent whisper jolted Alex back to reality.
The centaurs, realizing they couldn’t wait for the potion’s effects to incapacitate them, organized a desperate charge. Their spears glinted in the torchlight as they surged forward, trying to break through the werewolves’ line.
The werewolf wizard responded with a chilling, guttural howl, summoning his pack. The werewolves charged with feral intensity, their yellow saliva dripping as they closed the distance with terrifying speed. The clash was immediate and brutal. Centaurs thrust their spears into the snarling beasts, while werewolves clawed and snapped in return. Blood spattered the ground as the two sides collided in chaos.
At the center of it all, the elder centaur held his spear aloft and charged straight for the werewolf wizard, his intent clear—a swift and decisive beheading. The wizard grinned cruelly, raising his wand. A red streak shot toward the centaur elder—a quick and deadly curse. But the elder was faster than he looked. He swung his spear horizontally, deflecting the curse with practiced ease. The spell fizzled harmlessly into the air, and Alex’s eyes widened at the sight.
‘What is that spear made of?’ Alex wondered, noting its remarkable resistance to magic. But while the parry was impressive, it also slowed the elder’s advance.
The werewolf wizard’s grin widened, his yellowed fangs glinting in the torchlight. “You’ve got spirit, old horse. I’ll enjoy breaking it.”
From his vantage point, Alex took in the battle’s intensity. The centaurs were valiant, but the werewolves’ relentless savagery and regenerative abilities tipped the scales against them. “They’ll be overwhelmed if this continues,” Alex muttered.
“What will Master do?” Wimzy whispered, her wide eyes fixed on the scene below.