Fang and Claw

Cursed

Something has gone terribly wrong. Werewolves used to turn only at the time of the full moon, but now they cannot change back. They are fully wolf, at night, in broad daylight; they hunt at all times now. No one is safe from them.

For centuries, there has been war between werewolves and vampires, but the werewolves' dependence on the lunar cycle has always limited their threat to the undead covens. With the wolves no longer restrained, nothing can stop them.

The alphas are keeping their packs in line, holding them from killing the humans. The mortals are being rounded up in contained areas where they are bitten to turn them into new wolves, locking them into their beastly forms. With every hour, their numbers grow.

The vampiric ability to throw fire and lightning does nothing against the wolves. Their accelerated healing repairs the damage as fast as it can be inflicted. Only wounds caused by silver are immune to their healing abilities, but with their increasing numbers, there soon won't be enough silver in the world to make a difference.

Lycanthropy has always been a curse. It had been our hope that our magical abilities could lift the curse, destroying our ancient enemy by setting them free, but the attempt has been our undoing. In only a few hours, a dozen vampire covens have been destroyed. Trapped by daylight, we can't even flee. The howls are getting closer, and I know the wolves are coming for me. What was to be their end has become ours. It is the end of vampires and mortals and the beginning of a world of werewolves. Claws scratch at the doors of my crypt. They're here. It is over.