It was getting dark and the moon began to move towards the center of the sky.

It was a night popular with werewolves, with the wind blowing and the forest rattling. But tonight I'm standing on the lawn in front of a symbol Kral drew with a scepter.

"Werewolves who can't shift are mostly weak bloodlines. You need the Moon goddess's blessing." Kral reaches out his black-gloved hand. I nervously put my hand on his palm. He led me, step by step, to the center of the symbol.

"Kneel."

I knelt down reverently and, following Karal's instructions, bit my finger with my teeth and dropped blood into the container he...