Prologue
Night. A storm rages. Howling winds stir wraith like clouds across the moon. Jagged forks of lightning rake the sky, and bellowing thunder echoes through the empty hallways of a large, castle-like building.
In a room lit by candles, a girl sits hunched at a table. She writes hastily, her quill scratching inky lines across the pages of a hefty book.
From below she hears a terrifying cry, the primal shriek of a wolf.
The candles gutter. The girl raises her quill, pausing to draw her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
She knows he is coming, and that she must finish what she has started. For she is the last of her line, and only she can save the name of her family.
The girl continues to write, her quivering lips moving soundlessly as she mouths the words.
There is another baleful cry, much closer now. Then a mighty crash, an explosion of splintered wood and shattered stone that shakes the floor beneath her.
He has breached the main hall doors.
The girl’s hand moves faster, her quill gouging the pages of the book. Ink splashes onto the floor, the droplets glistening darkly like splattered spiders.
She hears padding footsteps, and something scratches at the door to her room.
She is almost out of time.
The girl picks up the book and runs from the room, ascending a winding staircase that brings her out onto the tower rooftop. She hears another crash from inside the tower, followed by a chorus of angry bellows.
He has her scent.
She is still writing, her hand trembling from fear and the chill wind that whips at her as she hurries across the rooftop. She reaches the battlements and turns round.
Three wolf-like forms scamper onto the roof, their yellow eyes burning into her. Then they merge into one, and the one shape becomes that of a man.
A man clad in grey.
His face is hidden in shadow, but his eyes reflect the flashing lightning as he strides towards the girl.
The girl finishes writing, and holds the book before her as she backs away from the man. She clambers onto the battlement, still clutching the book as the storm seethes around her.
The grey clad man reaches out to her, his gloved hand beckoning. The girl shakes her head, and glances over the wall of the tower. It is a long way down, certain death if she should fall. Then she sees the gloved hand lunging at her. She recoils, and tumbles from the battlements…
There is a flash of lightning and a deafening thunderclap. The book thuds onto the cobbled courtyard, followed moments later by a fluttering empty cloak.
The grey clad man looks down from the tower, silhouetted by the moon as the storm fades…