After successfully researching a shit ton of information about Lycanthropy, I feel absolutely unconfident in my knowledge about them. This is because the information regarding it all was kind of... contradictory.

It just didn't make sense.

I was surprised by the lack of information, and I decided to go to sleep. I'm planning to visit the library Lenna had shown me on our previous tour in the morning.

Changing into something more comfortable to sleep in, I jump in my bed under the duvet and close my eyes. The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is the faint sound of sorrowful howling.

~

Peeling my eyes open in the morning, I sit up and stretch out the length of my body. The clock read 10:37 am, so I quickly hop into the shower to begin the rest of my day. Once I am completely ready, after struggling to get the few knots out of my hair, I exit my apartment. As I am locking my door, a small tapping on my shoulder has me jumping.

"Oh shit!" I lightly screech. My heart makes rapid pumps in my chest at the intrusion.

"Relax, it's just me."

My heart stops pounding in my chest and slowly the rhythm returns to normal once I turn around. Lenna is facing me with a warm smile that is always so contagious. I instantly smile back, although it drops as I soon recall last night's events at Claws.

"Is Kaden okay? What the hell happened?" I ask Lenna, trying to make sense of it all. Her eyebrows raise and she's standing in front of me as if I'm a crazy person.

"Girl, Kaden is like, fine." She lightly gives my shoulder a small squeeze. "Just a few scrapes and bruises, that's all. You know how guys can be," She shrugs nonchalantly. Right away, I begin shaking my head.

"No, Lenna. I watched it all happen last night. He had broken bones, and he should be being treated in a hospital right now!" I couldn't believe what Lenna was saying.

I had seen him myself.

Klayton had really done quite the number on him, although I still couldn't make sense of why. Lenna dismissed my claims and told me she had to get going to class. Despite the fact I wasn't getting the answers I wanted from her, I let her go and decided I should probably get the research on local Lycanthropes done now too. Saying goodbye, I exited our apartment building and ventured off to the Myersdale library.

Once I had arrived, I briskly walked up to the old lady sitting at the desk located in the front of the small building. Slightly clearing my throat to capture her attention, I begin to smile at her. The short, grey-haired, plump women had her attention almost completely enthralled within a book in her hand. Once I successfully had her attention, she briefly glanced up in my direction. She then looked down at the book again, as if deciding whether to continue reading or to help me was more important to her. Fortunately, she chose the latter.

"What can I do for ya, hunny?" The older woman had a minor southern accent, which I had not heard from anyone since arriving in Myersdale. She narrowed her eyes at me, almost assessing me. Honestly, I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable.

"I need to research a few sources you have on a specific subject. My professor is making us do a paper on local Lycanthropy," I said with a half-smile and a roll of my eyes. The older woman, whose name I now know of as Mary from the name tag on her shirt, instantly perked up at my sentence.

"Lycanthropy, you say?" She narrowly questioned whilst giving my entire body a once-over. I started to squirm under her judgemental gaze. "Well then. Right this way," She bellows and started to walk in the direction of some bookshelves near the back of the building.

As I was following her, I couldn't help but be amazed at all of the books around me. There must have been thousands of books, of all colours and sizes just stacked side by side. I run my finger along a few of the book spines I see on a shelf that we pass by. After the short walk, we arrive at a huge section of books. An entire section of the library seems to be dedicated to this subject, and I was very surprised.

What is so important about werewolves in this small town?

Mary turns to me.

"Don't break anything. Don't make noise. Good luck!" The older woman finishes her sentences in a cheery manner.

Can someone say passive-aggressive much? I shrug at my own thoughts. Grabbing the nearest book I found, titled "Myersdale Lycans", I decided to open it up.

Much to my own surprise, this book about Lycanthropy was based on encounters people made with werewolves in the early 1900's. Apparently, this town was full of werewolves. I look at books with similar colours and see that they date all the way back to the late 1700's, when Myersdale was an even smaller, more remote village that hadn't yet been settled. They must live in the woods. I shuddered at the thought of ever encountering such a serious beast. In some of the books, there are small drawings and scribbles of what they look like.

Giant. Scary. Deadly.

I begin to jot down some quick notes, in case this information could be useful in my 1500 word paper on 'Local Lycanthropy'. I open book after book, reading about the dangers of being around a Lycan, and to never run from one because they won't stop chasing you until they pounce. I stand up, aiming to find more books that could potentially wield even better information for someone like me, who literally knows nothing of the subject. I brush my hands off my pants and my eyes start to scan the enormous amounts of books on Lycanthropy in front of my face.

A certain small, red book capture my attention.

I frown, noticing how high up it is on the shelves. My eyes dart around me to use something as a stepping stool. Not seeing anything, I decided to take my chances and climb up. It wasn't too far up, but as I'm only around 5'1 it is definitely a struggle for me.

I place my leg on the shelf in front of me, hoisting myself up a bit higher. My fingers reach out as far as they can to grab the dusty old book. The tips of my fingers easily brush against the spine of it, and I growl in small frustration. Jesus Christ. I lean a bit more, and I push the book right off the shelf. It goes flying to the ground.

I casually hop off the shelf, and look around, hoping Mary hadn't seen or heard anything. That would not have been good. The small, red book lays onto the ground upside down. It had opened because of the fall. My eyebrows furrow together as I crouch down to pick it off the floor. I gently pick it up and turn it over. What I see next causes my hands to slightly tremble and all the blood drains from my face.

It's a picture of Klayton.

From 1773.

I gasp lightly, which then turns into a small chuckle. If anyone had seen or heard me at this moment, they would surely believe I am crazy.

There is no way this is him.

However, this person could most easily be considered his Doppelgänger. It wasn't really a picture of him, as this book is much too old to include real photographs. This was a very intricate drawing that showed every detail of his face.

It was uncanny, from his jet black hair to his deadly dark eyes. The sharp jawline and light stubble. My eyes followed every stroke of pencil in the pages, which carved his delicious body perfectly as well. The man in this drawing was wearing attire that would have typical in the late 1700's, which included a formal suit. It was worn with a waistcoat, which flattered the frame of his silhouette. It seemed to be embroidered, demonstrating the luxury of such an outfit he wore.

My eyes blinked as I turned the pages slowly, one by one. In all of these pages, Klayton's doppelgänger was scribbled hastily in different poses. This booked seemed to be more of a personal diary or journal. There were lots of those sitting around here, but this once was different.

The man inside this journal would be looking away in some pages, crouched down in others, and walking away even in one of them. The last one I saw made my blood run cold. There was a picture of him on one page, with an arrow turned to the next. A bunch of question marks had been written under both erratically.

It was a drawing of a Lycanthrope.

~

My brain was firing away, and the thoughts that were running through my mind were outrageous. What was this person insinuating? Needing to know more, I grabbed more books from the top shelf. I had to hop onto the shelf and stretch as far as I possibly could to reach them again, and I did so without thinking. About four of them ended up landing on the ground aggressively, but that wasn't my biggest concern right now. I delved deep into the information in front of me with the numerous books in my lap.

I must have been there for hours.

I was reading about stories of men turning into beasts. The scribbles in these books described the process of agony, which had bones breaking and men screaming in pain. My fingers brushed against the drawing of a man wailing in pain upon a forest ground. The pain etched onto his face had me almost blinking away unshed tears.

Was this what local lycanthropy entailed?

So far, I had read all about men changing into beasts. From the numerous journals I had read, the process seemed anything but graceful. I wonder who could write about such a process.

I then opened a light purple book titled "The Moon Goddess"