The forest was still and quiet around me, broken only by the distant cry of an owl. Moonlight streamed through the broken canopy overhead, lighting my way. I advanced carefully, treading softly on the forest floor, one hand staying by my whip. I constantly looked around me, eyes open for any sign of danger, or anything… unnatural. An exorcist by trade, hunter of demons and evil spirits alike, I’d been called to the forest by stories of witches and monsters living deep inside. The reports were vague and unhelpful, as they always were, but it was my duty to investigate.

       After several hours of travelling, the trees grew sparse up ahead, opening out into a wide clearing. I knelt low, advancing slowly, tucking my trailing red cloak behind me. If there was anyone up ahead, my wards and charms would only hide me so well, and it paid to be careful.

       Up ahead was a large cottage, half-covered in vines. I glanced from window to window, checking for any signs of life. Only a faint light shone from inside, a slight curl of smoke from the chimney suggesting a dying fire. My guess was whoever was inside was probably asleep, and though it would be a good time to sneak inside I would still need to be careful.

       Making my way across the clearing, I made for a back door, hopefully opening to somewhere I wouldn’t be noticed. After a check for any traps - magical or otherwise - and a quick unlocking charm, I was inside. It looked like a workroom for brewing potions; at least judging by the two cauldrons dominating the middle of the room and the boxes and jars of ingredients lining the wall. Definitely witches. I paused for a moment, listening to the sounds of the house, trying to make sure I hadn’t disturbed anyone - or anything - so far.

       Moving past the cauldrons, an arch opened out into a vast room, impossibly large for even a cottage of this size. Shelf after shelf was stacked high, as though a shop or warehouse. It didn’t take my experience with artefacts to realise these were all magic in some way. There must have been hundreds of spellbooks, potions, charms, and all kinds of enchanted and cursed objects. It would take me years if I tried to catalogue it all… better to just scout for now, and return when I was better prepared.

       As I surveyed some of the items, I let my guard down for a moment, too used to the stillness of the cottage. Too late I heard the pad of footsteps above me, the creature prowling through the rafters overhead. I looked up just in time to see the cascade of silver liquid pouring down from a bottle, held by the silhouetted form of a sphinx. The potion splashed down on my face, gleaming with moonlight, trickling through my hair and cascading down over my body.

       I cried out in alarm, stepping backwards too late to avoid the potion, already feeling the magic starting to suffuse my body, a warmth spreading through my body. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, breaths coming deep and slow, heaving under my crimson dress. I expected to feel weak, or paralysed, or struck numb by the potion but was surprised to feel envigorated, a feeling of strength and rushing through my body - and it felt fantastic.

       I knew that the feeling wouldn’t be without a cost, that my body was still soaking with the magic of a curse, but in the moment I couldn’t deny how good it felt. A feeling of flames spread across my skin, the prickle of pins and needles. I couldn’t make out what I was feeling, at first, more distracted by the sensation in my muscles. I could feel them aching and tensing cross my body, beginning to grow under my skin, pushing out against my skin and clothes. Already the fabric of my dress was starting to cut tight across my skin, my boots straining against the force of my growing body. My bones protested under the weight of them, joints popping, shifting, my whole body starting to change shape.

       My feet grew tense, the pressure in my boots only growing stronger, the sensation of something pushing out from my toes: sharp and painful. Gritting my teeth, I flexed my toes, feeling a sudden relief as razor-sharp claws burst through my boots, tearing them to shreds. Freed from their confines, my feet surged outwards, growing longer and more powerful, shifting to stand on my toes. My legs shifted under me, thighs bulging with dense muscles, tearing the last of my boots from my body. There was no mistaking the shape of my legs, the lupine form of a werewolf, the glittering moonlight of the potion suddenly making sense.

       The warmth of pins and needles grew more intense, a million hairs bursting forth from my straining skin, a thick coat of brown fur soon covering my legs, rolling up over my body. Beneath my feet, or maybe I should say paws, I could feel my skin toughening into thick pads against the cool stone of the floor.

       The pounding in my chest was impossible to ignore, blood surging through my changing body. My fingers twitched and flexed, arms thick with muscle, my gloves quickly falling to tatters on the floor as claws burst forth from my fingertips. I felt the fur pushing out under my dress as my torso grew wide and thick, my chest barreling outwards. Inside, I could feel my heart and lungs expanding, all better to fuel my growing body. All over, my dress began to tear, revealing the thick coat of deep brown fur growing up and over my torso, running down my arms. My breasts rose high on my chest, bursting free of my dress, thick with luxurious fur. Instinct drew me to cut myself free from my belt, new claws slicing effortlessly through the fabric, leaving my body almost naked in the cool of the store.

       Still the fire burned within, spine tensing and popping, growing powerful and strong to support my heavier body. I could feel it pushing downwards, rising above my growing rear, the beginnings of a tail pushing out from behind me. It grew long and heavy, the weight of it helping to balance the rest of my body, soon thick with fur off its own as it saved back and forth. I could feel my body growing still, my thick body of lupine curves and muscle crowding the shelves around me. The impossible power of my new form.

       Instincts seemed to be taking over my body, a bestial pride in my new form, my conscious thoughts pushed to the side, almost a passenger in my own body. I braced myself for the coming change, already feeling my neck starting to swell and tense, the pop of my spine growing longer, ready to support the weight of a lupine head.

       My jaw was first to change, aching with a pressure building behind it. I watched as it pushed out ahead of me, jerking forward as my bones crunched and protested, stretching my skin as it went. More and more of my muzzle filled my vision, nose turning almost black as the fur overtook my face. My senses grew sharper, nose picking up the scents of the store, the herbal notes of potion ingredients mixing with the smell of old books, and the feline form above me. My eyes pushed forwards next, vision shifting slightly, the details of the store coming clearer as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. The last part of me to change was my ears, rising up amongst my untouched hair, drawing out into tapered points flicking this way and that at every tiny sound, hearing the heartbeat of a rabbit out in the woods beyond.

       “Liquid moonlight,” came a purring voice above me. I spun around to look at my assailant, clearly seeing the mocking feline face above me, “instant werewolf, one of Evie’s favourite potions. She’s out there, now, enjoying herself in the moonlight. It’s an instinct all werewolves share, including you.”

       She was right. I knew I should be pinning her down, restraining her with my whip, or at least isolating myself while I waiting for my body to cleanse the curse of lycanthropy of my body. Instead, I could feel the call of the moon outside, the desire to be free of this human building, to join my fellow wolves in the hunt. I tried to resist, focussing on my duty, reminding myself I was still human. I was still. In. Control.

       A howl split the silence, the call of my kind echoing through the cottage, resonation in my soul. Before I could stop myself, I was bounding through the cottage, crashing over shelves in my rush to be outside. To be free.

       A second howl joined the first, calling back in answer.

       My own.