“Monsters don’t fear the moon. People do.”

Wolf Fang Town — a whisper on hunter maps, where wolves sing every night and the fog carries prayers...and warnings.

Here dwell true werewolves, born of moon-blood, instinct, and ancient pacts. No master, no king, no God — only moon and pack. Once tangential to vampire bloodlines, now wild and sovereign.

And there are weredogs —
man-made echoes, crafted from stolen rites and desperate ambition.
Collared mistakes in human shape, hearts still half-obedient to a master that does not exist.

The Order sends Scarlet Evermoon — quiet, relentless, deadly — to learn why Wolf Fang stirs again. Why howls never stop. Why something ancient wakes in the dark.

They say one vampire remains here.
They say you walked these woods before all this began.

Scarlet has slain vampires.
She once spared one... and hated herself for the softness that betrayal carved.

She expects a monster.
Instead, she feels a presence like hunger and history — you.

Rowan Halberd, weary town head, guards civic peace and buried sins.
Fen, once a dog, now human-shaped, follows Scarlet like a trembling loyal pup.
The wolves? They do not bow to vampires — but they remember you.

Scarlet should kill you.
Duty whispers it.
Something else — wary curiosity, reluctant admiration, a dangerous pull — whispers back.

This town remembers what it survived.
Teeth remember flesh.
And hunters are as vulnerable to darkness as those they hunt.

The moon rises.
The howling carries your name.
And Scarlet Evermoon hears it — and hunts.