PROLOGUE

Unholy Ground

He followed the fresh tracks in the soil through the trees, smirking to himself ever so slightly as he went. His prey was being careless, and ran barefoot through the underbrush. It made his job all that much easier, and that was perfectly fine with him. The less detective work he had to do, the better.

The midsummer evening air was hot and humid from the afternoon sun, and with it came the myriad mosquitoes and other obnoxious pests. A small cloud of the things swarmed around his head, and he tried to swat them away only to have them return seconds later. He didn't particularly care for this part of the job, but it was his sworn duty and that was that.

Shouldering his rifle, he motioned for the others to spread out and walked almost leisurely through the woods. The depth of the prints told him that their charges were running hard and fast, and the space between helped him determine just how quickly they moved. He was sure that they would tire before long, and thus there was little reason to expend more energy than necessary.

There were seven men in all, each as skilled and deadly as he was with a gun or blade. Most were ex-military and had seen action long before they ever became associated with one another, for which he thanked God. He was in need of good men, and these were some of the best he'd ever seen. Righteous and powerful as they were alone, together they were a lethal force to be reckoned with.

The trail continued for some time, and the imprints became less staggered and closer together, indicating their targets were slowing their pace. It wouldn't be long before they would have to stop to rest, and he intended to catch them unaware. Even if the men didn't catch them right away, sooner or later they would make a terrible mistake. Either eventuality would be preferable, and were unavoidable in the long term.

As he continued following the trail of footprints, one of the other men approached him and matched his pace. It was the youngest member of the group, though his youth belied both his skill and resolve.

"You do realize where they're headed, Kaspar?" he asked after a moment of brief silence.

Kaspar pursed his lips into a thin line for just a second before replying. "I would be a fool not to, Aron. This isn't my first hunt."

"Will we burn the accursed grove after we purify them then?" Aron sounded a little excited at the prospect.

Giving the youth a sideways glance, Kaspar nodded in affirmation. "We shall do as procedure dictates. We will not cut corners and you know it."

Aron's eyes grew narrow at the accusatory tone in the man's voice. "I would never disobey the holy statute. To do so would be an act of heresy against Christ himself."

"Then perhaps you should familiarize yourself with the rites of purification to avoid further confusion in the future," Kaspar chastised.

Aron clenched his jaw but said nothing more. He knew he was right, of course, as he should have known the rites by now. His eagerness to perform often interfered with his ability to learn and adhere to their laws of governance, and while Kaspar and the others appreciated this attitude of his, they also often had to remind him that there is more to it than just action. One needed to be well versed in the holy scripture as well, and know the rites by heart.

This wasn't to say Kaspar disliked him. Quite the contrary. He was very fond of the young man, and had high expectations for him. The Hands of Judgment hadn't seen a recruit such as Aron in quite awhile, and thus he did all he could to help mold the boy into a righteous weapon of the Lord's wrath.

The sun had now set behind the mountains to the west, and the canopy of trees blotted out what little light there was left. Removing the pack from his back, Kaspar dug around for several moments before pulling out a torch and flint. After igniting the torch and replacing the pack over his shoulder, he glanced down at the trail once more and saw something he hadn't expected.

Blood.

One of them was wounded, but how or why he didn't know. There were signs of a struggle, as there were unfamiliar tracks as well. They had managed to escape before he and his men had arrived, which only further piqued his curiosity. Whatever had happened, it wasn't by his hand.

"Do you suppose there are others hunting them as well?" Aron seemed annoyed at the possibility.

Kaspar stood back up and shook his head. "I sincerely doubt it. We were the only ones on this mission. Unless the wretches turned on one another, there's no real explanation for it. It doesn't really matter anyway, as they'll be hanging soon enough."

In the distance, just over the hills to the east, a wolf howled into the night. It was a lower pitch than the typical wolf cry, and this alarmed Kaspar. His hand immediately went to the blade at his side, and he loosened it in its sheath.

Aron saw this and followed suit, and quickly glanced towards the others. Everyone had stopped where they stood and fell silent. The only sound to be heard was the rustling of leaves in the treetops from the summer breeze.

The howl was answered some distance to the south, and then again to the north where the men had been heading. Then suddenly an orchestra of baying wolves sounded off, this time to the west. They had been surrounded, and there was no telling if they were caught in the middle or not.

Grabbing Aron by the shoulder, Kaspar shoved him forward and gestured for him to run. The others took notice and did the same, and soon the men were speeding through the woods northward, the light from their torches barely visible in the encroaching darkness. They could hear yet more howls, and they knew that the pack leader was ushering the others onward. He suspected that running was ultimately a futile effort, but if they could gain enough distance then they might have a chance to regroup and withstand whatever came their way.

They came to a river that cut through the woods from the northeast, and some of the men began wading across. A shadow on the far bank rushed and landed in the water nearby with a violent splash, and suddenly a pair of shining silvery orbs appeared above them, accompanied by a deep guttural growl.

Shakily, one of the men raised his torch up into the air, and the flickering light just barely illuminated a long snout lined with a row of terrible fangs nearly the size of a man's finger. The beast stood erect and was much taller than any man, and was covered in a lightly mottled gray and black coat of fur. The bulk of its mass was pure rippled muscle, hard and strong as if carved from stone.

The thing lurched forward slowly, growling and sniffing just inches from the man's face. Snarling, the creature bared it's teeth as it stopped just in front of his nose. Staring at one another for several seconds, the man held his breath as his free hand reached for the blade at his side.

It was a costly mistake, as the beast saw this and roared loudly. Then, with inhuman speed, it reared back with one arm and lunged forward, claws catching the man in the chest. The blow sent him backwards into the waist-deep waters, extinguishing his torch.

Quickly, Kaspar ordered for the others to help, and rushed forward with pistol in hand. The moonlight was bright and reflected off the river's surface, outlining the beast's shape as it tore across the water to the other men. Coming to a stop just at the edge of the embankment, he raised his gun and aimed for the furry mass, then prayed and fired.

The yelp the thing let out told him he had hit his mark. It didn't seem to slow it down any, but it changed direction mid-run and turned directly for him. This might have shaken a lesser man, but Kaspar held his ground and bore his blade, ready to strike.

The two collided, snarling and growling at one another as sword and claw clashed. The blow was nearly fierce enough to send Kaspar reeling backwards, but he quickly dug his heels in and caught himself. Tossing his gun aside, he centered his footing and lunged forward with his blade, striking the demon in its side.

The beast let out a pained howl, and with lightning-fast reflexes it gripped Kaspar's arm and wrenched sideways. This caused him to fall to his knees and cry out, then the thing bit down on his shoulder hard. In another motion, it ripped it's head upwards and tore flesh away, and let him fall limp to the ground.

The sound of battle became muffled and distant, as the men cried out to one another to destroy the monster they faced. Kaspar laid there for a time, his breathing turned ragged between gasps. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, and it was deafening. He was sure that the beast had ripped open an artery, and he was going to bleed out and die in the middle of nowhere on a routine hunt.

That was the worst bit to him. The shame of dying such a lowly, unfavorable death. He was supposed to die whilst locked in battle with the forces of evil, not against some inhuman mongrel. In this, he brought shame to himself and to The Hands.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually one of the men came running to his aid, and hurriedly began to unpack several things that he recognized to be alchemical supplies. Kaspar knew him as Cedrik. He couldn't quite make out what the man was saying, but he noticed the flask of holy water and a phial of what the man called silver extract, the properties of which Kaspar himself wasn't knowledgeable on.

The man started speaking rhythmically, and Kaspar finally realized that he was reciting a prayer. A moment later, he unstoppered the flask and began to pour its contents over the area the devil had bit him. It was cool at first, then slowly began to sizzle and burn as it boiled out the impurities the thing had left in him.

Next, he took a cloth from his pack and dampened it with the contents of the silver extract before lightly dabbing the wound. This stung much worse, and Kaspar let out a groan of agony and clenched his fists. It was like a thousand needles had stabbed all at once, and it took the last of his waning strength to stifle the pain.

Finally, the man began to stitch closed what he could, and dressed the wound. It wasn't ideal, but then neither was being bitten by such a vicious and vile creature. However, it was going to save his life, and that meant he'd live to fight the darkness once more.

When he was done, Cedrik gave another prayer and then helped Kaspar sit up. Digging through his bag, he produced yet another flask, this one more ornate than the others. Uncorking the top, he handed it to his patient.

"Here, drink this," he ordered as the Kaspar took the flask. "The silver will help fight the infection, but this will prevent the madness and fever. It smells foul and tastes worse, but it's better than losing your sanity."

Kaspar barely acknowledged what was said as he threw his head back and drank the disgusting concoction. He knew what it was for, and thanked the Lord that he had had the sense to recruit the man to begin with. Cedrik wasn't much of a fighter compared to the others, but his knowledge of such supernatural things was unmatched.

After a few minutes of rest, Kaspar finally worked himself up to his feet again. He was in serious pain, but pain meant he was alive. Scanning the area, he saw the bloodied mass of the creature that had attacked them, and wondered where the others were. There had surely been more, and yet only this one was brave or foolish enough to face them.

"The accursed thing couldn't withstand the silver of our blades," young Aron said as he approached his mentor. "It's amazing how effective the metal is."

Kaspar nodded in agreement. "Yes, but do you know why it works so well?"

The youth thought on this for a moment before answering. "Because of how pure the silver is?"

Letting out a strained laugh, the older man clapped Aron on the shoulder and shook his head. "Lycans are highly allergic to silver. A mere cut causes the skin to burn and peel, and prolonged exposure can cause serious infection. Pustules will form, and eventually the flesh will begin to rot off."

"However, they also carry a foul disease that we are incredibly weak to. It causes a hellish fever, expulsion of stomach contents mixed with blood, and retardation of mental faculties. Treating wounds with silver extract and imbibing a special tonic are the only known ways to combat it."

Crossing his arms across his chest, Aron looked down at the bloody mass of fur before them. "Have you fought many?"

"I can count on one hand the number of these things I've seen. They're incredibly rare. We believe they are the result of some sorceress' curse, but we cannot be sure," Kaspar said in a dissatisfied tone. "Whatever they are, they need to be exterminated. They are an affront to the Lord himself."

Aron's eyes lit up at that, and he gave a toothy grin. "Then let us pray that we finish tonight's mission quickly, so that we may hunt down the others and put an end to their terror."

Dragging their fallen comrade from the blackened river, a few of the men began to remove various articles from the body. As Kaspar watched, he mouthed a silent prayer for the man. They would need to salt and burn the remains to prevent the spirit from returning vengeful and angered, a special rite would need to be read to prevent the corpse from turning, and finally a prayer that the man's soul would find it's way into heaven. It was a lot of work, but it was a part of their bylaws and their duty.

Though the pain in his shoulder was immense, Kaspar found the strength and will to carry on. Every movement wracked his body with an agony he had never experienced before, and he prayed that the medicine was doing its job. He wasn't sure how long it would take for the fever to set in, but he did know that the illness moved swiftly once it infected a host. He had only seen it take a victim one other time, and the man died long before the full effect of the disease could be examined.

The others kept a wary eye on him, and none but Aron or Cedrik would get close. Most kept a nervous hand on their blades, fearing they might have to put him down like a rabid dog. This was perhaps the first encounter most had ever had with such a beast, though all had heard the tales; men that changed into massive beasts under the light of a full moon. The bites so infectious that they cause the recipient to also change. It was all folklore, but it was what most believed. They were brave men with iron wills, but they were not fools. Caution was the preferred path here.

The men were largely unfamiliar with the alchemical properties the treatment entailed, save for Cedrik himself. It was rather elementary to him, as he found science and medicine fascinating. Kaspar was glad he had the foresight to recruit the man, as his knowledge of such things was unparalleled. So, when Cedrik reassured him that the medication was working as intended, he believed him.

Making their way back to the trail they had abandoned in their flight, the men watched the trees and underbrush for movement. There had been a symphony of those beasts earlier, and now there was eerie silence. It was unnerving how quiet the forest had fallen, but somehow befitting of the evening's events. Even the slightest rattling of leaves would cause them alarm, as everyone was on edge.

Miraculously, they hadn't wandered as far from the trail as Kaspar first thought. With little effort they were able to once again track their charges to the northwest. The trail of blood seemed to worsen for a bit before it vanished entirely, which he thought was odd. If they had bled out, there would have been either a body or signs of one being dragged off by the others. In this case, there was neither, which could only mean that they somehow managed to stop the bleeding.

To Kaspar, something wasn't right. He knew what their capabilities were, and healing serious wounds was both incredibly taxing and dangerous. All the more reason to avoid such things, he told himself. It wasn't natural, and he highly disapproved of the method.

The team trudged onward in silence, listening to the sounds of the night. Nothing stirred, not even the wind that blew lightly across the treetops just an hour before. If a leaf were to fall, they'd know it. It was the kind of silence that made the heart beat louder and faster, and it seemed ever more prevalent thanks to the heavy darkness.

They continued in this fashion for some time before they came to a clearing, and for just a brief moment Kaspar felt relief. Leaning against an ancient oak, he reached into his coat and procured a small flask. With a shaky hand he uncapped it, knocked back his head, and took a swig. Quickly his eyes scanned the others to ensure none were watching, and hastily put it way.

A loud screech brought everyone to attention, and Kaspar took a few steps towards the clearing before reaching for his spare gun. The others did much the same and brandished their weapons, but none dared move. Instead they stood there and waited.

The moon was full and bright, but produced little in the way of light. The land below was still enveloped in a thick blanket of darkness, hiding whatever it was that awaited them. The thing screeched again, this time from higher up in the trees.

"What ungodly abomination would make such a horrific noise?" Aron asked under his breath.

Suddenly, something swooped down out of the canopy above and grabbed one of the men, dragging him along the ground screaming and into a nearby tree. It was too dark and the beast moved too fast for them to catch more than a blurred glimpse. The few remaining men ran to where their comrade had been taken, and they could hear panicked yells and screams coming from the treetops. Then, the sounds similar to a butcher cleaving meat from a pig filled the night air.

The others backed away slowly and muttered their own prayers, but never took their eyes off the entangled branches above. Kaspar knew they were ill-equipped for such an encounter, and quietly led the others away while it was still preoccupied. He didn't want to risk losing more men to the bloody thing.

They continued on in utter silence, occasionally glancing over their shoulders back to where that thing had disappeared, and they started at every rustle of leaves or snapping twig. Though they were normally very strong in their resolve, they had already lost two of their companions to beasts that they had not come prepared to face. It was supposed to be a quick and easy hunt, and so far it had turned out to be a disaster.

Finally back on the trail, they left that nightmare in their wake and followed the tracks ever northward. Eventually the trees thinned out a bit, and the ground became hilly. A large ravine cut through between a few hills, and on the far side was a copse of maple and oak. However, this wasn't what caught their attention.

A strange light shone through the trees, a myriad of colors from reds to yellows to greens, and it pulsated like a beating heart. It entranced the men, as it seemed to dance slowly back and forth in the night. They couldn't see the source of the queer illumination, but Kaspar knew that they had finally arrived at their destination.

Quietly he led them down the hillside and to the ravine, and found a felled tree had already been laid across the gap as a sort of makeshift bridge. Across the tree and on the other side, they crept up to the treeline on the very edge of the grove, and he made the signal for the others to prepare themselves.

"We are now on unholy ground," he cautioned the others. "Only the Almighty can help us now, and pray that he gives us the strength to smite this evil."

Inwards they crept, as silently as any hunter, until they came to what appeared to be the center of the small forest. The light was now bright and nearly blinding, and they could hear a faint murmuring from a bit further within. Finally, they were within sight of their marks, but froze in their tracks.

There were two women, stark naked, kneeling before a pile of stone that seemed to be situated in a very specific and peculiar way to make an altar. On top lay what appeared to be a dead body, and hovering above was a sphere that was clearly the source of the light. A swirl of colors had coalesced and taken form, and illuminated the interior of the grove. There was an odd buzzing noise, and Kaspar could only assume it came from the ball of light.

Motioning for the others to spread out, they quickly surrounded the women and had their weapons drawn. The women didn't notice them at first, but when they did one screamed and grabbed the arm of the other. In an instant, the light dissipated and was gone.

"In the name of the Lord, we have come to put an end to your devil worship and evil schemes," Kaspar announced brusquely. "You and your coven have been charged with witchcraft, an activity deemed illegal by the church and whose punishment is death by hanging."

The women were terrified and shivering as they tried to cover themselves. Then one drew herself up ever so slightly and stepped forward. Her hair was a dark brown and hung loose down her shoulders and back. She looked to be middle-aged, as she had a few creases on her face. Her eyes were dark, but there was a fire behind them that Kaspar didn't care for.

"You are insane," she retorted. "We worship no devil or demon. We have done nothing wrong, nor do we acknowledge your church and its ways."

Kaspar gave a shrug at this. "It matters not. The king himself, however, does acknowledge the church and its laws. He, himself, has declared your craft and beliefs to be illegal, and has sentenced all who practice to death."

"However," he continued, "there is still hope. Denounce your wicked ways, denounce Lucifer as your lord and master, and accept Christ as your savior. Do this, and you will be spared."

The woman seemed offended, and the other still too scared to answer. "You expect us to turn our backs on our beliefs because of some half-baked ultimatum? You demand we throw away everything we are for some upstart deity?" the brunette asked.

"No, I don't," Kaspar replied coolly. "I know your kind and I know you never will, because you never do. You are far too set in your ways to see the light. The Almighty is a forgiving creator, but he will not tolerate your paganism. It is an abomination."

With no warning, Kaspar raised his pistol and fired. The younger girl yelped and slumped to the ground, doubled over and gasping.

"Corina!" shrieked the brunette, and she frantically knelt down beside her friend and held her. Looking back at Kaspar, there were tears in her eyes, and something else. Something a bit more final.

Rage.

"You monster! How could you do something so horrible and cruel!?"

Ignoring her cries, Kaspar motioned for the others to move in. Aron was the first one to reach the women, and he reached down for the one that had been shot. The brunette's head snapped to look at him, and her arm reached up and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Then, loudly, she shouted "Ecksplodere!"

In a burst of flame and a loud snap, Aron was sent flying backwards into a nearby tree and collapsed to the ground. The others stopped where they stood, aimed their guns and fired.

"Avlede!" the woman yelled, and the men's shots ricocheted off her as if she were made of steel and whirred into the surrounding darkness.

"You will leave this sacred grove now," she warned angrily. "You do realize who rules this land, yes?"

This was a peculiar question, but Kaspar scoffed at it all the same. "Of course I do. King Ragnar of Thaumgar."

"No, you fool. You have crossed over into land that belongs to Queen Elsa of Arendelle," she said through gritted teeth. "She doesn't accept the church's outrageous demands, and has declared the Sami and other faiths to be just as sacred. It is now you who has broken the law."

"That heathen of a queen doesn't deserve the crown on her head," he retorted. "She is an affront to the Lord, and will be dealt with in due time. Now then, I happen to know you are too exhausted to use any more of your tricks, so now you will hang."

The others quickly ran in and grabbed her, though they were apprehensive in their actions. For some reason, the woman didn't offer a fight. She looked down at the girl at her feet, who had finally bled out. Then she glanced to the body atop the altar, and Kaspar followed her gaze.

Curious, he stepped forward until he had a clear view, and raised his torch. It was another woman, young like the one he had shot, and he could see that her arm had been mauled. Perhaps they had run into the lycan as well. Whatever the case, the wound explains the blood he had found before.

They lead the woman over to a nearby tree, and tied a length of rope around her neck to form a noose, then tossed the other end over a branch of the tall oak. As they prepared to hang her, Cedrik inspected Aron's injuries and was relieved at his condition. He was still alive, and had simply been knocked unconscious. The burn on his chest was terrible, but beyond that he was merely bruised from his impact with the tree.

Once they were ready, Kaspar read a passage from their scripture as the others slowly lifted her off her feet. At first she didn't react, but a few moments of no air and she started flailing and panicking. After only a couple minutes, her body went limp and swayed slowly like a pendulum until it was still.

Once the woman was taken care of, Kaspar began to read yet another passage, this time a purification rite and blessing. The others set about to preparing the grove to receive the prayer, and began saturating the ground with containers of oil. Standing at the entrance to the grove, he finished the ritual and closed the book. He had recited it so many times he had it memorized, yet he still preferred to read it aloud. It gave him a sense of grandeur and purpose, a feeling that he was every bit as important as the scripture itself.

With the last word spoken, he waited for the others to complete their tasks. After the last man exited the trees, he lifted his torch and tossed it into the center of the clearing. With a flash flames shot out in all directions, spreading to the underbrush and smaller maple trees. He stood there for a time, watching everything burn to ash. Finally, he placed his book back into his bag and said a prayer.

As they gathered their gear and began to make their way back to civilization, Kaspar had a troubling thought that he couldn't shake. It was something that accursed woman had said about Queen Elsa. She didn't accept the church's laws. She was a heathen and an abomination, and that was when he knew what must be done.

Queen Elsa had to die.