I slipped through the dense underbrush of the dark forest, my steps silent and deliberate. The moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, casting an eerie gloom over the twisted trees and tangled roots that surrounded me. With each step, I could feel the weight of the stolen forging glasses on my face, concealing my glowing eyes. It was a peculiar trait, one that both blessed and burdened me. But tonight, it was an advantage I intended to exploit.

The forging glasses had been an impulse theft, an unexpected deviation from my usual line of work as a mercenary. But something about those glasses had called to me, beckoning me to possess them. Once I put them on, my vision in the dark was further enhanced, like a predator gifted with heightened senses. It was as if the night came alive, every detail highlighted, every shadow defined. The veil of darkness that others found debilitating became my ally, granting me an edge in this world of shadows and chaos.

I had tracked my mark for days, a werewolf who was once a magician whose experiments with natural science had gone horribly wrong. His transformation had been the result of a fateful encounter, a single bite that had forever changed the course of his life. The forest had become his sanctuary, his hunting ground, and I was determined to bring an end to his rampage.

I was ready to capture or kill this unfortunate soul.

In the distance, a mournful howl pierced the stillness of the night. It was him. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, a reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond my line of sight. The werewolf's twisted form moved with agility and strength that rivaled the creatures of nightmares. But I was no ordinary opponent.

I adjusted the straps of my crossbow, ensuring that it was secure and ready for action. Silver-tipped bolts rested in the quiver on my back, crafted specifically to exploit the werewolf's vulnerability. As I closed in on his location, my senses heightened, attuned to the subtlest of movements and sounds. The rustle of leaves, the crack of a twig, each sign whispered his presence.

Drawing closer, I took a moment to steady my breath, to quiet the thundering of my heart. The anticipation coiled within me, a predator ready to strike. I knew I had to act swiftly, for the werewolf's strength grew with the waxing moon, and time was not on my side.

Through the tangle of trees, I caught a glimpse of his hulking figure, backlit by a sliver of moonlight. The sight was both awe-inspiring and chilling. The once brilliant magician had become a twisted creature, his humanity all but consumed by the beast within. His fur was matted and dark, his eyes wild with hunger and pain.

I stepped into the clearing, my presence shrouded in darkness. The werewolf's head snapped towards me, his nostrils flaring as he caught my scent. He let out a guttural growl, a warning of the battle to come. But I was undeterred.

With a fluid motion, I raised my crossbow, the silver bolt poised to find its mark. Our eyes locked for a brief moment, his feral and mine glowing with an otherworldly light. In that instant, I saw the torment within him, the struggle between man and beast.

The werewolf lunged forward, a creature driven by primal instincts. But I was faster. I dodged his attack with a dancer's grace, evading his razor-sharp claws. I retaliated, loosing the bolt from my crossbow, aiming for the vulnerable spot beneath his ribcage. It found its mark, sinking deep into the flesh with a sickening thud.

A pained howl tore through the night as the werewolf stumbled, his strength waning. I seized the opportunity, closing the distance between us. With each strike, my blade danced with deadly precision, cutting through fur and sinew. The fight was fierce, a symphony of snarls and grunts, but I had the advantage. The forging glasses had unlocked a realm of visibility that even the werewolf could not comprehend.

Finally, the creature collapsed to the forest floor, his body wracked with convulsions. The battle was over. I stood over the fallen werewolf, my breath ragged and my body covered in a sheen of sweat. It was a bittersweet victory, for I had witnessed the destruction of a man who had once sought knowledge and power.

As the moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting its pale glow upon the scene, I removed the forging glasses from my face. My glowing eyes returned, the light within them dimming. The night would no longer be my ally, but I had accomplished what I set out to do.

Andrea, the rogue mercenary, had fulfilled her mission. The howls of the werewolf would haunt me no more, and the forest would find respite from its own twisted creation.