Isabella lowered her voice, her expression turning serious:
"A token of the Moon Speaker."
Douglas rubbed the whistle's cold surface, feeling the faint fluctuations of magic upon it:
"The Moon Speaker? Sounds like some sort of ancient legacy."
Her gaze swept over Douglas, then drifted toward Lupin, who stood warily beside him.
"The werewolf tribes in the Apennine Mountains are hardly one big, loving family. Apart from ones like the Ashen Claw Tribe, who can still be reasoned with, the rest... are more radical lunatics."
She paused, seemingly weighing her words.
"The special frequency this whistle produces is the sound of an ancient Contract.
It can allow those werewolf tribes that uphold tradition to suppress their bloodthirsty instincts and regain a moment of reason, even when it isn't a full moon. At the very least... they'll be willing to hear its bearer out."
Isabella looked into the depths of the dark woods, her eyes holding a trace of complex emotion that even she herself had not noticed.
"Ministry orders. This is as far as I can take you. You're their only hope. Keep yourself safe!"
Just then, an unusual, faint growl came from the woods, unlike that of an ordinary beast.
Lupin's brow furrowed slightly.
Isabella's expression changed abruptly, her tone turning icy:
"Did you hear that? That's what I was about to warn you about-the Red Moon Brotherhood!
A bunch of utterly depraved creatures who have already thrown in their lot with vampires.
They've been running rampant in the mountains lately, using brutal methods and targeting lone werewolves and magical creatures. They don't even spare Muggle villages!"
Douglas tightened his grip on the silver whistle, looking thoughtful.
Lupin had been standing silently half a step behind Douglas, but now he turned his head slightly, his nostrils twitching. His ears,