Part 1: La Bête du Gévaudan

Whispers carried on the wind, chilling the bones of even the bravest souls in 18th-century France. From the rugged hills of Gévaudan, a terror stalked the land. They called it La Bête – The Beast. Not a wolf, not a bear, but something… else. Witnesses spoke of an animal of unnatural size, with reddish fur, powerful jaws lined with teeth like daggers, and a long, sinuous tail. It moved with uncanny speed and cunning, seemingly impervious to bullets.

The first documented attack occurred in 1764, a young woman tending her flock. She survived, but others weren't so lucky. Soon, the Beast was claiming victims with horrifying regularity, mostly women and children. Fear gripped the region. Entire villages huddled indoors, doors barred, windows shuttered, as the Beast's chilling howls echoed through the night.

King Louis XV himself became involved, dispatching dragoons to hunt the creature. Famous hunters were brought in, offering their expertise, but the Beast seemed to mock their efforts, eluding every trap and ambush. Stories circulated of its incredible resilience, surviving point-blank shots and exhibiting unnatural strength.

Then, in 1767, Jean Chastel, a local hunter, stepped forward. Armed with silver bullets blessed by a priest, he confronted the Beast at Mont Mouchet. This time, the hunt ended differently. The Beast fell, its reign of terror finally over. Or so they thought…

The true story of the Beast began not on Earth, but among the stars. Hurtling through the void, a comet with a shimmering tail of ice and dust, emerged from the direction of the constellation Canis Major. Within its icy core, nestled amongst complex organic molecules, lay a retrovirus, unlike any found on Earth. As the comet grazed the upper atmosphere, fragments broke off, scattering across the southern French countryside. The virus, dormant for eons, found a new canine host. It rewrote the wolf's DNA, amplifying its aggression, size, and strength, transforming it into the monster that would become legend.

Part 2: La Vengeance du Gévaudan

Flash forward to 2099. Astronomers have been tracking a periodic comet for decades, its orbit bringing it close to Earth once more. Tracing its trajectory from the direction of Canis Major, the comet's arrival is predicted for March 24th; exactly one year before Polaris reaches its closest alignment with our north celestial pole.

Echoes of the past suddenly resurface. Strange reports begin filtering in from Gévaudan. Livestock disappears, followed by disturbing sightings: unusually large wolves, exhibiting unnatural ferocity. The virus has returned, carried by the comet, infecting a new generation of wolves. The Vengeance of Gévaudan has begun.

This time, humanity is better prepared. Drones equipped with thermal imaging and tranquilizer darts scour the countryside. Genetically modified dogs, immune to the virus, are deployed to track the infected wolves. The struggle is fierce, a desperate battle for survival echoing the terror of centuries past.

After weeks of relentless pursuit, the infected wolves are contained, the threat seemingly neutralized. Humanity breathes a collective sigh of relief. But this victory is short-lived.

Disturbing reports emerge from across the globe. In the skies above France, ghostly figures appear, phantom armies marching in silent formation, their tattered uniforms reminiscent of soldiers from the Hundred Years' War. The spectral image of Joan of Arc is seen burning at the stake.

Then, the Earth itself begins to tremble. Giant fissures open up, spewing forth plumes of fire and smoke. One such chasm appears in the very heart of Gévaudan, a gaping hole swallowing everything in its wake. The world watches in horror as these terrifying events unfold, a prelude to far more turbulent times as Polaris prepares itself for polar alignment on March 24, 2100.

Fin… du monde?