-- The First Feast — Hollow Falls, Midnight. --
The storm hadn't quieted when Lucian stalked out of the woods and into the edge of the city.
Six centuries of slumber had left his limbs aching and his veins hollow, the hunger gnawing at his insides like broken glass. His fangs itched at the scent of blood drifting from a roadside dive bar whose neon sign buzzed dimly against the rain.
Through the window, he saw the patrons: a handful of men hunched over drinks, a few women laughing near the jukebox, and a bartender wiping glasses with his back turned. Ordinary humans. Easy prey.
The bell over the door jingled when he stepped inside, the sound strangely soft beneath the pounding music. Heads turned—just enough to notice the stranger in the long, rain-soaked coat with the pale skin and wolf-bright eyes.
The bartender frowned.
"Kitchen's closed, pal."
Lucian's lips curved faintly, revealing his fangs. "I'm not here for the kitchen."
The first scream tore through the music like a blade. By the time it fell silent, the jukebox had stopped spinning and the floor was slick with blood. Lucian stood in the center of the carnage, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath as his strength returned, muscles flexing beneath his skin as though waking with him.
He wiped the crimson from his mouth with the back of his hand and whispered to himself, almost reverent:
"The world still bleeds the same."
-- The Hunters' Trap — An Hour Later --
Word of the slaughter traveled fast. Faster still were the hunters.
Lucian left the bar with a steady, predatory stride, the rain washing streaks of blood from his hands as he followed the scent of old magic—his siblings' scent, faint but unmistakable after centuries apart. He was halfway across a deserted bridge when a crossbow bolt whistled past his cheek.
Three figures stepped out of the mist at the far end of the bridge, silhouettes bristling with stakes, chains, and silver-tipped arrows. Hunters—modern, but carrying the same arrogance he'd seen in their kind a hundred lifetimes ago.
"On your knees, monster," the leader barked. "You're not the first thing we've killed."
Lucian tilted his head, bemused. "I believe you. But I promise, I'll be the last you ever see."
He blurred forward with inhuman speed. The first hunter barely had time to scream before Lucian's claws tore through his chest. The second loosed a silver arrow that Lucian caught mid-air and drove through the man's own heart.
The leader managed to swing his blade, slicing across Lucian's ribs, but the wound closed before his eyes as Lucian's strength, fed on fresh blood, knit flesh and bone together in seconds.
"You should've brought more friends," Lucian said, then snapped the man's neck with a single twist.
The rain washed the bodies toward the river as Lucian continued on, unfazed.
-- The Witches' Warning --
He found the first traces of warding spells near the outskirts of the old Wolfe grounds—sigils burned into trees, small bundles of ash and bone nailed to the trunks.
A voice floated from the shadows:
"You walk where you're not welcome, hybrid."
Six witches stepped out from the tree line, their black coats glistening with rain. Their leader, a tall woman with silver charms braided into her hair, raised a hand wreathed in green fire.
Lucian studied her with faint curiosity. "You're not my enemies—yet. Stand aside."
"Your kind has no place here," the witch hissed. "We'll return you to the earth you crawled out of."
Lightning cracked overhead as their chants rose in unison, the air humming with the force of their spell. Lucian felt the tug of binding magic trying to sink into his bones, but his wolf half rebelled—snarling, breaking the threads like brittle twine.
He lunged at the nearest witch, shoving her aside hard enough to send her flying into a tree trunk. The others faltered as the hybrid's power surged like a tidal wave.
"Last warning," he growled, voice low but edged with promise. "I'm not here for you. Don't make me change my mind."
The leader stepped back, the green fire in her palm flickering uncertainly. Lucian bared his fangs in a cold smile before turning away, leaving them standing silent amid the storm.
-- The Doorstep — Wolfe Manor, 3 A.M. --
The Wolfe estate had changed little. The city had grown around it, but the heart of the family's home remained the same—a sprawling Gothic manor of stone and shadow, its windows glowing faintly with candlelight.
Lucian stood at the foot of the porch for a long moment, rain dripping from his coat as memories pressed against his chest: the laughter of centuries past, the echo of the night they betrayed him.
Finally, he knocked. Once. Heavy. Final.
The door opened to reveal Adrian Wolfe, older in bearing but still the brother whose eyes once carried warmth. That warmth flickered now into shock, then wariness.
"Lucian… no. It can't be you."
Lucian's smile was faint but genuine, touched by a century of bitterness.
"Miss me, little brother?"
Behind Adrian, another voice cut in—cold, controlled.
"Adrian, who is it?"
Aveline Wolfe stepped into view at the top of the staircase, wrapped in a silk robe, her hair unbound. The moment her gaze landed on Lucian, her breath hitched, though her face betrayed nothing but poise.
"You're supposed to be stone and dust," she said softly.
Lucian's eyes flickered with something darker than anger, older than forgiveness.
"I was. But family has a way of bringing you back."
For a long heartbeat, no one moved. The rain pattered against the windows, the house holding its breath around them.
Finally Aveline descended the stairs, every step deliberate. She stopped just short of him, her face inches from his.
"You've returned drenched in blood," she murmured. "What are you here for, Lucian? Revenge?"
Lucian tilted his head, the faintest glint of a smile returning, sending a cold shiver down his sister's spine.
"For now? A warm welcome. Then… we'll discuss old debts."
Adrian looked from one sibling to the other, sensing the storm brewing between them.
"For tonight," he said quietly, "let's just call it a reunion."
Lightning flashed across the sky as the front door shut behind them, sealing the Wolfe siblings together again under the same roof—for the first time in six hundred years.
|-| To Be Continued |-|