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Chapter 3: Fang and Shadow
The forest was alive with whispers.
Crickets hummed. Leaves rustled. The moon cut pale silver paths across the undergrowth.
Malik stood in the darkness, barefoot, his once-tattered clothes hanging loosely on his now-transformed frame. His white hair glowed faintly under the starlight, violet eyes scanning the night like blades.
Three days had passed since his awakening. He had not returned to the academy, nor to the city. Instead, he lingered in the wilderness, learning to move, to control the storm within him.
The hunger was constant. A gnawing void in his chest that no food could fill. He had discovered that small animals—rabbits, foxes, even a wolf—satisfied it, if only briefly. Each time, the virus surged through him, evolving, sharpening.
But tonight was different. Tonight, something hunted him.
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A low growl rumbled through the trees.
Two golden eyes glowed in the shadows, followed by a hulking frame. A tiger—no, not a tiger. Its stripes pulsed with black veins, its fangs jagged and overlong, saliva dripping like acid. The Blacklight virus in Malik stirred violently at its presence.
"A mutation," Malik murmured, calm despite the beast's size. His lips curved faintly. "Perfect."
The tiger lunged, a blur of muscle and fang.
But Malik was already gone.
The world slowed to a crawl as violet sparks lit the forest. In his perception, the beast's charge was sluggish, clumsy. He reappeared behind it, one hand slicing through the air—biomass tendrils lashing from his arm like living whips.
The tiger roared, spinning wildly, but Malik moved again. Each step was a thunderclap, each strike a blur of claws and lightning.
Within seconds, the monster collapsed, its body convulsing as Malik's tendrils pierced its hide, draining its corrupted life into his own. He inhaled sharply, power flooding him, his muscles tightening, senses sharpening.
The corpse withered to nothing.
Malik exhaled, his breath misting in the cold air.
"Yes… this is only the beginning."
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Back in the capital, rage simmered.
Nabila sat rigid in the grand hall of House Aderenle, her hands clenched on her lap as her father and the King conversed over wine.
"The beast tide is coming," the King said grimly, his crown catching the firelight. "My scouts report a swelling of mutated creatures in the forests. In three weeks, they will strike the city in waves."
Lord Aderenle nodded solemnly. "The Shadow Guard will be deployed. My daughter will be secured as priority."
Nabila's jaw tightened. Secured. Caged. Sold like a pawn.
Her father's eyes flicked toward her. "Nabila. You will remain within the palace until the tide passes. The engagement ceremony with Prince Richard will be announced shortly after."
Her heart twisted, but her face remained cold, unreadable. She gave no protest, but inside, her fury boiled. Even now… even as danger rises, they care only for alliances and power.
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From the shadows of the hall, a presence stirred.
A woman stepped forward, clad in black silk and armor light as shadow. Her face was veiled, her eyes gleaming like twin shards of midnight. Daggers, chains, and spell-seals shimmered faintly along her belt.
"Nyx," the King said, his tone respectful despite her station. "Daughter of the Night. The empire's blade in darkness. You will watch over Lady Nabila until this crisis passes."
Nyx knelt silently, her aura cold, lethal.
"By your will," she murmured, her voice smooth as silk, deadly as poison.
Nabila's gaze lingered on the assassin. For a moment, their eyes met. Nyx tilted her head slightly, as though she could already read the storm in Nabila's heart.
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Far away, beneath the stars, Malik stood amidst the ashes of his kill. His body hummed with stolen vitality, his eyes glowing brighter with every heartbeat.
The academy was behind him. The city ahead.
The beast tide loomed, chaos gathering on the horizon.
And Malik—child of chaos, predator reborn—smiled faintly.
"Let them come."
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