In Hazel's house, her daughter Mirabel was asleep when she suddenly woke up. Mirabel walked to the front door as if possessed and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge.
"You're not getting out today," Hazel shouted from behind her, her personal assistant, Paul, standing at her side.
Mirabel looked back angrily. "Open this door!" Her voice was distorted, wrong.
"No. You cannot leave this house. Wait until dawn," Hazel commanded.
Mirabel screamed—not like herself. She banged the door, desperate.
"Paul." Hazel's voice tightened. "Take her to her room."
Paul, a were‑panther, released his claws and rushed at Mirabel. She snarled and dodged his first punch, then slashed his stomach. Paul growled and stepped back. Mirabel grabbed his shoulder and punched him again and again.
Hazel kicked Mirabel from behind. Mirabel fell to her knees, spun, and caught Hazel's arm. She elbowed Hazel in the face and pinned her to the ground. Just as Mirabel raised her claws to strike, Paul dragged her off by the collar. Hazel scrambled up, and Paul flung Mirabel across the room.
Mirabel sprang up instantly and lunged at Paul. He blocked, kicked her stomach, but she felt no pain. She twisted his leg, and he screamed. Hazel ran to her room, grabbed a rope, and rushed back. Mirabel had already stabbed Paul badly. She broke the doorknob—but Hazel threw the rope around her neck and pulled tight until Mirabel lost consciousness.
Hazel dragged her daughter to the bedroom and tied her up, sadness heavy in her eyes. For a long moment, she just stared at Mirabel's face – her little girl, now something else. A tear slid down Hazel's cheek. She brushed it away quickly.
Paul limped in, holding his stomach. The wound was already closing, but his expression was grim.
"Can't you just let her be the vampire she's meant to be?" he asked.
"My daughter will not become a vampire." Hazel's voice cracked. "She's going to live a normal life. She's going to survive this."
"You know there's no solution. The only thing stopping her is her father's human blood. If the other vampires hear about this, you won't be spared. And even if they don't, on the next full moon she'll know what she is. She'll end up like you."
"I will stop her on the next full moon, and every full moon after that." Hazel fought back tears. "Because I'm a mother. That's what mothers do." She looked at Paul. "Go take care of anything that was broken. When it's time, I'll return her to her bed like nothing ever happened."
Paul hesitated, then nodded and left. Hazel sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Mirabel's hair, her hand trembling.
---
Meanwhile, in the mansion, Lillian Silver lay awake, staring at the castle keys on her nightstand. The moonlight hit the metal and made them glow like something from a fairy tale – but she didn't feel like a princess. She felt watched.
She turned over and punched her pillow. Sleep was a stranger. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blood. Her own blood, pooled on the ground far below the balcony. It wasn't real, she told herself. It couldn't be.
But her finger still tingled where the cut had been.
She sat up and pulled the keys into her palm. Tomorrow I'll go to the castle. Maybe there, the whispers will stop.
She had no idea that across the city, a war was already beginning.
---
Across the city, Herakim Healer had already come to help Blaine and the young man he had turned into a werewolf.
"So let me get this straight," Herakim Healer said, staring at the stranger. "You turned him into a werewolf… under a full moon?"
"I was trying to save him," Blaine replied. "It was an accident."
Herakim Healer rubbed his forehead. "Accident or not, he's your Beta now. Can you train someone who knows nothing? What if a vampire finds him first?"
"I'll try," Blaine muttered. His gut twisted. This is my fault.
"Blaine… he's different. Your other Betas were born into this life. They chose you. This one was turned by your claws. He's your responsibility – completely."
Blaine looked down.
A furious shout cut through the room. "What the hell did you do to me?!"
The young man thrashed against heavy chains, eyes glowing bright yellow. Sharp fangs filled his mouth. Coarse dark hair sprouted across his face and arms.
Herakim Healer approached carefully. "You're a Beta werewolf now. You'll have to fight the urge to hunt innocent people. And you answer to your Alpha."
He nodded toward Blaine. The new werewolf growled.
"I teach all new Betas this mantra," Blaine said, locking eyes with him. "Repeat after me: We fight, we lose, then we run to fight another day."
The guy kept snarling. Blaine's voice dropped into a low growl. "Say it."
"We fight… we lose… then we run to fight another day," the young man finally repeated. Blaine made him say it five more times until his breathing steadied.
"Not bad," Herakim Healer said with a small smile.
Blaine straightened. "No. I'll be great." He turned to the chained man. "What's your name?"
"Tony Parker."
Then Tony froze. His nose twitched. His eyes widened.
"Do you guys smell that?"
Blaine frowned. "Smell what?"
Tony's whole body tensed. "Something rotten. Wrath. Wickedness. And it's getting closer. Fast."
Herakim Healer's expression changed. "Herakim once described how vampires would smell if we could detect them."
Blaine's eyes widened. "You mean—"
"Untie him. Now!" Herakim Healer ordered. "If Tony can smell them, they're already close."
Blaine barely touched the chains before the window exploded.
Glass shattered inward. A male vampire landed first, followed by a female and two snarling were‑panthers. Their fingers were needle‑thin, their fangs longer and deadlier than any werewolf's. The were‑panthers dropped into crouches – sleek, feline, deadly.
"Too late to run, old man," the male vampire hissed at Herakim Healer.
Tony's voice trembled. "What's going to happen to us?"
Blaine extended his claws and stepped in front of him. "There's a good chance we all die here today," he said grimly. "But I'm not dying without a fight."
---
"What do you think will happen next? Drop a comment or a Power Stone if you want to see Blaine fight back!"