19 - Fragile Night

[Author Note : Yeah guys I'm back...]

"Alright... I see. And what do you think they want from you? From what you're telling me, it sounds like they're trying to approach you, right?" said the tall, blond werewolf.

"Hmmm... probably..." the young teenager replied as he ducked to avoid a tree branch.

"Yes, but for what reason?" the blond giant asked.

"For my abilities," Landon answered calmly.

A moment of silence settled between them. The werewolf glanced at the boy.

The two men continued walking through the woods.

"Alright... and if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are your abilities?" the colossus inquired as he followed Landon's steps, though unlike the boy, he didn't bother avoiding the many branches, which bent and snapped under his massive frame.

Landon take his time before responding.

They were still accompanied by the small, glowing blue wolf cub that trotted a short distance ahead, lighting the way.

"Let's just say that, in addition to controlling fire, I can also use it to heal wounds, illnesses, and ailments..." the brown-haired teenager said, continuing to walk calmly.

His massive companion glanced at him, noticing he didn't seem eager to elaborate.

"Well, except fire, this is something you have in common with us werewolves," said Vinny.

Landon turned to his companion, confused.

"What do you mean?"

Vinny explained that werewolves have the ability to absorb pain and suffering from the wounded or sick, easing their burden slightly.

"Hmmm... I didn't know that." The boy's gray-green eyes flickered for a second.

"It doesn't actually heal the person, but it helps..." the werewolf concluded.

They resumed their walk toward the forest's edge, the fiery cub blue wolf three meters ahead, waiting for them.

"Still, that's pretty interesting. And what else can you do?"

The colossus took his time to think before answering pensively.

"Well, they say the most skilled werewolves can enter people's minds..."

"Really?" Landon grimaced at the strangeness of that ability.

"Yes, it's a rather difficult practice that only an Alpha can usually perform. It requires digging their claws into the nerves of the neck..." Vinny continued, stepping on more branches that cracked under his weight.

"Well... the supernatural world is truly curious..." Landon murmured, surprised.

The scarred man behind him nodded at those words.

"And tell me, do you know of any other supernatural races?" the boy asked softly, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"I know a few, but from my experience, besides werewolves, there are Wendigos, for example a truly gruesome race. There are also Berserkers. I've encountered a few in New Mexico... they're a terrible people too," Vinny murmured, his mind drifting as his hand instinctively reached for the scar on his cheek.

Landon silently glanced back at him.

"Unfortunately, the supernatural is often cruel and ruthless. There's more evil than good behind the veil..." the giant sighed.

"I suppose..." Landon said, recalling his own encounters with the supernatural so far. Few had been kind or pleasant.

Vinny was far more experienced and knowledgeable than Mickael, the Wendigo. It made sense that the two weren't even comparable.

'(The Wendigo had spent most of his life hiding and hunting girls or children...)' Landon thought.

"Is there any truth in popular culture? I mean, if werewolves are real, then what about vampires or witches?" the boy asked. He had asked Mickael the same question before and had received a negative response.

"HAHAHA... No, no vampires, I'm sure of that. Maybe they existed in the past, but if they did, they've been gone for a long time now..." the giant replied, his booming laughter startling birds from the trees.

'Hmmm, same answer...' Landon thought, somewhat relieved.

"As for witches, there aren't any either..." Vinny started.

"However..." Vinny continued, thinking of something.

"There is a group that comes close... Druids," he finally said.

"Druids?" Landon questioned, watching the werewolf nod.

"No magic powers or anything like that. In fact, Druids are fully human, not supernatural at all... and yet, there's no people who understand the supernatural better than they do, its practices, its secrets, its mysteries..." Vinny continued as they walked on, the distant lights of the sleeping city now visible.

"You see, Druids use their knowledge of the supernatural world. They can brew potions, forge weapons, and perform strange rituals..."

Landon listened quietly, learning more about this curious world that seemed almost abandoned.

"There's a legend about them that says: for those with the right predisposition... they can enchant the mind and deceive the senses. They can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stop death..."

[Author's note: If you got the reference, you're my guy.]

"But in reality, Druids dont have so much power and they mainly act as guides to the supernatural, maintaining balance and helping those associated with them..."

"Some werewolf packs are allied with a Druid," the blond giant added.

"Other than that, I haven't encountered anything particularly unusual..." the werewolf concluded.

"Really?" Landon was genuinely surprised.

"Yes, why are you so surprised?" Vinny asked, confused by the boy's reaction.

Landon had been in this world for less than a month, yet he had already encountered a coyote that turned into a human, an entire family of supernatural cannibals, and shadowy ninja demons.

'Don't tell me I have some kind of protagonist's Halo effect...' the boy thought, grimacing at the idea that his life was destined to be chaotic and eventful.

And yet, a small part of him, the one influenced by Marco, was eagerly awaiting the next challenge, a smile on his lips.

Landon sighed and kept walking. Five minutes later, they reached the forest's edge, and the blue wolf, having completed its task, dissolved into the air.

"Do you have anywhere to go? I would have suggested staying in the woods, but..." Landon asked gently, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Vinny's face didn't change. He lowered his gaze to his hands.

"Is it temporary or permanent?" he asked in a low tone, deeper than his normally strong voice.

Landon looked at him silently for a few seconds.

"It's not entirely certain, but I'm fairly sure it's permanent."

Another moment of silence followed. Nearly a minute passed before

"I see..." the colossus finally responded.

Looking at this giant, it seemed like no physical, emotional, or even psychological damage could break him.

Yet in this moment, in this place, perhaps that wasn't true.

Vinny was still staring at his hands. He had tried before, and he tried again now, but nothing changed. There was only emptiness where his beast had once been.

The man, the giant who was no longer a werewolf just kept looking at his hands.

Maybe he still hoped to see claws and fur appear, or maybe he was simply coming to terms with the reality. His unreadable expression gave nothing away.

Landon observed, realizing that his method of keeping Vinny barely alive, nearly undetectable to hunters, had a cost. He had noticed it earlier, deep in the woods...

The werewolf had lost something to survive for so long, a part of himself sacrificed.

At first, Landon thought Vinny's lifespan had been affected, that he had at most five years left to live... and there was nothing he could do about it. After all, even he didn't have that power.

He couldn't transfer his own immortality to others, even though a fraction of it would be more than enough for most.

But it turned out that wasn't the issue. Instead, Vinny's wolf side had been the first to escape his life aura...

Landon's mind filled with hypotheses as he pondered the nature of werewolves, their inner beasts, and what this meant.

Time passed in silence.

The young man gave the former werewolf before him the respite he needed.

(What is he thinking about?) Landon watched the simple human now sitting in front of him.

(From Vinnie's story, Mickael's last words, this power... Lycanthropy. I know it comes with many drawbacks, considered by some a curse...) The young man with grayish emerald eyes observed the blond's expression.

And he was here still calm, unchanged none of his thoughts reflected on his face.

And this calm, peace of mind... without exacly knowing why annoyed the young phoenix .

Landon, voluntarily ignore it would be an intrusion, couldn't help but want to know more, privacy or not. It wasn't mere curiosity, he wanted to know...

Releasing his Haki, he let it surround the blond colossus before him, feeling his inner state...

The minutes flowing... the cold disappears at the same time as the woods are lit up with a soft orange glow while the yellow astre rises, the chirping of the birds takes place of the song of the cicadas

after a unknown time, Landon withdrew his Haki, his thoughts swirling behind his gray-green eyes.

In that instant, the young phoenix sincerely wondered, how could someone remain so impassive? That unshakable calm.. Was it detachment? Indifference? Or an inner strength that he himself did not possess?

( a part of himself , his identity was taken away... And he ..)

Comparing his Situation to Vinny's...

Vinny remained still, staring at his hands, lost in thought. His emotions were laid bare, yet his true thoughts remained his own.

Motionless and serene. Ignoring the young man before him, whose fists trembled from how tightly they were clenched, slipping past his clenched jaw, a grimace forming on his lips...

Silence stretched between them..

Two men, standing apart by mere meters, two similar situation, their existences shaken in the same way, their thoughts belonging only to themselves. two approaches, different behavior, arm in arm, only a step separated them, but the distance that separated them could well be as great as the world....

The cold wind blew against their silhouettes, and time, relentless, simply continued to pass...

*******************************************************

At the same time, under the cover of the silent night, a young girl stood motionless before a house. The residence was cordoned off with strips of yellow tape, stark warnings screaming "Do Not Cross" in bold, black letters. The wind tugged at the plastic, making it flutter softly

The red-haired teenager remained still, hazel eyes fixed on the house, unblinking. To an outsider, it might have looked like curiosity, or perhaps a morbid fascination. But they didn't see what she saw. They didn't hear what she heard.

A voice cut through the night.

"Alright, Lydia, I spoke to the officer on duty. He'll let us in," said a middle-aged man approaching her.

Sheriff Stilinski.

His voice was calm, but Lydia caught the slight hesitation in it.

"Most of the crime scene evidence has been collected. Except for the garden, the house has been searched from top to bottom. There's almost nothing left... I hope it will be enough for your—" he trailed off.

He studied her carefully. A girl too young to carry such a burden, and yet, here she was. The only one who could truly help.

Noah Stilinski hated relying on her gift—hated knowing the pain it inflicted on her. But the police and the FBI were at a standstill, and he had no choice.

"Lydia," he called, gentler this time.

"I heard you, Sheriff Stilinski. Let's go," Lydia murmured, her voice distant. But her gaze remained locked on the house, as if it held its own gravity, pulling her in.

Stilinski sighed. Together, they stepped forward, pushing aside the tarp that had been draped over the splintered remains of the front door.

Lydia flicked on her flashlight. The first thing it illuminated was the wall—brown wallpaper, peeling at the corners. The only thing left standing. The house was hollowed out, stripped clean. Even the shards of glass and debris had been removed.

Nothing.

Noah followed behind her, his own beam of light slicing through the emptiness.

"Follow me, I'll show you the room where—"

"I know where to go, Sheriff."

Her voice was soft, almost lost in the still air. She took a slow step forward, then another, fingers trailing along the cold wall.

And then, she closed her eyes.

Instantly, the silence was shattered.

A scream—raw, terrified, endless—pierced through her skull. Then another. And another. A chorus of agony, overlapping, tangled, suffocating. The weight of suffering clung to the air, thick like smoke, pressing into her chest.

"So many of them..." she whispered, barely breathing.

She let the echoes guide her, stepping forward until she reached the wall—the one that had once concealed the staircase to the basement.

She lowered her gaze.

And froze. Footprints.

Dozens, no hundreds, imprinted across the floor. Overlapping, trampling, as if too many bodies had been forced through the same narrow space.

Her stomach twisted.

"Didn't you say everything was cleaned up, Sheriff?" she asked, voice tight.

Stilinski frowned. "Everything except the garden was washed and wiped."

At his words, Lydia clenched her fists. Her eyes trembled.

( Right. Only me... )

Her fingers slowly relaxed. She exhaled through her nose, gaze dropping back to the countless footprints.

( And of all those who were dragged into that basement… only one survived. )

A leaden weight settled in her gut.

She took a step. Then another.

And then she stood at the top of the staircase. A deep breath and she began to walk.

Step by step, the air thickened, turning cold, damp, heavy. Each stair creaked beneath her weight, protesting against her presence.

She reached the basement floor.

The walls were bare. The stench of old decay, metal, rot clung to the air, seeping into her skin. The temperature had dropped, unnatural, as if something lingered in the void.

She exhaled. 'Fouhh…' Her breath came out visible in the frigid air.

And then she left the real world.

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer alone.

They were there. Everywhere.

A crowd of hollow figures, draped in tattered, white garments, skin marred with filth. Their faces, smeared with grime, their hair matted, blackened with dirt. Their bodies—skeletal, emaciated, barely human.

And their eyes.

Empty. Black voids that swallowed all light.

A sharp inhale, Lydia didn't move. The Banshee had only a few meters of empty space before her—and then, them. Encircling her in absolute silence.

Her breath hitched. She forced herself to lift her head.

"Can you…" Her voice barely carried.

No reaction.

"Can you help me?"

The dead remained still.

No sound.No movement.

Only the weight of their gazes, pressing down on her like a lead blanket.

She waited. Ten seconds. Thirty. A full minute.

Nothing.

Her nails dug into her palms. 'Fouhh…' She took a slow, steady breath.

Then, she stepped forward. One step.

Another.

She stopped before a woman—forty, maybe, though death had stolen any certainty.

her hollow eyes met.

A shiver ran down Lydia's spine.

 Her instincts screamed to look away, to run, to shut her eyes. But she refused.

She stared into the abyss.

And the abyss stared back. 

A vast, ink-black ocean stretched before her—endless, empty, eternal.

Her throat tightened.

'( Is this what is death? )'

Time lost meaning. One minute. Two. Three.

Then, suddenly... The spectral woman stepped aside. The child behind her did the same.

One by one, they parted. A narrow path, a single meter of empty space—opened before her.

Lydia stared at it. Then, at them. They had returned to stillness, observing. Always quietly watching.

'Ahhh…' She took a cautious step. Another.

And then...

A touch. Icy. Unnatural. Crawling up her spine like a breath of the grave.

She froze. Slowly, ever so slowly, she looked down. A hand.

Cadaverous. Cold. Fingernails black with dirt.

Her breath stilled. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

Another touch her left arm. A new grip her ankle.

" Hmm..." A reflexive groan at the frost naked crawling onto a more parts of her body. Bony fingers clung to her.

Her clothes offered no protection, she might as well have been bare...

But she didn't stop this time. Step after step, she kept going...

Cold hands gripped her all over, dozens of muddy fingers clutching at her.

The dead were not just watching her anymore. They were reaching.

Each step brought a new morbid company to her body, some hands letting go on her only to be replaced immediately.

'Hmm...' Lydia still held her breath.

Silence filled the room, punctuated only by the sound of her footsteps and her involuntary gasps...

She lost track of time, unsure of how far she had come.

But she refused to open her eyes to check.

So she kept moving, enduring the touch of the dead around her, hoping the path would eventually end.

And time seemed long, so long to her...

how much she wished she could be somewhere else...

Another step was taken, but this one met a firm obstacle. She stopped.

She was standing there, her red hair flaming, her eyelids closed, moisture at the corners of her eyes creating two damp paths on her cheeks, and cold hands invading her with cruel indifference, defiling every untouched space.

She opened her eyes... and saw a wall.

"FOUhhh" she exhaled the breath she had been holding for so long. She forced herself to focus on the wall, ignoring everything else...

She forced herself not to imagine what stood just behind her, keeping her eyes forward.

She saw that on the wall, two people were chained, their hands hanging from hooks.

A woman and a blond teenager. They looked like they were in a very, very bad state...

For now, they had a moment of respite, but their torment would resume once Lydia left this place.

There was also a third one, but he was empty. As she looked at him, she heard what sounded like a whisper.

She stared this side for a few seconds before turning her attention back to the wall.

The wall in front of her gradually turned into a transparent surface, like liquid. It glowed faintly, like an image.

Lydia watched as the image turned into a scene. It showed a basement, a man on the floor feasting on flesh, few metter away a terrified young girl hanging, suspended by her hands, and dozens of body bags held in the same way around her.

A sudden crash echoed from afar. The man on the floor stood up. His eyes were clouded, his nails and teeth blackened. He said something to the girl before hiding on the ceiling.

But Lydia didn't hear it. And then, the entire scene, what had happened here not long ago, played again on the wall.

Lydia watched all, the moment a young figure, their face hidden beneath a hood unfortunately, bursting into the room.

How he was then surrounded by the three Walcotts. And how, in an explosion of azure and golden fire, two figures were left charred on the ground.

The third assailant lay unconscious on the floor. The man behind all of this raised his hand, and his strange flame appeared, hovering in the air.

How The boy grabbed the last Walcott by the neck, and left with him.

The flame moved by itself toward the young girl, and then everything went black.

Lydia continued staring at what had become a wall once more.

'( That strange fire is the creation of this person...)' The redhead's thoughts swirled behind her green eyes.

She also realized she no longer felt the cold that had seeped into her or the foreign touch that had gripped her until now.

She turned around, and saw only an empty room, with Sheriff Stilinski watching her intently from the entrance.

"Fouhhh" relief washed over the young girl.

"(This is over.)" Lydia could finally breathe.

But she still hears a whisper, the same one she had when watching the third empty channel, it is a call to a location.

" Tomorrow we have a place to go Sheriff Stilisnky "

[Author Note : I also rewrote all the previous chapters, I took into account your criticism and i changed the things you criticized me the most,

the plot is not different but the story is more fluid and I added an important thing in particular, I invite you all to reread from the 1st chapter otherwise certain aspects of the next chapters will be unknown to you, Enjoy]