Chapter 2

"So, are you going to explain how one of my men ended up dead?" a man in a black suit demanded, his voice strained with frustration.

"Don't forget who you're talking to, Fred." A female voice cut through the tension. She stood tall, silver hair framing her face and silver eyes glowing with a dangerous gleam. Her business suit barely hid the power that simmered beneath, and a growl rumbled in her chest.

The men behind Fred slowly raised their weapons, eyes flickering nervously.

"Oh?" The man facing the widow tilted his head, his voice smooth as silk. He ran a hand through his black hair, his jawline sharp, his posture effortless. As he spoke, his eyes began to bleed crimson, the change slow and deliberate. His calm demeanor sent a wave of unease through Fred's men, making them hesitate. One by one, their guns shook in their hands before they lowered them to their hips.

"Now, there's no need for violence." His crimson eyes faded, replaced by a calm silver. He offered a slight grin. "I do apologize for her aggression, but rest assured, my wolves are investigating as we speak."

Fred adjusted his tie, his expression tightening. "It's alright. I have the government breathing down my neck."

He leaned back, eyes narrowing. "The real question is, why was a wendigo in wolf territory, Damien?" he asked, settling into the chair.

Damien walked around his desk, his presence alone enough to stir unease in the room. "Simply put," he began, his voice low and steady, "the world is changing. More humans are finding themselves knocking on death's door. And the magical world is cleaning up the mess."

Fred raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and skepticism. "What does this have to do with anything?" he asked, his voice laced with impatience.

"Everything," Damien replied, his gaze sharp. "You see, this beast found a chance to fill its belly. Of course, it didn't survive, but these creatures mostly live in snowy regions. The question is—why did it move its hunting grounds? There are only two possibilities: either someone relocated it, or it changed its hunting grounds on its own."

He paused, then continued, his voice steady. "I believe more will soon begin to change behavior, as more humans uncover hidden truths of this world."

"What are you implying?" he asked, his voice tight with nervousness.

"That one day, the wolves will have no choice but to remove themselves from the treaty."

"What?!" His eyes widened in disbelief. "The reason magical laws stand is because the wolves—no, because the nobles uphold them. If you remove yourselves, others will follow, and then the humans will be left to fend for themselves."

Damien sat with his legs crossed, the silver-haired female sitting on his lap. "This matter will be left to my son's future," he said, a flicker of amusement in his voice. "He's not exactly fond of humans." He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost predatory.

"But why were you—"

Damien cut him off, his voice sharp and firm. "Once the world knows, creatures of all kinds will no longer see a reason to hide. And with that, crimes will rise, making our jobs harder for the supernatural and Wizards."

"The only thing keeping them in line is the nobles' laws," Damien said, his voice cool. "But now, the vampires are seeking to break the treaty. 

Fred's face twisted with panic. "What? Those bastards we have been supplying blood to them? And this is how they treat us? You've got them on a leash, right?"

Damien's hand rested thoughtfully on his chin. "Of course."

Fred's gaze shifted, redirecting the conversation. "And which son were you talking about?"

"My second son, Sebastian," Damien replied, his eyes narrowing.

Fred hesitated before asking, "What about Michael?"

At the sound of his name, the silver-haired female visibly flinched, fear creeping into her expression.

"Oh, Selen," Damien said with a hint of amusement. "I almost forgot—my dear son nearly killed you."

He turned back to Fred. "Michael is...lazy, and off doing whatever he's doing. But when it comes to family, he'll show up and back any decision made."

Thousands of miles away in Japan, a man in casual clothing sat at a dimly lit bar, nursing a beer with a casual air, his movements slow and deliberate. The cool liquid slid down his throat, leaving no trace of effect. Suddenly, he sneezed, his head tilting slightly as if responding to some unseen presence.

His black hair, messy but sharp against the glow of the bar, caught the light. Silver eyes, cold and intense, flicked around the room for a moment, as if seeking something. Despite his youthful appearance, there was a quiet strength in his posture, as though his frame had been honed by something much older than his years.

He stood up, dropping a tip onto the counter, but before he could leave, a flicker of movement caught his attention. Out of nowhere, a wand appeared in the air, and a Latin phrase sliced through the air like a whisper from the past. A violent blast shot toward him, hurling him backwards into the bar. Splinters of wood and shards of glass exploded in his wake as the walls crumbled around him.

"Ouch, that hurt…" he muttered, his neck cracking as he straightened. His eyes flared crimson, the air around him warping with a palpable heat. His clothes tore apart as his body expanded, muscles rippling beneath a coat of dark fur. Clawed hands clenched into fists, and his teeth sharpened into vicious points. He rose to twelve feet, towering over the bar, which now seemed minuscule in comparison. A primal growl vibrated through his chest before he threw his head back and unleashed a roar that shook the very foundations of the room.

"Shit, he's a Noble!" the hooded figure gasped, flicking his wand with urgency. "Translocatio!"

He vanished into thin air, but outside, silhouetted against the night sky, stood a group of men, enchanted swords gleaming in their hands.

"So, this is supposed to be a kidnapping?" he muttered to himself, his monstrous form casting a shadow that swallowed the light.