The First Hunt

The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying with it a chill that had nothing to do with the season. Ethan stared at the man on his doorstep, tension coiling in his gut like a living thing. Behind him, he could hear Anna's breathing—shallow, cautious. Daniel whimpered softly, still clutching his mother's sleeve.

The man didn't move. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into Ethan's own.

"You're being watched," the stranger said finally. "And if you stay here, they'll come for you."

Ethan's fingers twitched at his sides, the shadows beneath him stirring in response to his unease. "Who?"

The man exhaled slowly. "You've already felt them, haven't you? The ones who don't belong here. The gods, the things that should've stayed buried." His gaze flickered to Anna and Daniel. "They'll use them against you."

Ethan stiffened. "If you're threatening my family—"

"I'm warning you." The man took a step forward, and the dim porch light flickered as if recoiling from his presence. "They know what you are, what you're becoming. And they'll do anything to stop it."

A sudden weight pressed against Ethan's chest. The stranger from before, the whispers in his mind, the changes he could feel creeping through his body—it had all been leading to this.

Something had noticed him. And now, it was coming.

A noise cut through the wind. Distant, at first. A low, guttural growl, the kind that sent a primal warning deep into the bones. Then another. Closer.

Anna flinched. "Ethan—"

"I hear it," he murmured.

The man in the tattered coat turned his head slightly, listening. "They found you faster than I thought."

Then, before Ethan could react, the man shoved him backward, slamming the door shut between them.

A heartbeat later, the glass in the living room window shattered.

Anna screamed as something tore through the wall—a shape that was more shadow than flesh, its form writhing and distorting as it forced its way inside. A snarl echoed through the house, unnatural and grating, like metal scraping against bone.

Ethan spun, his instincts screaming. The darkness at his feet surged to life, tendrils snapping toward the intruder.

For the first time, he saw what had come for him.

It wasn't human. It had once been, maybe—a gaunt, elongated figure with hollowed-out eyes and a mouth stretched into something between a grin and a scream. Its skin was cracked, peeling, as though something had tried to claw its way out from inside. And its hands—long, jagged fingers tipped with blackened claws—reached for him.

A divine hound.

A hunter of those who walked too close to godhood.

Ethan didn't think. He moved.

The shadows obeyed him before he could even process the command. They coiled around the creature's limbs, wrenching it backward just as it lunged for his throat. It shrieked, its body twisting unnaturally as it fought against the bonds.

Anna grabbed Daniel and stumbled toward the hallway, her eyes wide with terror. "Ethan—"

"Get out," he ordered, his voice colder than he had ever heard it.

The creature shrieked again, and then suddenly, the shadows snapped apart.

Ethan barely had time to react before it was on him.

It struck with inhuman speed, claws slicing toward his chest. He twisted, dodging by instinct, but the force of the attack sent him crashing into the wall. Pain exploded across his ribs, but he pushed past it, forcing the darkness back into his grasp.

This time, he didn't just hold the creature.

He crushed it.

The shadows swarmed, slithering up its limbs, tightening like a vice. The divine hound thrashed, its hollow eyes burning with something between rage and hunger. Ethan could feel it struggling, feel the resistance in the way the shadows pulsed against its unnatural flesh.

And then, without thinking, he did something new.

He devoured.

The creature jerked violently as its form began to unravel, strands of inky darkness peeling away and flowing into Ethan's own. A sensation like liquid fire flooded his veins, a rush so powerful it nearly sent him to his knees.

Memories—not his own—flashed through his mind. Echoes of another world, a time before the gods fell, before the war shattered everything. He saw the hounds hunting, dragging down those who dared to claim power beyond their station.

And then he saw himself.

A being standing in the center of the storm. Neither mortal nor god. Something worse.

The hound let out one last, shrill cry before dissolving completely. The room fell into silence.

Ethan staggered, his breath ragged. His hands were trembling—not with fear, but with something far darker.

Hunger.

Anna's voice was barely a whisper. "What did you just do?"

Ethan looked at his hands. The shadows still clung to him, darker than before, thicker. More real. He could feel the power humming beneath his skin, the knowledge of what he had taken settling deep within him.

He looked at Anna. And he saw the way she was looking at him now—not just with fear, but with recognition.

A monster.

The door creaked open again. The man in the coat stepped inside, surveying the wreckage, the absence of the hound. He nodded once, as if confirming something.

"Now," he said. "You're ready."

Ethan exhaled, the last remnants of the hound's essence still burning inside him.

The war had begun.