The Hunt Begins

The cold wind sliced across the back roads like a blade as Alex and Adam moved through the night. Shadows shifted with every step, the trees seeming to whisper things best left unheard. Alex's hood was drawn low over his head, his eyes hidden, but Adam could tell something had changed.

He walked faster now. Lighter. Quieter. Almost… predatory.

"You good?" Adam asked, glancing sideways.

Alex didn't answer at first. Then, "My heart's barely beating. But I'm not tired."

Adam swallowed. "That's… freaky."

They kept walking until the sleepy town of Whitmoor was nothing but a distant glow behind them. They cut through the edge of a forest that bordered the old railway tracks—abandoned for years. Fog crawled between the trees like spilled ink.

"We can stay in that hunting cabin up ahead," Adam said, pointing into the woods. "My dad used to bring me here for fishing weekends. Nobody should be around."

Alex didn't respond. His ears twitched.

"Wait."

"What?" Adam froze.

Alex's head turned slightly. "We're being followed."

Adam felt the hair on his neck rise. "You sure?"

"I can hear breathing. Heavy. Fast." Alex narrowed his eyes. "And it's not human."

Suddenly, the stillness shattered.

A low growl rumbled from behind the trees. Then came the snap of a branch. Another growl, this time closer, like something dragging its limbs unnaturally fast.

Adam swore under his breath. "Tell me that's not one of Sabastin's—"

"Run."

They didn't argue.

Alex bolted ahead, Adam right behind him, the ground vanishing under their feet as they sprinted into the forest. Something crashed through the underbrush behind them—too big, too fast. Leaves exploded into the air, and trees groaned from the force.

Whatever was chasing them wasn't just fast. It was hunting.

They burst through a thicket and reached the old cabin—half-buried in weeds, roof sagging. Adam kicked the door open, and they tumbled inside, slamming it shut.

BANG. BANG.

Claws scraped the outside wood.

"Do something!" Adam shouted.

Alex looked around, adrenaline humming through his veins. He spotted a rusted iron poker near the fireplace. Grabbing it, he held it close.

"Silver would've been better," he muttered.

The creature outside sniffed the air. Then silence.

A long, breathless silence.

Adam held his breath.

And then—crash!

It came through the window.

A blur of pale skin and glowing orange eyes. Its limbs were wrong—too long, too jointed. It moved like a spider but growled like a wolf. Clawed fingers swiped at Alex, and he ducked just in time.

The poker clanged against its arm—it howled in rage. But then it stopped and looked at Alex. A pause. A recognition.

And it grinned.

"Blood of the Monarch," it hissed in a voice like shattered glass. "You smell divine."

Alex growled back—an instinct he didn't know he had. His eyes flashed gold. His fingers curled. For a moment, his body moved on its own.

He pounced.

They clashed in a flurry of claws, fists, and teeth. The poker bent uselessly as the creature knocked it aside. Alex bit down, hard, into the monster's shoulder. It screeched, throwing him back against the wall.

Blood sprayed—dark, oily, wrong.

Alex wiped his mouth.

And something inside him purred.

"Alex…" Adam's voice shook. "Your eyes…"

They glowed fully now. No more blue. Only amber flame.

The creature hesitated, almost… afraid.

"You're still incomplete," it rasped. "But soon, you'll be just like us."

With one final screech, it leapt through the window and vanished into the trees.

The boys stood in silence, hearts pounding. The wind howled around them, whistling through broken glass.

"What… what the hell was that?" Adam finally whispered.

"One of Sabastin's pets," Alex said, panting. "A scout. A messenger."

"Think it'll come back?"

"No," Alex said, wiping his mouth again. "It's going to tell him I'm gone. And that I'm changing."

They didn't sleep that night. They barricaded the door with chairs, curled up on opposite ends of the cabin, listening for more movement.

Morning came like a blessing—but the forest was still dark. The mist never left.

They packed what little they had and moved deeper into the woods, avoiding main roads. Alex didn't want to risk being seen—not with his reflection showing fangs now.

"What's happening to me, Adam?" he finally asked as they walked. "It's like something else is… inside."

"You're fighting it," Adam said. "That's what matters."

"What if I lose?"

"Then I'll bring you back."

Alex smiled faintly. "You're a terrible liar."

They kept walking. Birds flew overhead, and the trees swayed—but every now and then, Alex would stop. Listen. Sniff the air.

"They're looking for us," he said. "Not just the scout. More."

"Then we don't stop."

They crossed old train tracks, now twisted and rusted, and eventually found a hidden cave under a ridge to hide in. Adam built a small fire, and they warmed their hands in silence.

But Alex's mind kept racing.

His dreams the night before weren't just dreams. He'd seen visions. Thrones of bone. Cities bathed in blood. A man who looked like him, cloaked in shadows, sitting on a throne as thousands knelt.

The Blood Monarch.

He was beginning to believe it wasn't a title—it was a memory. Someone he used to be. Or maybe… someone Sabastin recreated.

Was he really just a student anymore?

Or a weapon waiting to awaken?

As they sat there, something shifted behind them in the cave. Rocks fell. A shadow slithered across the walls.

"Did you hear that?" Adam asked, standing.

Alex nodded, eyes narrowing. "We're not alone."

They turned just as something stepped from the darkness.

Not Sabastin.

Not the scout.

But a girl.

Eyes red. Fangs bared. Hair like black smoke.

"Found you," she whispered.