Chapter 8

The night felt different. Daniel felt it the moment he stepped out of the clearing, an aftertaste of Kael’s lifelessness still lingering faintly on his tongue. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but the phantom flavor didn’t leave. In fact… it deepened. A low warmth in his chest answered it, like a heartbeat that wasn’t entirely his. He stood beneath the trees, breathing slowly, making sure his hands didn’t shake. He had meant to kill Kael. He wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. The moment he felt Kael’s spell digging into his bones, the moment he felt that pain coil tight in his ribs—something old, locked, smothered in chains inside him, pulled taut and snapped free. And when it snapped, Daniel didn’t hesitate. He didn’t hold back. He didn’t even consider holding back. He had wanted to spill blood, he had missed it, and he did. And he enjoyed it. He swallowed, hard. “This… isn’t good.” But it wasn’t surprising, not after the pact. His mind flicked briefly—unwillingly—back to that night centuries ago, before the wolves, before Syron, before Granland. The ainy mountain road he trod to a ruined temple, to meet the mage older than he could probably comprehend —even if he had given thought to it— sitting cross-legged on stone, eyes white and empty. Daniel had been a wanderer then—uncontrolled, hunted relentlessly by Dranum. Every night, Dranum’s presence cornered him like a predator teasing prey. Daniel had been losing. Losing ground, losing sanity, losing bits and pieces of himself each time he cut down whoever or whatever Dranum threw in his path. And the mage had watched him struggle, listened to his frantic pleas, then said only. “Your power is too loud. He hears you even when you do not use it. If you want to vanish from him… I can seal it.” And Daniel had agreed. Even when the mage warned him the seal came with a cost. The pact had been carved into Daniel’s veins, a binding that locked away his darker abilities, muted his aura, made him small enough to hide. He remembered the mage’s final words clearly. “You will be safe… until the day you reach for this part of your powers that I have locked up inside you. Then the pact will shatter. What comes after is none of my responsibility.” And tonight, when that spell hit his side, he fell into mild rage, but it was enough to make him instinctively tap into his locked away power. And in that moment, the seal had shattered, it wasn’t metaphorical, he could feel it physically, like a second heart had woken up inside him, but it was his heart, it had only just been rejuvenated. And it was hungry. --- He sensed Eva and Angelina before he heard them—two distinct heartbeats cutting through the forest’s silence. “Daniel!” Eva called, her pace quick, sharp, worried. He’d only mentioned that he wanted to take a stroll, then he was nowhere to be found. Moments after he sensed them, he saw them, and he straightened his posture. Angelina appeared first, skidding to a stop when she saw him. Her nostrils flared once, subtly. “You reek of magic,” she said. “And blood,” Eva murmured, as she appeared sharply after Angelina. “Your blood?” “No, not my blood.” Daniel met her eyes. “I… had a fight.” Eva stepped closer, slow, cautious. “I feel like something has broken inside of you, about you…. I don’t know, but there’s this dark aura about you this night.” Angelina crossed her arms, assessing him with a wolf’s scrutiny. “What did you do?” Daniel let out a breath. “Something I can’t take back.” “Daniel,” Eva said softly, “did you kill?” He didn’t look away. “I did.” A tad tone of satisfaction came with it. Angelina’s expression hardened—not fearful, just alert. Eva’s voice lowered. “Was it… an accident?” “No,” Daniel answered. “It wasn’t, I had to send a message, my message.” The words sat heavy between them. Eva took a step back. Not in fear—in realization. “So that’s why it felt like that,” she whispered. “You meant it.” Daniel nodded, and tension in Angelina’s shoulders tightened. “You’ve changed. You feel… older.” She said. Daniel didn’t contradict her, he felt older, he felt sharper, he felt everything. “And there’s more, something I’d like you to know,” Daniel said. “A long time ago, I met someone. A mage. He helped me hide from Dranum. He sealed my aura—locked away things I didn’t want to use. Things Dranum could track.” Eva frowned. “A mage helped you?” “Yes, I never had problems with mages. He kept me alive, sane at least.” Daniel admitted. “But he warned me that the pact he protected me with came with a warning—if I ever tapped into the powers that he locked away, the seal would break.” Angelina exhaled sharply. “And now it’s broken.” Daniel nodded. “Everything I suppressed is coming back.” Eva’s voice softened, but her eyes stayed steady. “Do you want it back?” Daniel hesitated. His pulse answered for him. “I don’t know, I think I do.” Because some part of him felt disturbingly good tonight, fluid, sharp, powerful, unhidden. Angelina tilted her head. “There’s something else. Your scent… changed. Blood and magic and something… old. Like nothing I’ve smelled before.” Daniel swallowed. She wasn’t wrong. --- As they walked back toward Granland territory, Daniel felt the shift again—like tiny claws running across the inside of his skull. He blinked, frowned, listened. Eva noticed. “What is it?” Daniel paused. “Someone’s near.” His heightened senses were now heightened, he felt a presence before, now he could make it out more clearly. Angelina’s posture stiffened. “Syron?” “No,” Daniel said slowly. “Not warlock, nor wolf and definitely not Dranum.” The presence was quiet, observing, like a page being turned somewhere far away. Familiar—not personally, but in essence. Eva glanced around the forest. “What does it feel like?” “A memory I forgot,” Daniel murmured. The air seemed to pulse. Angelina’s lip curled. “Where?” “Everywhere,” Daniel whispered. Because the presence was drifting—soft and frictionless, brushing the edges of their senses but never settling long enough to be pinpointed. Eva’s eyes narrowed. “A mage?” Daniel didn’t answer at first… then nodded once. “Yes.” Angelina tensed. “The one from your past?” “No,” Daniel said. “Or maybe yes, I don’t know.” Eva stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. “What do they want?” “I don’t know,” Daniel said. “But they’re not with Syron. And they’re definitely not with Dranum.” “And are they with you?” Angelina asked. Daniel took a breath. “I don’t know that either.” He replied. --- Back at the packhouse, whispers rose again as they entered. Wolves eyed Daniel with a mixture of caution and something close to instinctual unease. His presence pressed differently now—more weight, more silence, more… gravity. The stone walls of the packhouse rose high, a simple roofless structure of stone that rose 12 feet. Rowan the Alpha stepped forward, locking eyes with him. “Your aura shifted.” He declared like he noticed new or missing. “The aura I used to pick off of Eva and her sister, is now different…. Darker?” Daniel nodded. “It won’t shift back.” He affirmed. The Alpha studied him for a long, measured moment. “You’re stronger.” Daniel swallowed. “Too strong for you perhaps.” “I agree to disagree,” Rowan replied. Eva nudged him lightly. “You’re not alone in this.” Daniel didn’t respond immediately. Because the hunger—quiet at first—was stirring again, the need for blood, not for survival, not for defense, but for the ecstasy it gave him. He inhaled, hoping the feeling would settle. It didn’t. “Sure?” He asked, deadly intent in his eyes. “Hah!” Rowan exclaimed humorously and tuned to assume his seat. “The great Daniel has decided to decided to grace our hall, but he is too daring, don’t you think?” He asked. He got no replies, just murmurs and intent glaring from Daniel. “Alistair.” He called. A bulky, hairy man emerged from the shadows, Daniel had felt him there earlier but now, he had the opportunity to scrutinize the man. “Alpha.” Alistair replied as he approached. “You think you can school our vampire over here,” Rowan said motioning to Daniel. “Except he’s scared.” “His stench alone makes me want to barf.” Alistair said, his eyes now fixed on Daniel. “To the Death, no rules, no restrictions.” Rowan announced. Eva and Angelina tried to protest, but a single wave of the hand from the Alpha kept them quiet. — The whole pack came out to the open outside the pack house, and without rehearsal formed a large circle enough for Daniel and Alistair to have their altercation. Daniel, the vampire, stood tall, his piercing eyes gleaming with an unholy light as he faced Alistair. The air was electric with tension, the scent of blood and death hanging heavy over the battleground. "You should've stayed in the shadows, Alistair," Daniel whispered, his voice dripping with disdain. “It is not too late.” Alistair snarled, baring his teeth, but Daniel just chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound. “I’m a beta, on my home turf, you can only give me a hard time at best, I’m definitely going to end you.” Daniel chuckled lightly and his eyes started glowing red. “Daniel..” Eva gasped. The fight began, and Daniel proved to be a force of nature, his movements a blur as he toyed with Alistair. The werewolf snarled and growled, his claws swiping at the air, but Daniel was always one step ahead. Alistair was fast, but not anywhere near enough. "You're not even a challenge," Daniel taunted, his eyes glinting with amusement. With a swift kick, he sent Alistair crashing to the ground, the werewolf's claws scratched and useless against the ground as he struggled to come to a halt. Alistair struggled to rise, but Daniel's foot pinned him to the ground. "I think it's time you all learned a lesson , werewolves," he whispered, loud enough for everyone present to hear. “I’m not your enemy, but I’m not forgiving any insolence.” He bent over, grabbed Alistair’s arm, and with a sickening crunch, Daniel tore Alistair's arm from his body. The werewolf howled in agony as Daniel repeated the process on the other side, ripping the second limb from his shoulder. "Any last words, Alistair?" Daniel asked, his voice dripping with mockery as he turned his gaze to meet the Alpha’s. Alistair glared up at him, his eyes burning with rage and pain. "You're..and..abomination," he growled, his voice barely audible. Daniel chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound. "There it is, insolence." With a single, swift motion, he tore the werewolf's head from his shoulders, and raised it over his head, allowing the blood to drip into his mouth. “Now that he’s dead.” Daniel said, now facing the Alpha, Alistair’s head in his hand. “Why did you want him dead?” “Interesting that you figured that out.” Rowan replied. “He challenged my authority, simple as that.” A long silence followed, Daniel raised Alistair’s head for blood again, and tossed it at Rowan’s feet when he realized that he couldn’t get more. “Well, just so you know, I’m not your hitman.” He said and turned to leave. “Not at all, just a powerful enough ally.” Rowan shouted after him. A grin of satisfaction etched on his face.