The pulse hammered through my skull, a relentless beat that led me toward shadows of the unknown. This wasn’t an ordinary hunt. I stalked phantoms… the loose knowledge of Charles’ family; people I’d never met, strung together by fragile threads of emotion, a faint tether to Charles, and nothing more than first names. The connection was weak, a barely-there resonance. It didn’t slice through my mind like a scream; it dragged like a slow, suffocating haze. Yet, the pull was undeniable, guiding me like a compass into the depths of the night.
I moved through the city like a predator unleashed, vaulting over rooftops, plunging into the blackened voids between buildings. Each step ripped through shadow, my smaller human form blending seamlessly into the dark. I arrived at the edge of something vile, the numb echo of my pulse bouncing back, hollow and deadened. It was here.
The house stood like a tomb among the others, a quiet, lifeless façade in a neighborhood that slept soundly in ignorant bliss. My senses expanded, reaching for any sign of life. No heartbeats. No breaths. But the smell…oh, the smell. It clung to the air, thick and rancid… a stench I knew too well. Blood, fear, death. My jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as I stared at the snow-covered ground, its pristine surface mocking the horror within.
I had to go inside.
The neighborhood itself was serene, the houses spaced apart just enough to offer the illusion of privacy while still close enough for neighbors to exchange pleasantries. They were all there, behind their doors, their lives humming quietly; breathing, beating hearts, blissfully unaware of the atrocity that had visited one of their own. For them, the world was still safe. For now.
I reached for the doorknob. It swung open under the lightest touch, its latch already broken to splinters. The door creaked, revealing the smallest sliver of the scene beyond. Even that was enough to freeze me in place. Through the crack, I saw chaos incarnate… unfathomable, unrestrained carnage.
The colors were wrong. Smears of dark red and black mixed with the grotesque sheen of viscera painted the walls. Fibrous tendrils clung to every surface like the twisted, blood-soaked remnants of a spider's web. They stretched from ceiling to floor, grotesque strands of human tissue, binding the space in a macabre grip.
Bodies… or what was left of them were strewn about, their forms mutilated beyond recognition. Limbs twisted unnaturally, torsos split open, and worse… three of them had been flayed entirely, their skinless forms grotesquely preserved. Muscle and bone glistened in the dim light. They were positioned like horrific marionettes in some unspeakable theater of torment.
I stepped inside, the floor groaning under my weight. My breath escaped in a shaky exhale, condensing in the frigid air. I’d seen violence, death, gore… but this was different. This wasn’t the brutality of war or the savagery of beasts. This was something calculated, methodical, cruel. This was meant for Charles to find.
The knowledge settled like ice in my veins. This wasn’t just murder. It was a message, a nightmare realized. Every fear Charles had voiced, every dread that had clawed at the edges of his mind, now stood in grotesque clarity. All of his fears had been realized. His entire family… his friends in this dark life… had been massacred… tortured.
This is what could happen. This is what would happen if I let my darkness bleed into the Chasse family… or my own back in Texas.
----------------------------------------
Daylight clung to the city like a fragile veil, but it did little to warm the cold knot in my chest. My thoughts churned relentlessly, dragging me through the wreckage of the past few days. Killing Charles had been… regrettable. But… his corruption ran deep, poisoning everything it touched… leading the evil straight up from the pits and grasping for the ones he loved. But finding his family butchered, their lives torn apart by horrors they’d never known, had left me hollow. No matter how much I tried to process it… the similarities between what Charles and I were doing… the weight pressed me down.
It wasn’t just guilt; it was fear. The kind that claws into your soul and refuses to let go. Fear for the people I still had, the ones I’d do anything to protect. Carter, Eleanor, and Autumn; were my tether to humanity, the last fragile thread keeping me from sinking entirely into the abyss. But now… now, I wasn’t sure if staying close was protecting them or painting targets on their backs.
I needed clarity, and there was only one person I trusted to give it to me straight. Wayland. He’d tell me the truth, no matter how brutal. I already knew what Carter and Eleanor would say. They’d want me to stay, to guard the family as if my monstrous presence could shield them from everything lurking in the dark. Eleanor, especially… our bond went deeper than words. I had given my life for hers and traded my humanity for her survival. She’d never willingly let me go, even if she thought it might be best.
But the thought of staying gnawed at me. Every second near them felt like I was rolling the dice on their lives. If the slaughter of Charles’ family had proven anything, it was that my presence invited danger, escalating consequences spiraling beyond my control. Alex’s words echoed in my mind, a grim reminder: Protect them from the shadows.
It wasn’t just Carter and Eleanor I worried about. Autumn and Patrick had been weighing on me, too. If Patrick had done something to Autumn… if he’d twisted her in some supernatural way; was that my fault? Was it because of me, because I was in their lives? The notion burrowed deeper, whispering cruel possibilities. Had my existence here drawn dangers that would’ve otherwise passed them by… or never spawned in the first place?
The city of St. Louis might have remained a quiet battleground, its supernatural undercurrents hidden, if I had simply moved on in my early days. But I hadn’t. I’d stayed, rooted myself in their lives, and now everything felt like it was unraveling. The thought clawed at me as I moved through the tunnels beneath the city, the cold, damp air pressing in from all sides.
The caverns flew past me in a rush as I traversed the underside of the city. The stone walls almost bent to my will I had memorized them so much. I moved swiftly, my claws scraping against stone, my bulk weaving through the labyrinth of shadows. It was easier to move like this now… quicker, more efficient. But with every step, I felt the weight of what I’d become, the creature that lurked just beneath my skin… seeping out into my visage in ways I couldn’t hide anymore.
Finally, I reached the exit, a jagged opening that bled light into the darkness. I halted, forcing myself to calm down and maintain my human form. The transformation was always creeping forward… trying to come out… especially these last few weeks since Death took the blade. It was never easy. My bones cracked and groaned, muscles coiling tighter as the monstrous entity kept my body in a state of flux. I pinned him back… the Primeval’s presence receded as far as it would now, though never fully gone.
My eyes still burned black, unnatural against the pale daylight. My teeth felt sharp, my fangs lingering just enough to remind me they were there. But something new caught my attention. My hands.
The talons had stayed retracted, but my fingernails… they didn’t look right. Black as obsidian, the bone-like texture gleamed faintly in the light. They weren’t long, not enough to draw attention unless someone really looked, but their unnatural hue sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t fully escape what I was becoming. It was taking more…
I clenched my fists, feeling the weight of the change. It wasn’t just my body shifting… it was my existence. Everything I touched seemed to crumble, every connection I held threatened by the monstrous thing inside me.
And now, standing on the brink of yet another conversation that could tear my world apart, I wondered if I even deserved to hold on to what was left.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered, the words curling out into the frigid dark. My breath clouded the air, a faint reminder of my humanity… what little was left of it. My nails, blackened and ridged, caught the weak light as I clenched my fists. “Why the fuck does this keep happening?” I growled, more to myself than the empty woods surrounding me.
Every transformation was a theft, stealing more of who I was and leaving behind something less human. My fingernails were just the latest harbingers of that change. The edges, rounded but holding the faintest, cruelest point, seemed to mock me. They were ready, waiting for the inevitable. The monster was never far.
I lingered at the edge of the city, my feet restless on the frozen earth. Wayland’s house wasn’t far now, and the pulse in my mind guided me toward him like a beacon. He was my best shot at truth, but the dread gnawed at me as I approached. Would he see me for what I was becoming? Would his eyes narrow in fear, in disgust, when he caught sight of my monstrous features?
I told myself this wasn’t about me. I needed answers… answers that could mean life or death for the Chasse family. But as I crept closer to the warmth of Wayland’s home, the excuses began to falter.
His house stood quiet, the golden glow of interior lights barely piercing the gloom. From my place in the shadows, I could hear Clara's voice through the walls, calm but tense, her words threaded with something unsaid. She was preparing Delilah for school, her tone light for the child’s sake. “Eat your breakfast, sweetheart,” she said, masking the strain beneath her words.
Their conversation was mundane, ordinary. Clara spoke of dropping by Carter’s house, mentioning a vague “situation” that needed handling. Wayland grunted in response, his weariness audible. I didn’t know what they were dealing with exactly, but it was clear that even their strong facade was cracking. They were trying to shield Delilah, keeping her world safe and normal.
I stayed rooted as Clara bundled Delilah into the car, her little boots swinging as she was strapped into a booster seat. The engine hummed to life, and the car disappeared down the road, leaving only Wayland behind.
I crossed the unbroken snow, each step sinking into the pristine white. The crunch of my boots seemed deafening, a lonely percussion marking my slow approach. The house loomed closer, its shadows stretching long and thin in the dawn light.
My reflection flickered in the glass of the storm door as I raised my hand to knock. The face staring back at me was mine but wasn’t. The way the pitch blackness of my eyes seemed to swallow the light, the faint, predatory glare that never left, made me hesitate. Would Wayland open this door and see a friend… or something that shouldn’t exist? I was always so afraid of how they’d see me… especially now.
I tapped the glass, once, twice, the sound too small against the growing dread in my chest. Nothing. My knuckles rapped harder this time, the muted thud lost in the stillness of the morning. My gaze drifted down, spotting a lighted doorbell nestled beside the frame.
With a grim resolve, I pressed it twice. The distant chime echoed inside, and I felt a shift in the house’s energy. He was coming.
The pulse throbbed harder now, its rhythm a cruel reminder that time wouldn’t wait. Each second brought him closer to the door, closer to the revelation of what I’d become. My fists clenched at my sides as I braced for his reaction.
Would he see me as an ally still… or had I crossed a line even he couldn’t abide?
The inner door groaned open, revealing Wayland’s silhouette. His face, shadowed by the dim morning light, flickered with a brief flash of uncertainty before he stepped closer to the glass storm door. His eyes locked onto mine… sharp, calculating. There was no mistaking the slight tension in his jaw as his gaze dipped, scanning my form. Then, as if compelled by some unease, his eyes darted past me, sweeping the yard for signs of anyone else.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low, edged with suspicion. The question came out brisk, almost reflexive. Then he blinked, as if catching himself. His expression softened, though the wariness lingered beneath the surface. “I mean... it’s good to see you. I just wasn’t expecting you.”
Even as he spoke, his eyes kept flickering back to me; more precisely, to my eyes and hands. He was trying not to stare, but I could see the way his gaze caught on my blackened nails, the faint sheen of their bone-like surface under the light. His discomfort was palpable as he stared into the voids of my eyes.
“Sorry for showing up unannounced,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I felt. “I just… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Wayland didn’t answer right away. He stood there, one hand still on the doorframe, the other dropping slowly to his side. His lips pressed into a thin line, his expression now unreadable. When he finally moved, it was with the deliberate caution of someone not entirely sure what they were letting in.
“Come in,” he said, pushing the storm door open, the metal frame rattling slightly. His tone was casual enough, but the way he stepped back, keeping a subtle distance between us, betrayed his unease. “It’s freezing out there.”
I stepped inside, the warmth of the house brushing over my skin. The contrast to the bitter cold outside did little to ease the chill that had settled in my chest. Wayland closed the door behind me, the sound of the lock clicking into place uncomfortably loud in the otherwise quiet house.
He turned, leaning against the door for a moment, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His eyes found mine again, but not without hesitation. I could tell he was trying to read me, trying to see beyond the monstrous edges that lingered even in my human form. His gaze dipped briefly to my hands again before flicking back up.
“You’ve got a... different look these days, Sam,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Not just the usual wear and tear, either. Carter and El mentioned it… but… it’s different to see in person.”
I didn’t respond immediately. The weight of his words settled heavily between us, unspoken truths hanging in the air.
“Yeah,” I finally said, my voice rough. “It’s been getting worse.”
Wayland’s eyes narrowed slightly, his concern deepening, though he said nothing. Instead, he pushed off the doorframe and gestured toward the living room. “Clara and Delilah just left. You’re lucky you caught me before I headed out myself.”
I followed him into the room, the familiar space feeling more foreign under his scrutinizing gaze. The cozy warmth, the photos, the soft throw on the couch; it was almost mocking… trying to compare the growing darkness within me.
Wayland didn’t sit. He stood near the armchair, arms still crossed, his stance guarded. “So,” he said, his tone quieter now but no less wary. “You usually go straight to Carter for things… why me?”
I hesitated, the words sticking in my throat. How could I explain what was happening without confirming his worst fears? How could I tell him about what I’d done to Charles, the changes overtaking me, and the constant threat I knew I brought with me?
“It’s about the family,” I said finally, the weight of my confession pressing down on every syllable. “And about what I’ve become.”
Wayland’s expression tightened. He nodded slowly, though his eyes remained sharp, watching me closely. “I figured as much,” he said. “But before we get into it... Sam, you’ve got to level with me.” His voice dropped, a hint of something sharper creeping in. “How much of you is still... you?”
His words hit harder than I expected. I swallowed, my breath shaky. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I admitted. “And everything else I could be bringing…” I need you to give it to me straight.. just between me and you…”
Wayland nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. “I’m listening,” he said, his voice low, careful.
I drew in a breath, steadying myself. The words felt heavier now, each syllable carrying the weight of years of doubt and longing. “Do you think I’m a threat to the family? Not just a general threat… but something inevitable, something certain. I keep making excuses to stay. I always have. But I left my own family so long ago for this exact reason… to protect them from me.” My voice wavered, but I pressed on. “And now here I am, with all of you, dragging the darkness closer every day.”
Wayland’s expression tightened, his mouth pressing into a thin line. I could see the gears turning in his head, but I didn’t let him answer yet. I needed to finish.
“If you were in my shoes, living this life... what would you do? What do you think is right, Wayland?”
The question hung between us, an invisible chasm that neither of us could immediately cross. Wayland’s lips parted slightly, but no words came at first. He shifted his weight, looking down, then back at me, his eyes clouded with a mix of emotions.
“I don’t know...” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper. “I guess...” He trailed off, clearly unprepared for the weight of what I was asking.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said quickly, before the silence could stretch too long. “Every part of me wants to stay. To be with you and Frank, Clara, Carter, Eleanor, and Autumn. Even after everything she’s done...”
His head jerked up at that, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was a flicker of something… concern, maybe even suspicion, but he didn’t interrupt. He was waiting, listening.
“I’ve grown close to all of you,” I continued, my voice thick with emotion. “I want to be a part of this family, no matter the fears I have about myself. But that doesn’t make it the right thing to do.” I hesitated, my throat tightening. “What I’m asking is... if you were me, what would you do? You remind me a lot of who I thought I’d be, back when I still had dreams of raising a family. Before all of this.”
I let my words trail off, the room falling into an uneasy quiet. Wayland stared at me, his eyes searching for something; maybe the man he once knew, or perhaps the monster he now feared.
He exhaled deeply, crossing his arms tighter across his chest. “Sam... there’s a lot more going on here than just you. And this... this is a bigger conversation.” He paused, his gaze shifting for a moment, as though weighing how much to reveal. “Autumn, specifically... there’s more happening than you realize.” His tone was careful, almost probing, like he was waiting for me to confirm something, to share the knowledge I clearly didn’t have.
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“But to answer your question,” he continued, grounding himself. “If I knew everything you know now, if I were in your position... I hope I’d be strong enough to deny myself… for Clara… for Delilah. For their safety.” He paused, his expression conflicted. “But then again... walking away from everyone? From building connections, from finding purpose in people?” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know if I could do that… not fully.”
Wayland’s eyes softened, his voice growing steadier. “Here’s the truth, Sam. None of us want you to leave. You know what we are… we’re hunters. We’ve been in this shit long before you showed up. Sure, you bring a heavier weight, but it’s not like we weren’t already fighting battles of our own.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet but firm. “So if you’re asking me if I think we’re safer away from you? I don’t. I think you’re part of this family, and that means you belong here. Maybe we just have a longer conversation about specifics… wardings, Shelta’s sight, and basic stuff we can do to cloak ourselves from the supernatural world.”
The words hit me harder than I expected, a sharp relief cutting through the lingering dread. My vision blurred as tears welled up, and I clenched my jaw, my fangs pressing painfully into my lip. The black void in my eyes threatened to spill over, but I fought to keep it together.
Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward and pulled Wayland into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” I said, my voice cracking. “You don’t know what that means to me.”
Wayland stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, but then he patted my back gently, his grip firm. “We’ve got your back, Sam. Always.”
As I pulled away, he took a deep breath, his expression shifting back to that of the measured, practical man I knew. “Now,” he said, his tone more serious, “there’s something else we need to talk about. Something you need to know. After we investigated the brush... things happened.”
His words landed like a punch to the gut, stirring long-buried fears. The way he said it, the weight in his tone… it carried a truth I wasn’t prepared for.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Wayland began to explain...
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“I knew that little motherfucker did something,” I spat, my voice sharp and venomous. The anger seethed just beneath my skin, boiling over in every word. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve done something… anything. Maybe then, none of this would’ve happened.” The hope that Peter's power died with him was gone.
Wayland flinched slightly at the intensity of my tone, but his voice remained steady. “There’s nothing you could have done, Sam. Once that brush took hold of them, it was already too late. For all of us.”
His calm only fueled my rage. “That’s bullshit,” I snapped, pacing in tight, furious circles. “I’ve fought monsters… real monsters. And I let that punk slip past me? Patrick... that smug little bastard. I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve stopped him before it got this far.”
Wayland watched me quietly for a moment, then sighed. “Sam, listen. We’ve got some family still in the city. Carter’s uncle, along with his people. They’ve got resources we don’t. They’re coming over soon to take a look at Autumn.”
My head jerked up at her name, the fury in my chest mingling with a sickening dread. “Is she all right?” I demanded. “What’s happening to her? You said she lashed out the other night, but you didn’t tell me what happened after. What did Patrick do to her?”
Wayland’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “She’s safe, but...” He hesitated, the weight of his next words hanging heavy. “We’ve had to isolate her.”
“Isolate?” The word tasted like acid.
“She’s too much of a threat, Sam. To Patrick, and honestly, to the rest of us.”
I felt a cold knot twist in my stomach. “How do you mean?”
Wayland rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “Any chance she gets, she tries to break free and go for him. It’s like her mind is stuck on him, torn between two extremes. One second, she’s desperate to be near him, like she can’t live without him. The next, she’s... she’s ready to rip his throat out… like literally.” He shook his head, his voice low, almost haunted. “You can see it in her eyes, Sam. That flicker between wanting to forgive him and wanting to destroy him. It’s… terrifying, to see someone you love so… changed.”
I clenched my fists, my dark nails biting into my palms as a bitter laugh escaped my throat. “Terrifying?” I growled. “Terrifying is realizing I’ve been sitting on my hands while everything falls apart. While she falls apart. I’ve done nothing!” I hated myself.
Wayland stepped forward, his voice softer now. “Sam, none of this is on you. You can’t blame yourself for…”
“Don’t.” My voice cut through his like a blade. “Don’t tell me I can’t blame myself. I should’ve been here. Maybe if I was, she wouldn’t be locked up, losing her mind over that piece of shit.”
Wayland’s silence spoke volumes. He didn’t argue, didn’t try to offer more reassurances that would only fan the flames.
My jaw tightened, the weight of everything… Patrick’s betrayal, Autumn’s torment, Charles’s murder, and my own choices pressed down on me like a crushing tide. Every connection I had made, every decision, felt like it led to this: a spiral of consequences and regrets.
“I need to see her,” I blurted out, the words escaping before I could fully think them through.
His eyes searched mine, gauging the storm brewing behind them. After a long pause, he nodded grimly. “Alright,” he said. “But you need to be prepared for what you’re walking into.”
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I stood before the silver cell, the cold metal of the bars catching faint glints of light as I stared at her. Autumn sat slumped against the far wall, her knees drawn up, arms draped limply over them. Her head tilted slightly, resting against the cold stone, and for a moment, she didn’t even seem to register my presence.
Her hair, once neatly kept, now hung in tangled strands over her face, veiling her expression but not the anger simmering just beneath. The wildness in her disheveled appearance mirrored the turmoil within; a storm of obsession and confusion barely contained, waiting to break free. Strands clung to her damp skin, framing the sharp line of her jaw and her lips, set in a thin, defiant line.
Even now, beneath the rage and exhaustion etched into her features, she still looked like the girl I had always known. Her body, lean and toned from years of training, was tense even in this moment of stillness. She wore the marks of recent battle with something like a second skin; scratches, faint bruises, and yet her presence commanded attention, a reminder of her strength and the girl she used to be.
But that was the cruel part, wasn’t it? Physically, she was the same. The same Autumn I’d fought beside, laughed with, and felt something so close… so real. And yet, as I watched her now, I knew… her mind was somewhere else, trapped in a labyrinth of obsession and lies that none of us could reach.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I turned to Carter, who stood silently beside me. His face was worn, lined with worry that he didn’t bother to hide. “How long has she been like this?” I asked, my voice low, almost hoarse.
I looked back at her, my chest tightening. She was right there, only a few feet away, and yet she felt impossibly distant. The girl I saw wasn’t the Autumn I knew; just a hollow reflection, caught in the throes of something none of us fully understood.
And the worst part? I could still see her as she used to be. Even now, through the anger and the chaos, I saw her as the fierce, loyal girl she’d always been. The girl who fought for her family, who stood tall no matter the odds. It was all just flipped and twisted.
“It’s been a few days,” Carter said, his voice low, heavy with exhaustion. “We’ve had to keep her in here. We can’t let her out. Every time we tried to give her even a little slack at first… she’d make a break for it. We had to stop her, keep her from hurting herself… and protect Patrick.”
I shifted my gaze back to Autumn. She sat there, her wild, unkempt hair veiling her face, but I could feel her eyes on us, sharp and unrelenting. The way she watched us wasn’t the way a person looked at their family. It was predatory, calculating. A chill crept down my spine, and I forced myself to look away. It wasn't Autumn… not the girl I remembered.
“So, Patrick’s not acting like this?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
Carter shook his head. “No. Patrick’s not affected by this part of the curse. He’s only bound by the other half… their lives intertwined, but not their minds.” His voice carried a bitterness like he hated the very words he was saying.
I clenched my fists, the frustration building until it felt like it would choke me. “So what, he just gets to walk around like nothing’s wrong, while she’s locked in here, tearing herself apart?”
Carter exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that simple, Sam. He’s not free, either. The bond’s a two-way street, but this… this part, the obsession, the rage… it’s all on her.”
I shook my head, pacing a few steps away, then back again. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve been here to stop this before it got this bad.” The helplessness clawed at me, a bitter knot in my chest that wouldn’t loosen.
Autumn’s head tilted slightly as she glared at me, her eyes burning with barely contained hostility. She was quiet for a moment, like she was savoring the tension in the air, calculating her next move as she listened to the anguish in my voice, Then, she spoke, her voice sharp, cutting.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her tone dripping with venom. “What am I now, Sam? A threat like Peter? Like the immortals you hunted down and killed?” She leaned forward slightly, her knuckles tightening against the floor. “You only show up when there’s something that needs killing. So tell me… am I on the list now? Is that why you’re standing there, staring at me like some wounded animal?” Her lips curled into a bitter smirk, her eyes daring me to step closer, to cross the threshold of her cell.
My chest tightened, but I kept my face blank, forcing myself to remain calm. “No,” I said, my voice flat, emotionless. I couldn’t let her words pull me under. “I’m not here to hurt you, Autumn. I want to help.”
Her laugh was harsh, biting. She pushed the tangled mess of her dark brown hair out of her face, tying it back into a ponytail with deliberate precision. The movement exposed her face fully, and for a moment, it was like looking at a ghost… Autumn, the girl I once knew, stared back at me with a hatred that didn’t belong to her. It was almost too much, and I could feel the cracks forming in my composure. She saw it, too, and her smirk deepened.
“Help me?” she repeated, mocking. “You think I need your help?” She scoffed, leaning back against the wall. “What are you going to do, Sam? Save me from my relationship with Patrick? Rip me away from the only thing that makes sense in my life?” Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’m just going to forget about him, about the love of my life, and come crawling back to you? Back to waste more of my time?”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I clenched my teeth, staying silent.
She wasn’t done. “Everyone else is too polite to say it, but I’ll be honest with you. We don’t want you here, Sam. None of us do.” Her voice dropped, lower, deadlier. “You’re not human. You’re something else, and we’ve all seen it. Whatever darkness you carry, we don’t want it spilling over into this family. It doesn’t matter what you do… one fact will remain… you will always be a monster!” Her words were like poison, the exact opposite of what she had always told me from the very first time we spoke about this. “So why don’t you do everyone a favor and disappear again… like you always do. We don’t care what you are… whatever you end up being, will still be a monster!”
Her final words hit like a hammer, each one driving deeper than the last. She leaned back, satisfied, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was pleased with herself.
I exhaled slowly, realizing I’d been holding my breath the entire time. I glanced over at Eleanor and Carter. They stood silently, their faces tight, rubbing their temples. They weren’t surprised. From what they’d told me, this was how she’d been… spitting venom at anyone who got between her and Patrick.
Autumn’s grin widened, and she settled back into her corner, watching me like a predator waiting for its prey to break.
Eleanor’s watery eyes flicked to me, her gaze heavy with guilt and helplessness. She shook her head, frustration and anguish written across her face. I nodded to her, trying to reassure her, though I was far from alright. I could feel the weight of it all, the suffocating presence of it, but I didn’t want to make this harder for her. Not while Autumn had become something else entirely.
I couldn’t hold back a small smile, something sharp and bitter, knowing it would throw her off balance. It worked. Autumn’s eyes snapped to me, her expression faltering as the grin melted away. Her lip curled into a snarl, her eyes burning with rage, her fists tightening at her sides. “Well… that’s the thing Autumn… you already know.”
“What’s that?” she hissed, her voice cold, biting like an icy dagger cutting through the air.
I leaned forward slightly, never breaking eye contact. “You already know what I am,” I said simply, my voice low, the words falling out with deliberate weight.
Her nostrils flared as I let my senses run free, my pulse picking up rhythm, a deep, ominous beat that reverberated through me, feeling like a weapon. My words hit her with a force that only I could feel. "I came over one night… I told you everything."
For a moment, there was a flicker in her eyes; a brief, almost imperceptible shift that told me she recognized it. She couldn’t hide it, not from me. Her eyelids tried to widen in shock, her breath catching in her chest, but before anyone else could see, she slammed the door shut in her mind. She was fighting it. I could see the struggle, the faintest tremor in her body, the way her breath quickened as her heart raced.
“You remember,” I pressed, not giving her a chance to deny it. “Do you remember the things I told you that night? It’d be pretty hard to forget, don’t you think?”
Her jaw clenched, her lips parting slightly as she tried to shake it off. “I don’t know… what you’re talking about…” She trailed off, her words stuttering under the weight of what I was forcing her to confront.
“There’s something there, isn’t there?” I asked, pushing further, watching the conflict twist across her face. Her hands clenched around the bars, her knuckles white as she paced, fury burning in her eyes. “Come on, Autumn, think harder,” I mocked, leaning into her vulnerability. “I told you, you know I’m telling the truth. Think. Really think.”
“Shut the fuck up!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. The words hit me, but I didn’t flinch. I knew what was happening. She didn’t want me to keep pushing… not because I was wrong, but because it was starting to break through the shell she’d built around herself. The real Autumn, the one who still remembered, was fighting to come to the surface.
I took a step closer, my gaze never wavering. “I pointed above us, we were just upstairs, no one else was here. Your mom and dad were gone. It was just us in the house.” I kept my voice steady, cold, and unyielding, like I was peeling away every defense she’d tried to put up. “I told you about the other place. The other Primeval. The Unseen. The thing that let Peter come back to life.”
Her breath caught again. I could feel it… the slow, deliberate shudder as the walls she’d built around her mind began to crack. Her pulse quickened, a subtle shift that only I could read.
“You remember what I said?” I pressed, leaning in. “I told you what’s inside me… what I am. The name…” I let the word hang in the air, letting it sink in. “Myoordrakien.”
Her body jerked back as if I’d struck her, her face twisting in disgust and fear. I watched the change, the sharp shift in her features as she recoiled. She backed away from the bars as though she were being pushed by an invisible force, her eyes wide, terror creeping into the corners of her gaze.
I saw it… we all could… the battle raging inside her. Her anger, her denial, it was all fighting against something deeper. She knew. She had to know. And yet, the recognition was too much for her. She couldn’t let herself accept it. It stood against the obsession… the lie.
Autumn stood there, trembling, fighting to maintain the anger, to hold onto the rage and the facade she’d built. But the fear was there too, flickering just beneath the surface, betraying her. My words had cracked something inside of her, and it was too much for her to ignore anymore.
The anger flared back up… louder, sharper, more violent. “You don’t get it,” she spat, her voice thick with venom. “I don’t need you to save me. I don’t need you to fix anything. I don’t want anything from you!”
But I saw it. The fear. The recognition. I saw it behind the rage. And I knew. I knew what was happening inside her. The truth was breaking down the walls she’d built, piece by piece.
I let the words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. "Then I told you who pulls the strings. The one who gives me the visions... the names. He's the one I serve." I watched her closely as the words hit her.
Her eyes flickered, wide and wild, as if something in her mind was snapping, the seams of her reality starting to tear. She stumbled back, her body jerking like she was repelled by what I was saying, as if my words were too much for her to contain. She backed into the corner of the cell, crouching down low, hugging her knees to her chest, her head shaking violently.
"It's Death," I said, my voice cold, leaving no room for doubt. "Death itself. I told you that..."
I stopped there, letting the weight of those words settle in. The room felt colder, choking. I didn’t have to say more… my silence filled the space, and I could feel her unraveling.
Her body trembled, eyes wide, frantic as the truth crept in. Her breath was shallow and rapid, every inhale a desperate gasp for air. Not because of what I was saying, but because it didn’t line up with the truth in her mind. What she believed and what she was starting to understand were two separate things. All her conviction was being put into question… and her mind and body did not like it. She started to shake her head, muttering to herself in a low, frantic whisper. "No, no, no... no, no, no..." The words repeated over and over in a mantra, a desperate refusal to accept the truth that was choking her.
All the anger, all the fury she had thrown at us just moments before, disappeared in an instant. It wasn’t gone, it was redirected inward, boiling within her like a storm she couldn’t escape. I could see it in her face, the struggle between the Autumn we knew and the one the curse had twisted into something else. The anger was gone, replaced by pure, frantic dread. She was no longer lashing out at us. Now, she was terrified of what she knew was real.
Autumn's entire body trembled, her shoulders wracked with silent sobs as she clung to the corner, her eyes wild, fighting with whatever remained of her mind. The curse was sinking in deeper, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her hands were trembling so violently that they couldn’t even hold onto the bars properly as they slid through them.
After a long, suffocating silence, we all gathered outside the cell area, the heavy air still lingering behind us. Eleanor’s face was tight with concern, her eyes full of an anguish I could barely stand to witness. Carter was standing close to her, his hand lightly on her back. Wayland was stone-faced, but I could see the strain in his posture. Clara’s expression was unreadable, her eyes distant.
The weight of what had just happened was pressing down on all of us. The air felt thick, as though we were all holding our breath, waiting for something we didn’t know how to stop.
“How soon until your family gets here?” I asked, my voice laced with urgency, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.
“They should be here in two days,” Carter answered, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. “My Uncle has a much larger circle of friends and family that travel with him. We’ve told them everything, and we’re hoping they have something… anything that could break this curse.”
“It might help if you’re here, Sam,” Eleanor suggested, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “I know it could stir up trouble with all the newcomers, but the reaction you got out of Autumn… it was like nothing any of us have been able to do. Not since the night she attacked Patrick.”
I nodded, my eyes drifting toward the door leading to the silver cell where Autumn was. My heart clenched at the thought of her, so twisted, so far from the girl I remembered. There was a part of me that wanted to stay, to fix this, but I knew I had my own complications to face.
“I want to be here,” I admitted, the words raw in my throat. “I need to be here. I feel like I’ve let her down… let all of you down.” My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “I saw in Peter’s vision… that thing. The cursed brush Peter gave Patrick. I should’ve just stolen it myself, done what needed to be done. I shouldn’t have hesitated.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Sam,” Eleanor interrupted gently, though her voice was thick with emotion. “None of us knew the full extent of that thing’s power. What it could have done in other circumstances. You’re the only reason we even know about it. You’re the only reason we’ve been able to act. If you hadn’t told us, Autumn might have killed Patrick… and she would have killed herself. You’re the only reason either of them is still alive.”
Her words cut through me, but they didn’t settle in my chest the way they should have. I nodded, but the weight of what I’d failed to do still crushed me. There had to have been more I could have done. There always was.
“I have to go back down below,” I said, my voice strained as I tried to focus. The task at hand, the thing I had to finish, clawed at my mind. “Things are complicated right now… I’ve been given a task I can’t stop. But maybe I can go down, do what I have to do, and then come back… even if it’s just for a little while. If it’s for Autumn… I’ll be here.”
I turned, my gaze drawn once more to the silver cell. A glimpse of Autumn, hunched in the corner, her form so far removed from the girl I’d known, ripped through my chest. The sight of her like that, caged, broken, was too much. My mind flashed back to that night; the last night I had seen her, the last night she had been… herself. Before I had told her the truth. Before everything had shattered. I would never forget the closeness we had shared then. It felt like a lifetime ago.
But I couldn’t afford to dwell on it. I couldn’t afford to let my emotions cloud what I needed to do.
“Do what you have to do here,” I said, my voice hardening with resolve. “And I’ll do what I have to do down there. I don’t know what else I’ll be able to do to help, but I will be here. I’ll do whatever you need.”
They all nodded, their expressions torn between concern and understanding. I knew they had questions. They wanted to know what I was doing, why I had to go down below, but that wasn’t something I could explain now. Not with everything hanging in the balance.
“I’ll tell you everything when I come back,” I said, my voice steady but filled with determination. “But for now, I need to go. The quicker I head back down… the faster I can be back.”
The silence hung heavy in the air as they watched me, and I could feel the weight of their gazes on my back as I turned toward the door. There was no turning back now. I had a task to finish. I would be here… I would be back for whatever came next with Autumn. I knew that she’d be safely locked up in the silver cell. Carter and Eleanor wouldn’t let anything happen to her. I would fix this, even if it meant going to the ends of the earth, even if it meant destroying everything in my path. I would return for Autumn.