The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the Duval breakfast table. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the lingering tension as Isabella tried to focus on the mundane routines of the day, and hopefully see Gabriel's face today. Ethan's revelation about his nightmare, however, lingered in the periphery of her thoughts, an unwelcome specter.
As the family sat down to eat, Viktor steered the conversation towards the familiar territory of the hunt. He spoke with an air of authority, and a look on his face that screams disappointed. "None of my sons have killed a wolf," he remarked, his eyes lingering on Marcus and then shifting to Ethan. A pointed silence hung in the air.
Isabella, sensing the shift in dynamics, kept her gaze fixed on her plate, attempting to shield herself from the impending storm of words. Persistently clinging to his expectations, Viktor refused to let the matter rest. Although he had intended to broach the subject during yesterday's dinner, his plans were thwarted by the heated altercation with Isabella that demanded his attention.
"Celeste,a girl!" he turned to his daughter, "is the only one with the courage to face the beasts. Marcus, you do the bare minimum, you're weak,once you kill a deer or two, you run back home, or play with your irresponsible friends, drinking and chasing after girls" he declared, his words sharp as the edge of a blade. The air thickened with the unspoken tension as he turned his attention to Ethan. "And you, Ethan," he began, "talk about protecting wolves, but it seems a lot like hypocrisy to me. If you can kill other animals, I see no reason why you should spare wolves. You seem to forget that every wolf you don't kill is a potential threat to livestock."
Ethan, jaw clenched, felt the weight of his father's words. He had prepared a defense, a rationale for his stance on hunting wolves only when necessary, but the words faltered on his tongue, he knew whatever he said would be like trying to penetrate a rock with water. He glanced at Marcus, the rift between them widening under the weight of their father's expectations.
The room fell into a hushed anticipation, eager for Ethan's response, yet he steered in another direction. Taking a composed breath, he withheld the words poised to challenge his father's perspective. Instead, he turned to Celeste, seated beside him, and inquired about the state of her injury. "How's it this morning?" he asked gently. Celeste, attempting to deflect attention from herself, replied, "It's better. I'm fine." A weighted silence descended upon the breakfast table, broken only by the rhythmic clinking of utensils against plates.
The unspoken tension loomed like a storm cloud, and Isabella, caught in the crossfire, wished for a moment of respite from her family's issues.
The sun cast long shadows as Thorne and Aria traversed the cobbled streets of Blackwood Town. After a journey that left the soles of their boots caked in the dust of distant paths, the bustling town square greeted them with a symphony of voices and the fragrance of commerce.
Aria's eyes swept the lively scene, her gaze landing on a man in his late forties. He stood at a convenient corner, his wares displayed in an inviting arrangement. Aria could discern the scent of humanity mingled with something more primal, something familiar. She turned to Thorne, her expression guarded yet discerning.
"There's a werewolf here," Aria murmured, her voice barely audible over the hum of the town. Thorne, attuned to the nuances of the supernatural, immediately tensed. "Where?" he inquired, scanning the crowd with a discerning eye.
Aria made a discreet gesture, directing Thorne's attention toward the man selling foodstuffs — Gabriel Moreau, the scent of his dual nature concealed beneath the aroma of his wares. Thorne nodded, acknowledging the information. Together, they approached the corner where Gabriel stood, the fragrant haze of spices and fresh produce surrounding them.
"Good afternoon," Thorne greeted, his tone measured but friendly. "We've just arrived in Blackwood and are in need of a place to rest. Can you point us to the best and most affordable inn in town?"
Gabriel, a kind smile etched on his weathered face, considered the strangers before him. "Ah, newcomers! You're in luck. The best inn in town might be a tad busy, but I've got a spare room at my place. It's not an inn, but it's cozy enough."
Thorne and Aria exchanged a glance, deliberating on the offer. After the weariness of their journey, the prospect of a comfortable place to rest was appealing. They accepted Gabriel's offer, grateful for the unexpected kindness.
Unbeknownst to Thorne and Aria, Gabriel's benevolence harbored a dual purpose. Gabriel handed over the running of his shop to one of the boys working for him, telling him he will be back soon. He leads them through the labyrinthine streets to his home, he caught the subtle scent that lingered on Aria. His instincts, finely tuned by years of navigating the complexities of being a werewolf in a human world, recognized the fragrance of another like him.
In offering shelter, Gabriel aimed not only to provide respite for weary travelers but also to unravel the mystery of these strangers. The purpose of Thorne and Aria's journey.
In the shadows on the outskirts of Blackwood, Darius maintained a watchful distance from Thorne and Aria. His instincts, finely tuned by centuries of existence, whispered that this she-wolf and sorcerer held the key to the elusive Lupus Dei. As the village drew near, he decided to conceal his vampiric features, a precautionary measure for the delicate dance he intended to perform.
Darius withdrew a small vial from the folds of his dark cloak. The liquid within shimmered like midnight sky reflecting on still waters. With a deliberate motion, he applied the cool blue substance to his red eyes. The once warm hue transformed into a natural, piercing blue—a color that mirrored the mesmerizing allure of a deep, enchanted lake.
Retracting his fangs and trimming his nails, Darius completed the ritual of concealment. The predatory features that marked him as a vampire vanished, leaving behind a visage that seamlessly blended with the humans he sought to navigate among.
Entering Blackwood with newfound anonymity, Darius surveyed the village square. His sharp gaze fell upon Marcus Duval, surrounded by friends, their laughter carried by the evening breeze. A twisted smile crept across Darius's lips, a calculated expression that concealed the predatory intent beneath.
Whispering to himself, the words barely audible amid the ambient sounds of the village, Darius acknowledged, "It seems I will do just fine over here with these handsome men." The lustful anticipation in his eyes hinted at the intricate web of deception and desire that he was about to weave.