The scent of blood lingered in the cold night air. Aiden crouched low in the undergrowth, his golden eyes glowing under the eerie light of the blue moon. His sharp claws dug into the damp soil as he listened to the quiet rustling of leaves carried by the wind. He could hear them—vampires. Their scent was thick, a mix of decay and something old, something unnatural.
He had waited years for this night. For vengeance.
His family had been slaughtered under this very moon. His mother's agonized cries, his father's last, defiant roar, the whimpers of his younger siblings before they were silenced—he remembered it all. The vampires had come like a shadowy plague, wiping out his pack, leaving him alone. The rage he carried had festered over the years, turning into something dangerous. Tonight, that rage would be unleashed
Through the trees ahead, he spotted the entrance to an underground lair, hidden beneath the ruins of an old cathedral. Vampires often made their nests in such places, remnants of the past buried beneath the world of the living.
Aiden took a deep breath. The night belonged to him.
With a silent sprint, he closed the distance and leapt onto the nearest guard, snapping his neck before the vampire could react. The body hit the ground with a soft thud.
The second guard turned, eyes widening.
Aiden slashed across his chest before he could scream. Blood sprayed against the cold stone walls, the scent fueling his thirst for battle.
More vampires rushed out, their red eyes glowing in the darkness.
Aiden bared his fangs.
"Come and die."
They attacked in a blur of motion—fangs bared, claws extended. But Aiden was faster. Stronger.
He tore through them with ruthless efficiency. Bones cracked beneath his claws, flesh ripped under his fangs. One vampire tried to leap onto his back, but he grabbed the creature midair and slammed it into the stone floor, crushing its skull beneath his boot.
A sword slashed toward his neck. Aiden ducked, feeling the sharp wind as the blade missed by mere inches. He spun, his claws cutting through the attacker's throat.
More came. Five, six, ten. He welcomed them all.
The fight was brutal, the stone walls of the underground chamber painted in crimson. The vampires screamed, their numbers dwindling as Aiden tore through them with unstoppable fury.
Then, the air shifted.
A slow clap echoed through the chamber.
Aiden stilled, his breath heavy.
From the darkness, a figure
Tall, clad in black, with an aura so suffocating it felt like the night itself bowed before him. His long silver hair contrasted sharply against his deathly pale skin. His crimson eyes—deeper and more menacing than the lesser vampires—studied Aiden with amusement.
Lord Varian. The ruler of these creatures. The one who led the massacre of Aiden's pack.
"I must admit," Varian said, his voice smooth, deadly, "I didn't expect you to make it this far."
Aiden snarled, his claws flexing. "I'll send you to the grave you crawled out of."
Varian chuckled, stepping closer. "Bold words. But do you know the difference between us, little wolf?"
Aiden lunged—fast as lightning, his claws aiming for Varian's throat.
But before he could even touch him, Varian vanished.
Then—pain.
Aiden's back slammed into the stone wall with crushing force. Blood spilled from his mouth as he struggled to stand
He hadn't even seen him move.
Varian sighed. "You're strong for a wolf, I'll give you that." He stepped forward, his fingers crackling with dark energy. "But you are not strong enough."
Before Aiden could react, darkness swallowed him whole.
Pain
That was all Aiden knew when he awoke. His body ached, his arms shackled above his head. The cold metal burned against his skin, laced with something that weakened him—silver.
He was in a dark, damp chamber. The scent of blood was thick in the air, old and fresh mixed together.
Varian's voice echoed in his mind.
You are not strong enough.
The days blurred together. Torture. Starvation. Beatings.
They wanted him broken.
But he wouldn't break.
Not until he had his revenge.
A week passed. Maybe more.
Then, one night, the door creaked open.
Aiden barely lifted his head as footsteps approached.
A figure stepped into the dim light.
A girl.
She wasn't like the others. Her scent was different—softer, unfamiliar.
She hesitated before speaking. "You have to leave."
Aiden narrowed his eyes. "Why would a vampire help me?"
She didn't answer. She only unshackled him, her hands trembling.
Aiden could barely stand, but her voice was urgent. "You don't have time. If my father finds out—
Varian's daughter.
A vampire helping a werewolf?
Something was wrong. But Aiden didn't have the strength to question it.
Not yet.
He staggered forward, one thought burning in his mind.
I will return.
And this time, he would not lose.
Aiden stumbled through the dense forest, his body weak from the week-long torture. His wounds throbbed, and dried blood crusted over his skin, but his mind was elsewhere.
Why did she save me?
Varian's daughter—his enemy—had unlocked his shackles, led him through the castle's dark corridors, and helped him escape. She had said nothing, just looked at him with an expression he couldn't read.
Aiden clenched his fists, his sharp claws digging into his palms as he pushed forward through the trees. He refused to believe she had done it out of kindness. Vampires didn't show mercy to werewolves. It had to be a trick—one that he would figure out soon.
He finally reached the ruined outskirts of his old pack's land. The once-thriving settlement was nothing but ash and rubble now. The scent of his people was long gone, replaced by death and decay. Aiden's chest tightened as he looked at the remnants of his home.
I failed them.
His legs gave out, and he collapsed against the cold ground, his breath ragged.
But this wasn't over.
He would not let Varian's people win. He had come so close to killing them all, only to be stopped by the vampire king himself. Next time, he would be stronger.
Aiden's gaze flickered to the sky, the full moon hidden behind thick clouds.
I will win. No matter what it takes.
His mind replayed the fight—how he had torn through the vampires, how he had felt their bones crack beneath his claws. He had been unstoppable until Varian appeared. The power radiating from the vampire leader had been suffocating, his speed inhuman. Aiden had fought with everything he had, but he was no match
His jaw tightened.
Next time, I will be ready for him
He forced himself to his feet and staggered toward the small underground hideout where he had stored weapons and supplies. He needed to heal, to regain his strength.
But even as he prepared for the next battle, a single thought refused to leave his mind.
Why did she save me?
And more importantly… would she regret it?
Aiden sat in the dimly lit hideout, his body aching from the wounds he had barely managed to bandage. The flickering candle beside him cast shadows across the stone walls, but none of them were as dark as the storm raging inside him.
He had failed.
His breath came slow and heavy as he leaned back against the cold wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. The images of the battle replayed in his mind—the way he had torn through the vampires, the rush of satisfaction when their screams filled the air, the scent of their burning flesh.
For a moment, he had thought he could win.
Then Varian had come.
Aiden clenched his fists, his claws threatening to break through his already torn gloves. Varian had humiliated him, toyed with him as if he were nothing. He had fought with everything he had, but it hadn't been enough.
I wasn't strong enough.
He swallowed back the bitterness, but it sat in his throat like poison. His father had died at the hands of those monsters. His mother had been slaughtered. His entire pack had been wiped out.
And yet, when it finally came time for revenge, he had fallen.
His teeth ground together, his breathing ragged. His family's voices whispered in the back of his mind. His father's last words, spoken in desperation as he had hidden Aiden away during the massacre:
"Survive. Live. Grow stronger."
But surviving wasn't enough. He had spent years training, growing, preparing for this moment. And yet, he had been crushed like an insect beneath Varian's heel.
His nails dug into his palm, drawing blood.
"I was supposed to avenge them," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I was supposed to be the one to end this war, not become another failure."
He felt weak. Worthless. A disgrace to his bloodline.
The walls of the hideout felt suffocating, the silence deafening. He had to do something. He couldn't sit here licking his wounds while those monsters continued their reign.
His gaze drifted to the weapons laid out before him—blades, daggers, old relics passed down by his ancestors. But none of them had been enough.
He needed more.
He needed power.
And this time, he would stop at nothing to get it.
Aiden pushed himself up, wincing as his ribs protested. He didn't have time for pain. He had to train, to grow stronger, to prepare for the day he would return to that castle.
Because next time, he wouldn't fall
Next time, he would put an end to Varian.
And nothing—nothing—would stand in his way.
The air inside the vampire stronghold was tense, thick with the scent of aged blood and candle wax. Shadows flickered across the stone walls as the vampires gathered in the grand hall, murmuring among themselves. The weight of what had happened—the impossible—hung over them like a dark cloud.
Aiden had escaped.
Varian sat at the head of the long, dark oak table, his crimson eyes burning with fury. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wood, the only sound in the otherwise silent chamber. He had expected silence, obedience, but instead, whispers filled the room like an infestation.
"This is unheard of," one of the elders finally spoke, his voice barely above a hiss. "No one has ever escaped from here. That room was designed to break even the strongest."
"A werewolf," another spat, disgust clear in his tone. "And not just any werewolf—a lone one with no pack, no reinforcements. How did he do it?"
The question loomed over them all. It shouldn't have been possible.
Varian's gaze flicked to his eldest son, Lucian, who stood stiffly beside him, arms crossed over his chest. Lucian had inherited his father's ruthless nature, but unlike Varian, he lacked patience.
"We should have torn his limbs off when we had the chance," Lucian growled. "He was weak. I don't understand how he—"
"He didn't escape alone."
Varian's voice was cold, final. The room stilled at his words.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Varian leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "Someone freed him."
A sharp silence followed.
The vampires glanced at one another, uncertainty and suspicion creeping into their expressions.
"Who?" one of them asked hesitantly.
Varian didn't answer immediately. He could feel it—a shift in the air, the faint scent of betrayal woven between the cracks of loyalty.
The door to the hall creaked open, and a figure entered, kneeling before Varian. It was one of the guards from the dungeon, his head bowed low.
"My Lord," the guard said, voice shaking slightly. "There were no signs of a break-in. The only people who had access to that chamber were those within our own walls."
Lucian's face darkened with realization. "That means—"
Varian's fingers curled into a fist. "It was one of us."
Tension snapped through the room like a whip. A betrayal within their own ranks? The very idea was unthinkable.
"Find out who it was," Varian ordered, his voice like ice. "Turn over every stone, interrogate every guard. And when you find the traitor…"
He let the sentence hang, but the meaning was clear.
Lucian's lips curled into a smirk. "I'll make sure they regret it."
Varian's eyes gleamed with something darker—something ancient and dangerous. "And as for Aiden…" He exhaled slowly, a deadly promise in his tone.
"He may have escaped once." His gaze sharpened, a hunter fixing his sights on prey. "But next time, he won't be so lucky"
Aiden's eyes snapped open.
A deep, unnatural hum vibrated in his ears, his body pulsing with an unfamiliar energy. His breathing was ragged as he lifted his hands, eyes widening at the sight before him—his veins glowed a dark crimson, his claws longer and sharper than before. A strange power coursed through his muscles, making them feel unbreakable.
He clenched his fists. The air around him shuddered at the mere motion. He could feel it—something had changed. He wasn't just healing faster. He was stronger. Faster. More alive than he had ever been.
Aiden exhaled, his breath misting despite the warmth of the night. He had barely escaped the vampires' grasp, and yet, rather than being broken, he had become something else.
Something more.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
Varian stood in the grand hall of the vampire stronghold, his piercing gaze fixed on the map spread across the table before him. The red markers on the map showed every location the werewolves once thrived. All destroyed. Every last one of them had been erased from existence.
All except one.
"Aiden should not be breathing," one of his men muttered. "We broke him. There's no way he—"
"We underestimated him," Varian interrupted, his voice calm yet laced with venom. His fingers tapped the hilt of his sword, his mind already calculating the next move. "We should have burned the body instead of assuming he would die in that cell."
Lucian turned to his second-in-command, Viktor. "Gather the hunters. I want patrols in every direction."
Viktor bowed. "And if we find him?"
Varian's crimson eyes gleamed. "We finish what we started."
Aiden stood in the dim glow of the moon, his body trembling, not from weakness—but from the overwhelming force surging through him. His veins burned like molten fire, his muscles coiled with newfound strength, and his claws gleamed sharper than ever. He could feel it—the awakening of something far greater than what he had ever known.
But then, he heard it.
A voice, neither male nor female, deep yet hollow, echoing inside his mind.
"Power always comes at a price."
Aiden's breath hitched. His wolf instincts screamed at him, telling him that whatever this was—it was ancient, dangerous, and most of all, binding.
"You seek vengeance, do you not?"
He didn't answer.
"You wish to destroy the vampires, to tear them apart, to leave nothing but their ashes in the wind."
Aiden gritted his teeth. "Yes."
The air around him stilled. Even the wind refused to move.
"Then accept my gift, and you shall become the strongest werewolf to ever walk this earth. Faster than the wind, stronger than steel. Even death will bow before you."
Aiden clenched his fists. The promise was tempting—too tempting.
But then, the voice whispered again, low and cruel.
"But you will pay a price."
Aiden narrowed his eyes. "What price?"
A deep chuckle filled his head, and then—the words that nearly brought him to his knees.
"You shall never sire an heir."
Aiden's breath caught.
"Your bloodline ends with you. No children, no future, no legacy."
The weight of those words slammed into him like a silver blade to the chest. His kind was already dying. He was the last survivor, the last hope of the werewolves. And if he accepted this power… he would truly be the end.
He wanted revenge—more than anything. He wanted to watch the vampires burn for what they did to his family. But was he willing to give up everything for it?
His pack had died so that their bloodline could live on. If he took this deal… he would be spitting on everything they had fought for.
But if he didn't take it…
He would never win.
The vampires were too strong. Varian had crushed his kind without mercy. No ordinary werewolf could defeat him.
Aiden closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
What was more important?
His revenge?
Or his legacy?
Minutes passed. The voice remained silent, waiting. The fire inside Aiden's chest grew wilder, untamed, like a beast demanding to be freed.
And then—he made his decision.
His eyes snapped open, now glowing an unnatural, ominous red.
"I accept."
A sudden force surged through him, wrapping around his very soul. The air around him vibrated, the trees bent as an invisible force pulsed outward. Aiden's bones cracked, reforming into something stronger, his senses exploded beyond mortal limits, and his heartbeat became an unrelenting drum of power.
For the first time in his life—he felt invincible.
But deep inside his chest, there was an empty void where something precious had been taken.
And he knew.
He had paid the price.
And there was no turning back.