Veer eased the window open with movements that made no sound against the night air, his enhanced coordination allowing him to slip through the opening with the fluid grace of someone who'd been doing this far longer than two nights. The familiar sensation of cool Pacific Northwest air against his skin brought an immediate sense of anticipation—freedom from the careful restraint that marked his human interactions, and the promise of discovering more about the divine power that hummed beneath his carefully maintained exterior.
The jump from roof to ground was becoming routine, his enhanced physiology absorbing the impact with ease that would have been impossible in his previous life. His bare feet found purchase on the wet grass without sound, and within moments he was jogging toward the tree line with the kind of purposeful stride that suggested serious intent rather than casual exercise.
The forest welcomed him like an old friend, evergreen branches parting to create pathways that seemed designed for his passage. His enhanced senses immediately began cataloging the night's offerings—the rich scent of decomposing leaves and growing things, the distant sound of water moving over stone, the complex layered ecosystem of a healthy temperate rainforest operating under cover of darkness.
But underneath the natural symphony, something else caught his attention.
He was being watched.
The realization came not from any specific sound or visual cue, but from the subtle shift in forest energy that marked the presence of apex predators. His enhanced hearing focused, filtering through the ambient noise of wind and water and small creatures going about their nocturnal business.
There—approximately a hundred meters behind him and maintaining careful distance, three distinct patterns of movement that were too coordinated to be coincidental.
Veer's lips curved into a grin as he recognized the particular rhythm of vampire locomotion. Supernatural grace, inhuman speed, but still bound by the need to navigate terrain and maintain stealth. His followers were good, but his divine senses were better.
"...can't believe he just jumped off the roof like that," Eleanor's voice carried clearly to his enhanced hearing, pitched at the level vampires used when they thought they were beyond human detection range. "I mean, we all just saw him do it, but watching it? That's not normal human athletic ability."
"The way he moves through the forest is even more impressive," Edythe's refined tones added with what sounded like genuine admiration. "Look at him—no wasted motion, perfect balance, like he was born for this environment."
"Girls," Jessamyn's honey drawl carried a note of what could only be described as appreciation that went far beyond athletic performance, "are we going to talk about technique all night, or are we going to address the elephant in the room?"
"Which elephant would that be?" Eleanor asked with barely suppressed laughter.
"The fact that our cosmic mate is practically naked and looks like he was personally sculpted by whatever divine forces govern teenage fantasies," Jessamyn replied with characteristic directness. "Because I have to say, those compression shorts are not leaving much to the imagination."
Veer felt heat rise in his cheeks despite the cool night air. Being objectified by three supernatural beauties while jogging through a forest was definitely not an experience covered in any handbook for divine avatars.
"Jessamyn," Edythe's voice carried fond reproof, though there was obvious amusement in her tone, "some observations are better kept to oneself."
"Why? It's not like he can hear us from this distance," Jessamyn shot back. "Besides, look at those shoulders. Those abs. The way his muscles move when he runs. If we're going to be following him through the forest, we might as well appreciate the scenery."
"She has a point," Eleanor agreed with growing enthusiasm. "I mean, we've seen plenty of attractive men over the decades, but this is... this is something else entirely. The proportions, the definition, the way everything flows together. He's like a living anatomy textbook."
"A very well-illustrated anatomy textbook," Jessamyn added with obvious satisfaction.
Despite his embarrassment at being the subject of such detailed physical assessment, Veer found himself genuinely touched by their appreciation. More importantly, their conversation had revealed something tactically significant: they assumed he couldn't hear them from their current distance.
Which meant they had no idea about the true extent of his enhanced capabilities.
*Time for a little experiment,* he decided, subtly increasing his pace to test their ability to keep up.
The response was immediate. Behind him, the rhythm of vampire movement shifted as his followers adjusted to match his new speed. But there was something in the pattern that suggested they were working harder than they'd expected to maintain their surveillance distance.
*Interesting,* Veer thought, pushing his pace a little faster. *Even in base human form, I'm making them work to keep up.*
"Is it just me," Eleanor's voice carried a note of confusion, "or did he just speed up again?"
"He definitely sped up," Edythe confirmed, and there was tactical assessment in her tone. "That's... unusual. Most humans can't sustain that kind of pace through forest terrain."
"Most humans can't jump off two-story roofs without breaking their ankles either," Jessamyn pointed out with growing interest. "Our boy is definitely not operating within normal human parameters."
Veer grinned as he continued to gradually increase his speed, noting the way his followers' breathing patterns began to shift with the exertion of maintaining their pursuit. In vampire physiology, breathing was largely voluntary—they didn't need oxygen the way humans did. But sustained physical effort still required energy expenditure, and energy expenditure still produced the physiological responses that marked exertion.
*They're actually having to work to keep up with me,* he realized with growing satisfaction. *In my base human form, I'm pushing vampires to their casual exercise limits.*
The implications were significant. If his normal human capabilities were already challenging for vampires to match, what would his full divine transformation be capable of?
Only one way to find out.
Ahead, the forest opened into a clearing he remembered from the previous night—a natural amphitheater surrounded by towering evergreens, with enough open space for the kind of transformation that required room to maneuver. More importantly, it was isolated enough that whatever happened next wouldn't be observed by anyone except his supernatural followers.
"Where's he going?" Eleanor's voice carried curiosity mixed with growing concern. "That clearing ahead—there's nothing there except open space."
"Maybe he needs room for something," Edythe suggested, though her tone indicated she wasn't sure what that 'something' might be.
Veer jogged to the center of the clearing and stopped, turning to face the tree line where he knew three pairs of golden eyes were watching his every movement. The moonlight filtering through the cloud cover provided enough illumination for vampire vision to track him clearly, though he suspected what happened next would be visible regardless of lighting conditions.
"You can come out," he called to the forest, his voice carrying clearly across the space between them. "I know you're there."
The silence stretched for several moments, broken only by the whisper of wind through branches and the distant sound of an owl calling from deeper in the forest.
Then, with the fluid grace that marked their species, three figures emerged from the shadows.
Eleanor appeared first, her compact frame radiating the kind of barely contained energy that suggested she was prepared for either conversation or conflict. Edythe followed with refined composure, though Veer's enhanced senses caught the subtle tension in her posture that indicated heightened alertness. Jessamyn brought up the rear, moving with tactical precision that suggested she was automatically assessing escape routes and defensive positions.
"Well," Jessamyn said with a drawl that carried both amusement and something that might have been embarrassment, "this is awkward."
"We were just..." Eleanor started, then seemed to realize there was no reasonable explanation for following someone through the forest at midnight.
"Concerned about your safety," Edythe finished with the kind of diplomatic precision that made obvious lies sound almost plausible. "The recent animal attacks have everyone on edge."
Veer looked at the three of them—supernatural predators who had abandoned their usual careful distance to follow him into the wilderness, now standing in a moonlit clearing and trying to explain behavior that was obviously motivated by curiosity rather than concern.
"Right," he said with a grin that suggested he'd caught enough of their conversation to know exactly what had motivated their pursuit. "Safety concerns. Very thoughtful of you."
The way he emphasized 'safety concerns' made all three sisters look slightly uncomfortable, though whether from embarrassment at being caught or concern about what he might have overheard was unclear.
"How did you know we were following you?" Eleanor asked with obvious curiosity. "We were being careful to maintain distance."
"Enhanced hearing," Veer replied honestly. "Among other things."
"Enhanced how enhanced?" Jessamyn asked, and there was tactical interest in her voice.
Instead of answering directly, Veer took a step back, centering himself in the clearing's open space. The time for careful revelation had passed. If three vampire sisters were going to follow him into the forest to observe his nocturnal activities, they were going to get the full show.
"You wanted to know what other capabilities I've been modest about mentioning," he said, his voice carrying across the clearing with perfect clarity. "Let me show you."
He closed his eyes and reached for the divine power that hummed constantly beneath his human facade. The transformation began as it had the previous night—heat exploding through his body, not painful but overwhelmingly present, like being filled with liquid sunlight.
His muscles expanded with supernatural efficiency, not the awkward bulk of human bodybuilding but the perfect predatory strength of a divine guardian. His frame stretched taller, broader, more imposing. His facial features shifted, becoming more angular, more leonine, while still remaining recognizably him.
And then the mane began to grow.
Golden hair cascaded from his head and neck, thick and magnificent, marking him unmistakably as what he truly was: Narasimha, the divine protector, the lion-man who stood between innocent and those who would harm them.
When the transformation completed, Veer opened eyes that now glowed with inner fire and looked at the three vampire sisters who stood frozen in the moonlight, their expressions shifting through shock, recognition, and something that looked remarkably like awe.
"Oh my god," Eleanor whispered, her voice barely audible even to supernatural hearing. "What... what is he?"
"I don't know," Edythe replied with the kind of stunned precision that suggested her refined composure had completely abandoned her. "I've never seen anything like this. Never even heard of anything like this."
Jessamyn was staring at him with golden eyes that had gone wide with something that transcended mere surprise. When she finally spoke, her honey drawl was rough with emotion that she wasn't bothering to hide.
"Sugar," she said quietly, "you are definitely not what we were expecting."
Veer—Narasimha—stood in the center of the clearing, bathed in moonlight and radiating the kind of divine authority that made lesser beings instinctively recognize they were in the presence of something ancient and powerful. His enhanced physique was magnificent in its supernatural perfection, his golden mane caught the light like spun metal, and his eyes held depths that spoke of cosmic purpose and protective fury.
"This is what I am," he said, his voice carrying harmonics that hadn't been present in his human form. "This is what you're meant to share."
The three sisters exchanged glances that carried volumes of supernatural communication—the kind of wordless dialogue that came from decades of shared existence and perfect understanding of each other's thoughts.
"Well," Eleanor said finally, her voice carrying the kind of determined cheer that suggested she was processing revelations that challenged her understanding of reality, "this certainly explains the enhanced athletic ability."
"And the confidence," Edythe added with growing appreciation. "It's hard to be intimidated by high school social dynamics when you're... whatever you are."
"Divine," Jessamyn said with certainty that came from somewhere deeper than rational analysis. "He's divine. I don't know the specifics, but this isn't just supernatural. This is... holy."
Narasimha nodded slowly, pleased by her recognition even as he wondered how to explain concepts from Hindu mythology to three vampires who clearly had no frame of reference for his particular brand of cosmic significance.
"Narasimha," he said simply, the name carrying weight in the forest air. "The fourth avatar of Vishnu. Guardian, protector, defender of the innocent. Born to stand against those who would harm the defenseless."
The silence that followed his explanation was broken only by the wind and the distant sounds of forest life, as three vampire sisters processed the revelation that their cosmically destined mate was not just supernatural, but actively divine.
And somewhere in the depths of the Olympic National Forest, three nomad vampires continued their pattern of attacks, completely unaware that they had just entered the territory of something far more dangerous than local law enforcement.
The hunt, Narasimha reflected with divine satisfaction, was about to begin in earnest.
—
Fifteen miles northeast of Forks, in a section of Olympic National Forest where the canopy grew so thick that moonlight barely penetrated to the forest floor, three figures moved through the darkness with the fluid coordination of apex predators who had spent decades perfecting their hunt.
James led the small coven with the focused intensity that had made him one of the most successful trackers in the vampire world. His sandy hair was pulled back from sharp features that carried the kind of predatory beauty that marked all of his species, but his pale eyes held depths of calculated cruelty that set him apart from mere hunters. This was a creature who didn't simply kill for sustenance—he killed for the artistry of the chase, the intellectual satisfaction of solving complex tracking puzzles, and the pure pleasure of demonstrating his superiority over lesser beings.
Behind him, Victoria moved with the lethal grace of a natural-born killer, her brilliant orange hair seeming to generate its own light in the forest shadows. Where James was calculated and methodical, Victoria was pure predatory instinct—faster than most vampires, more vicious than necessary, and utterly devoted to the pursuit of violence for its own sake. Her gift of enhanced evasion made her nearly impossible to track once she decided to disappear, but tonight she was content to follow James's lead as they explored their new hunting territory.
Laurent brought up the rear, his dark skin and refined features carrying the kind of old-world sophistication that spoke of centuries spent in more civilized pursuits before he'd fallen in with his current companions. He was the diplomat of the group, the voice of reason that occasionally suggested caution or strategy when James's enthusiasm threatened to draw unwanted attention. But beneath his cultivated exterior lurked the same predatory hunger that drove all of their kind, and his willingness to participate in their increasingly bold hunting expeditions proved that his civilized facade was exactly that—a facade.
"The local law enforcement is becoming tedious," Laurent observed as they paused at the edge of a small clearing, his accent carrying traces of his French origins. "Three kills in a week may have been... excessive."
"Excessive?" James's laugh carried the kind of cold amusement that made prey animals flee without understanding why. "We've barely begun to explore what this region has to offer. The Olympic Peninsula is practically a hunting preserve—endless wilderness, minimal human presence, and law enforcement that thinks in terms of ordinary predators."
"James has a point," Victoria added, her voice carrying the lazy satisfaction of someone who had recently fed well. "These local humans have no idea what they're dealing with. That police chief—Swan—actually thinks he's hunting some kind of rogue bear."
"Still," Laurent persisted with diplomatic caution, "drawing attention serves no purpose beyond satisfying our immediate appetites. Surely there are more... discrete... ways to enjoy the local offerings."
James paused in his examination of recent deer tracks, fixing Laurent with pale eyes that held depths of barely controlled violence. "Discretion is overrated," he said with the kind of casual menace that had ended more than one disagreement in their favor. "We are apex predators in a world of sheep. Why should we limit ourselves to accommodate the sensibilities of our food sources?"
Before Laurent could respond to that philosophical challenge, James's enhanced senses caught something that made his entire posture shift from casual arrogance to focused predatory attention.
A scent.
Not the familiar chemical signatures of the deer, elk, and smaller mammals that populated these forests. Not the various human odors that drifted from the nearby town of Forks. This was something entirely different—complex, layered, carrying elements that should have been mutually exclusive.
Human. Definitely human, with the warm blood and beating heart that marked mortal prey.
But underneath the human scent was something else. Something that spoke of power, authority, and the kind of primal dominance that made even apex predators reconsider their position in the natural order.
"Do you smell that?" James asked quietly, his voice carrying the kind of focused intensity that marked him at his most dangerous.
Victoria's nostrils flared as she sampled the night air, her expression shifting from lazy satisfaction to sharp interest. "Human," she confirmed, "but... different. Enhanced somehow."
Laurent was conducting his own olfactory analysis with the methodical precision that had kept him alive through several centuries of supernatural politics. "There's something familiar about it," he said slowly, "but I can't quite place what. It's like... human, but elevated. Purified."
"More than elevated," James corrected with growing excitement, his tracking instincts fully engaged now. "This is something I've never encountered before. Human physiology, but carrying power signatures that suggest capabilities far beyond mortal limitations."
He began moving through the forest with renewed purpose, following the scent trail with the kind of focused precision that had made him legendary among his kind. This wasn't the lazy hunting that had characterized their recent activities in the Olympic Peninsula. This was the kind of challenge that had originally drawn him to the tracking arts—something unique, potentially dangerous, and definitely worthy of his specialized skills.
"James," Victoria called out, her voice carrying a note of excitement that matched his own, "how fast do you think it's moving?"
James paused to examine a patch of disturbed earth, noting the depth and spacing of footprints that told a story of supernatural athleticism. "Fast," he replied with satisfaction. "Faster than any human should be capable of. Look at these tracks—the spacing suggests a sustained pace that would kill a normal person within minutes."
"And the depth," Laurent added, having joined the examination, "suggests significantly enhanced body mass. This creature, whatever it is, carries more physical presence than its scent profile would indicate."
The trail led deeper into the forest, away from human habitation and toward the kind of isolated wilderness that provided ideal hunting grounds. But more importantly to James, it represented something he had never encountered in over two centuries of predatory existence: genuine mystery.
"We're following it," he announced with the kind of authority that brooked no disagreement from his companions.
"James," Laurent said with diplomatic concern, "perhaps we should consider the possibility that something capable of producing such... unusual... scent signatures might represent a threat rather than prey."
"Everything represents a threat," James replied with cold logic, "until you understand its capabilities and limitations. Then it becomes either food or competition to be eliminated."
Victoria's laugh was like breaking glass given voice. "Besides," she added with obvious anticipation, "when was the last time we encountered anything that could provide a real challenge? The local humans have been tedious. This might actually be entertaining."
As they began following the scent trail in earnest, James felt the familiar rush of endorphins that accompanied the beginning of a truly interesting hunt. His gift was more than mere enhanced tracking—it was the ability to understand prey on a fundamental level, to predict behavior, to anticipate responses, to turn the hunt into an inevitability rather than a contest.
But this scent carried complexities that challenged his usual methodologies. The human elements suggested mortal vulnerabilities—the need for oxygen, food, rest, the physical limitations that made humans such satisfying prey. But the power signatures indicated capabilities that might rival or exceed vampire abilities.
"How old do you think it is?" Victoria asked as they moved through the forest with coordinated efficiency, each of them automatically taking positions that would prevent their quarry from escaping once they made contact.
"Unknown," James admitted, which was itself unusual. His tracking abilities typically allowed him to determine age, gender, emotional state, and various other characteristics from scent analysis alone. "The power signature is ancient, but the human elements suggest youth. It's... contradictory."
"Perhaps it's some kind of hybrid," Laurent suggested with academic interest. "We've heard rumors of various supernatural crossbreeds—vampire-human, werewolf-human, other combinations that produce unusual characteristics."
"No," James said with certainty, pausing to sample the air more carefully. "This isn't a hybrid. Hybrids carry the scent signatures of both parent species. This is something else entirely. Something... pure."
The trail was leading them toward higher elevation, into sections of forest where the evergreens grew so tall and dense that they created a natural cathedral of living pillars. The scent was growing stronger, more complex, carrying additional layers that suggested recent transformation or enhancement.
"It's changing," Victoria observed with sharp interest. "Whatever we're tracking, it's not maintaining consistent characteristics."
"Shapeshifter," Laurent concluded with growing caution. "That would explain the contradictory scent profile."
"Not shapeshifter," James corrected, his tracking instincts providing information that his conscious mind was still processing. "Transformation, yes, but not the kind that changes species. This is more like... actualization. Something becoming what it was always meant to be."
They had been following the trail for nearly an hour when James caught the first traces of additional scents that made him pause with genuine surprise. Three distinct vampire signatures, all female, all carrying the refined chemical markers that suggested the kind of sophisticated existence that came from integration with human society.
"We have company," he announced quietly, his pale eyes scanning the forest around them with renewed attention.
"Local coven?" Victoria asked, her posture shifting subtly into combat readiness.
"Possibly. Three females, well-fed, carrying scent markers that suggest permanent residence rather than nomadic behavior." James studied the overlapping trail patterns with growing interest. "They're following the same target we are."
"Competition," Victoria said with anticipation that carried undertones of violence.
"Or," Laurent suggested with diplomatic precision, "potential allies. If local vampires are tracking the same anomaly we are, perhaps they have information that could prove useful."
James considered this possibility while continuing to analyze the increasingly complex scent patterns. The local vampires had been following their target for some time, maintaining careful distance but clearly conducting sustained surveillance. Their behavior patterns suggested curiosity rather than predatory intent, which was itself interesting.
"No," he said finally, his tracking instincts providing insights that went beyond mere scent analysis. "They're not hunting it. They're... protecting it. Or at least maintaining protective proximity."
"Protecting what?" Victoria asked with confusion that carried undertones of irritation.
"Our prey," James replied with growing satisfaction. "Whatever we're tracking, it's under the protection of the local coven. Which means it's either valuable enough to warrant vampire protection, or dangerous enough to require vampire management."
"Either way," Laurent observed with growing unease, "interfering with local supernatural politics could complicate our situation considerably."
"On the contrary," James said with the kind of cold calculation that had made him successful through centuries of predatory existence, "it makes our situation infinitely more interesting. A mystery prey that attracts vampire protection? This is exactly the kind of challenge that makes existence worthwhile."
The trail was leading them toward a natural clearing ahead, where the forest opened up to create the kind of amphitheater that would provide excellent visibility for whatever confrontation was about to unfold. James could smell the convergence of all the scent signatures they'd been tracking—their original target, the three local vampires, and something else that defied easy categorization.
"Something's happening up there," Victoria observed with predatory excitement.
"Something significant," Laurent agreed with reluctant fascination.
James felt the familiar rush of anticipation that came with approaching the climax of a particularly complex hunt. Whatever waited in that clearing represented the kind of challenge that had originally drawn him to the tracking arts—something unique, potentially dangerous, and definitely worthy of his specialized attention.
"Remember," he said quietly as they approached the edge of the clearing, "observation first. We need to understand what we're dealing with before we commit to any particular course of action."
But even as he spoke, James was already calculating attack patterns, escape routes, and the various ways this encounter could unfold to their advantage. Because regardless of what mystery awaited them in that moonlit space, one thing was certain: before the night was over, he would understand exactly what they were dealing with.
And once he understood it, he would own it.
The clearing lay just ahead, bathed in moonlight and promising answers to questions that had driven them through miles of wilderness. James smiled with anticipation that carried promises of violence, revelation, and the kind of supreme satisfaction that came from proving—once again—that he was the apex predator in any environment he chose to hunt.
Behind him, Victoria and Laurent prepared for whatever confrontation awaited, each of them confident in their abilities and secure in their superiority over whatever local complications they might encounter.
None of them had ever heard of Narasimha.
None of them understood what divine protection actually meant.
And none of them realized that for the first time in their predatory existence, they were about to discover what it felt like to become the prey.
—
Narasimha's enhanced senses had been tracking the approaching threat for several minutes before the three vampire sisters became aware of the danger. The scent signatures were unmistakable—three nomad vampires moving with predatory intent through the forest, following his trail with the kind of focused precision that marked experienced hunters.
But more concerning than their approach was the particular combination of scents he was detecting. One carried the chemical markers of obsessive tracking behavior, another radiated the kind of violence that came from killing for pleasure rather than necessity, and the third bore traces of sophisticated calculation that suggested strategic thinking.
*James, Victoria, and Laurent,* he realized with grim certainty. *Right on schedule.*
Eleanor was the first of the sisters to catch the approaching scents, her compact frame going rigid with the kind of supernatural alertness that preceded either flight or fight responses.
"We're not alone," she said quietly, her usual enthusiasm replaced by tactical assessment. "Three vampires, heading this way. Fast."
Edythe's refined features shifted into an expression of controlled alarm. "Nomads. The scent patterns suggest they're not from any established coven."
Jessamyn's honey drawl carried undertones of steel. "And they're tracking something specific. Which means they followed our boy's trail here."
Narasimha turned to face the three sisters, his golden mane catching the moonlight and his eyes holding depths of divine authority that made even vampire instincts recognize they were in the presence of something far beyond ordinary supernatural hierarchy.
"They're here for me," he said simply, his voice carrying harmonics that resonated with cosmic power. "Three nomads who've been killing hikers in the area. They picked up my scent and decided I represented an interesting challenge."
"Then we need to get you out of here," Eleanor said immediately, her protective instincts fully engaged. "Three against four might be manageable, but if they're experienced hunters—"
"No."
The single word carried such absolute authority that all three sisters fell silent, their vampire instincts responding to something primal in Narasimha's presence.
"This is why I'm here," he continued, his divine nature asserting itself with increasing intensity. "These nomads have killed innocent people. They're terrorizing Charlie's jurisdiction, endangering everyone in the area, and they represent exactly the kind of threat that Narasimha was created to eliminate."
Jessamyn's golden eyes searched his transformed features with growing understanding. "Sugar, you're talking about hunting them. All three of them. Alone."
"I'm talking about protecting the innocent by removing a clear and present danger," Narasimha corrected with the kind of moral certainty that came from divine purpose. "This is what I am. This is what I do."
Edythe's refined composure carried undertones of barely controlled concern. "Veer, we understand the protective impulse, but three nomad vampires with unknown gifts and decades of combat experience—"
"Are about to discover what divine authority means in practical application," Narasimha interrupted with growing intensity. "I can sense them now. Less than a quarter mile and closing fast. The tracker is excited—he thinks he's found something unique to add to his collection. The red-headed female is anticipating violence. And the diplomat is calculating whether they can take me alive for interrogation."
His enhanced senses were providing him with information that went far beyond mere scent analysis. The divine power that flowed through his transformed body carried awareness of threat levels, intent patterns, and the kind of cosmic justice calculations that ordinary supernatural beings couldn't access.
"They've made their choice," he continued with the inexorable certainty of natural law. "Now they get to live with the consequences."
Eleanor bounced forward with characteristic directness. "Then let us help. Four against three is much better odds, and we know how to work as a team."
"No." Narasimha's refusal was gentle but absolute. "This is my hunt. My responsibility. My purpose."
"But—" Jessamyn started.
"Listen to me," Narasimha said, his voice carrying the kind of divine authority that made arguing feel like questioning the fundamental structure of reality. "I am not Veer Dwyer, seventeen-year-old high school student, who needs protection from supernatural threats. I am Narasimha, fourth avatar of Vishnu, divine guardian created specifically to stand between the innocent and those who would harm them."
He gestured toward the forest where the approaching scents were growing stronger with each passing moment.
"Those three have spent decades believing they are the apex predators in any situation they encounter. They hunt humans for sport, kill for pleasure, and terrorize entire regions because no one has ever been able to stop them effectively."
His golden eyes blazed with inner fire that spoke of cosmic justice and divine wrath.
"Tonight, they learn that there are consequences for preying on the innocent. Tonight, they discover what it feels like to be hunted by something that was designed to hunt them."
The three sisters exchanged glances that carried volumes of supernatural communication, weighing his words against their protective instincts and their growing understanding of exactly what kind of power they were witnessing.
"What do you want us to do?" Edythe asked finally, her refined voice carrying acceptance of his authority mixed with concern for his safety.
"Stay back," Narasimha replied simply. "Watch if you want to understand what divine protection looks like in practice. But do not interfere. This is between me and them."
Eleanor's compact frame vibrated with barely contained energy. "And if something goes wrong? If they're stronger or more dangerous than you're expecting?"
Narasimha's smile carried the kind of terrifying benevolence that marked divine beings who had made peace with the necessity of absolute violence in service of absolute good.
"Eleanor," he said gently, "I can lift mountains. I can run faster than your vampire reflexes can track. I can roar with enough force to shatter stone and break the will of anything that hears it."
He paused, letting that information settle into their supernatural understanding.
"The only thing that could go wrong is if I show them more mercy than they've shown their victims."
In the distance, the sound of approaching footsteps announced that the nomads had reached the edge of the clearing. Three figures emerged from the tree line with predatory confidence, their pale eyes scanning the moonlit space with the kind of calculated assessment that marked experienced hunters evaluating new prey.
Narasimha turned to face them, divine power radiating from his transformed frame like heat from a forge, and smiled with the terrible patience of justice finally given form.
The hunt was about to begin.
---
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