The moonlight sifted through the forest canopy like pale, broken glass, scattering thin shards of silver across the earth. Jack moved through them with trained silence. Every footfall landed softly on damp moss, every breath forced shallow so it wouldn't cloud his hearing. The forest was alive tonight, whispering with unseen things. He felt it in the air—something watching, something waiting.
He crouched beside a snapped twig. Fresh. Too fresh.
Ahead, a faint rustle trembled through the undergrowth. Jack froze. His fingers eased toward the dagger at his belt as he pressed his back against the trunk of an ancient oak. He leaned forward just enough to see past the bark's shadow.
A clearing opened beyond the tree line.
There—kneeling beside a small fire—was a young woman. Early twenties, human-looking at first glance, though the moonlight revealed otherwise. Her dark hair spilled loose over her shoulders, and her pointed ears caught the silver glow. An elf. Or so Jack believed.
She stirred something in a ceramic pot hanging over the flames. Alone. Vulnerable. Too calm for these woods.
Jack exhaled slowly. A lone woman at night meant either extraordinary bravery—or something far more dangerous.
He stepped out. "Hello?"
She reacted with terrifying speed.
The pot shattered against a rock, spilling steaming liquid. She spun into a crouch, fingers splayed, silver eyes burning like polished metal. Her gaze locked on him—cold, feral, assessing.
"Who's there?" Her voice carried a musical edge, familiar in cadence yet sharpened by danger.
Jack raised both hands. "I'm not going to hurt you. I saw the fire, thought someone might be in trouble."
She inhaled deeply. Her expression shifted the moment his scent reached her. "Human." The word rolled off her tongue like a curse. "Why are you wandering these woods after dusk?"
"Hunting birds," Jack lied.
Her lips curled, revealing the faint glint of fangs. "Birds? At night?" She stalked toward him, feet silent on the leaves. "With a bow?"
She got close—too close—and Jack's instincts prickled. She wasn't just an elf. She wasn't even just dangerous. She was wrong.
He forced a steady tone. "I was hoping for food. Maybe conversation."
She held his gaze for a long, suffocating moment, then stepped aside. "Very well. Share my meal."
He glanced at the shattered pot.
And his stomach dropped.
Blood. A dark pool of it. Warm. Thick. Fresh.
Jack's breath hitched.
Her posture shifted instantly. Her eyes narrowed, hunger glinting sharp as knives. She rose to her full height, shadow stretching long behind her.
"You're horrified," she murmured. "Why?"
Jack swallowed. "I… wasn't expecting that."
"You thought I was just an elf," she whispered. "How quaint."
Her smile widened. "Pretty pointy ears, you said? Foolish little hunter."
Jack forced his back straight. "What should I call you?"
"Lyra," she answered. "And you? Should I call you the stupid hunter?"
He grit his teeth. "Just Jack."
She circled him lazily, like a predator deciding where to bite first. "I can smell your fear," she said softly. "Delicious."
He shifted away—only for her to block his path with a fluid step.
"Can you let me go peacefully?" he asked. "I won't tell anyone what I saw."
Lyra laughed. A beautiful sound. A deadly one. "You think you have leverage here?"
Jack managed a thin smile. "If I scream, the forest folk will come running. They won't blame me."
Her eyes flashed with amusement.
Then the bush behind her exploded.
A hulking shape lunged out—a massive werewolf, fur matted, teeth bared in a snarl. Its jaws clamped around Lyra's neck, lifting her off her feet. Blood sprayed across Jack's face.
Lyra's scream was sharp—less pain, more fury. Her claws tore into the beast's face, ripping at its eyes. It howled, releasing her just long enough for her to drop and spin.
"Run," she rasped, throat torn open.
Jack barely had a second to move before she shoved him aside with supernatural force. He hit the dirt hard, rolling as the werewolf lunged again.
Lyra met the charge head-on, slamming her palm into its chest. The impact sent the creature sprawling. She leapt onto its torso, claws tearing across its throat. Blood splashed across the trees.
The werewolf surged upward, jaws clamping her torn neck again. She screamed, rage twisting her features as she wrenched free, flesh ripping.
Jack pressed against a tree, frozen in horrified awe.
He had to run. He knew he had to run.
But he didn't.
The werewolf knocked Lyra into a tree with bone-crunching force. She slumped, barely standing. The beast approached, claws raised.
Jack's fingers closed around his bow.
He aimed.
The arrow flew.
It struck the werewolf's eye with a sickening sound.
The beast howled, staggering back, blood pouring down its face. Lyra slid down the tree trunk, collapsing. The werewolf turned, retreating into the darkness.
Jack rushed forward.
"Lyra—" he breathed, catching her as she slumped sideways. Her blood soaked his hands instantly.
Her eyes fluttered open. "Fool," she rasped. "Why?"
"You were dying." He pressed his palm against the wound, trying to stem the flow. "I couldn't just—"
She grabbed his tunic weakly. "You're… kind. Or stupid."
Blood bubbled at her lips.
Jack felt something tighten in his chest. "How can I run after you risked yourself for me?"
Lyra laughed bitterly, coughing blood. "I'm tired… of watching fools die."
Jack swallowed, throat tight. "Let me help you."
Lyra's silver eyes dimmed with exhaustion. "You can't."
"I can." Jack inhaled shakily. "Drink. My blood. You'll die before I can find a rabbit."
Her breath trembled. "You would offer me that?" Her cold fingers brushed his throat. "You fear me. And yet…"
Jack didn't move. "Do it."
"For your own sake…" she whispered, "…I hope you understand what you're giving."
Her mouth brushed his skin.
Her fangs pierced him—slow, deliberate.
His breath hitched. Fire surged through his veins, flooding him with something sharp and electric. His hands tightened on her shoulders as she drank, her grip tightening around him.
The world blurred.
And then—
Lyra tore herself away.
Her eyes widened with horror.
"You're… turning."
Jack swayed, vision doubling. "Turning…?"
"No human turns unless—unless they…"
She froze.
Her expression shattered into shock, anger, confusion.
She grabbed his collar, pulling him close, trembling.
"Why do you love me?" she demanded, voice breaking.
Jack's breath stopped.
"I—I don't—"
"Your blood sings for me," she snarled. "You've bound us. Marriage by blood, idiot!"
Jack stared.
Lyra trembled.
"Damn you, Jack," she whispered, voice cracking. "I'm not ready for this."