Chapter Text
The forest was quiet in the way only ancient places could be—where time stretched thin, where even the wind hesitated. Chan moved through it like a shadow, his steps silent, betraying the speed he was moving at.
It had taken the coven hours to track the hunter’s camp. Chan had been careful, slipping between the trees, keeping to the high branches when the undergrowth threatened to betray him. Not that it mattered—he had been doing this long enough to know how blind humans were to things that didn’t want to be seen. Hyunjin would be out here somewhere, with Changbin not far behind, no doubt. A fleeting thought, as Chan paused on a sturdy branch of a tall pine.
Leaning against the trunk, his gaze narrowed. In front of him, a small camp. Lanterns painted warm on the flimsy frames of fabric tents and crates of supplies. A figure emerged from one of the tents before long.
The hunter seemed to be alone, he seated himself beside the dying fire, a whetstone in one hand and a blade in the other. A hunter’s ritual—preparing for what lurked beyond the light. But his hands weren’t steady.
Chan smirked.
He had been watching for a while now, long enough to notice the way the figure’s shoulders tensed, the way his gaze flicked toward the darkness between the trees. He knew he was being watched.
Good.
Chan shifted his weight just enough to let the branch beneath him creak. A whisper of sound. Barely anything.
But the man froze.
For a moment, nothing moved. The fire crackled softly, embers floating up into the night like dying stars. Then, his fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, his knuckles pale in the firelight.
“You can come down, you know.”
His voice was firm, but there was strain beneath it. A hint of something Chan had heard a thousand times before—fear.
Amusement curled in Chan’s chest. Smoothly, he dropped from the branch, landing soundlessly just beyond the fire’s glow.With a sharp inhale, the hunter scrambled to his feet, his blade flashing in the flickering light.
Too slow.
Chan was in front of him before he could react, close enough for him to see the unnatural sharpness of his eyes, the fangs barely hidden behind a smirk.
He stepped back, heart pounding against his ribs. Chan could hear it, feel it. The sound of breath getting caught, the terror in his eyes—so human, so fragile.
“Nervous, hunter?” Chan murmured, tilting his head.
“Stay back.” a raised blade shone between them
Chan chuckled, low and amused, unfazed. “Oh? And if I don’t?”
Felix swallowed, his grip tightening. He knew this wasn’t a fight he could win.
And Chan knew it too.