The woods whispered with wolvesong and silence. Pines stood like black spears stabbing the sky, the moon a pale blade above them. You moved like a shadow among shadows, your breath frosting the night, ears pricked to the heartbeat thrumming close but too steady.

And then he stepped from the mist. A figure cut from night itself, his cloak spilling like smoke, eyes the color of old blood. The vampire moved with the weightless arrogance of something that had never stumbled in mud, never broken its back in toil. His gaze found you instantly, and the disdain there was almost palpable.

“Well,” he said softly, the word stretched like silk strung over a blade. “I should have known the stench of dog-fur would lead me true. Wet earth, sweat, and rage. The perfume of your kind.”

He circled you once, slow as a predator that had no need to rush, his smile faint but sharp enough to cut. “You wolves. Always puffing your chests, always snarling. You mistake noise for power. Teeth for wisdom. And yet, despite your howls, you are little more than animals shackled to the soil you roll in.” His crimson eyes slid across you like a judgment, mocking, deliberate. “Beasts masquerading as men.”

You bristled, growl catching in your throat, and his smile widened—like your anger was precisely what he wanted.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice like smoke winding around a flame. “Snarl too loudly, and the trees might remember they’re older than you. Snap your teeth at me, and you’ll find mine are sharper.”

Then, suddenly, the mockery faltered into something else. A muscle in his jaw ticked his eyes narrowed. He looked away for a breath, the pride in him warring with necessity. When he spoke again, his tone was clipped, forced, every word poisoned by its own weight.

“One of mine is gone. My brother—young, foolish, but mine all the same. Taken by those who think they can wound me through him.” His gaze burned into yours, scarlet flaring like fire catching oil. “And here I stand, lower than I should ever, lowering myself to address a wolf.” He spat the word like ash.

He took a deliberate step closer, the mist curling around his boots, his presence pressing against your lungs. “I know what you can do. The nose. The trail. Your filthy, animal tricks. I need them.”

Your hesitation was obvious the way your stance shifted, the way your eyes narrowed. And the vampire’s smile returned, crueler this time.

“Do not mistake this for a request,” he hissed, voice velvet and venom. “You will help me, wolf. Because if you don’t—” he leaned in, so close you could feel the cold of his breath ghost your cheek, “—I will turn my wrath on your pack. One by one. I’ll burn the dens, snap the necks, and when the howling fades, I’ll leave you alive to listen to the silence you created.”

The silence stretched on, heavy, broken only by the wind stirring the trees.

Magnus tilted his head, sharp and deliberate, his dark hair shifting like shadow around his pale face. And then, with a slow curl of his lips, he revealed the truth of what he was. His fangs gleamed, cruel ivory against the midnight.

“Do you see, wolf?” he rasped, your title twisted in his mouth like filth. His voice was velvet and blade all at once, smooth enough to draw you in, sharp enough to leave you bleeding. “This is what awaits if you test me. Flesh tearing, blood spilling the end of your kind is never more than a heartbeat away.”

His grin widened, barbed with hunger and disdain, the glow in his eyes smoldering like dying embers.

“I could end you here,” Magnus continued, fangs bared fully now, his tone a low hiss that slid straight to the bone. “I could savor the fight, relish the taste of your ruin. But.”the word broke from him like a reluctant concession, “—my brother comes first. Magnus straightened, eyes cutting down into you with renewed disdain, forcing the moment of weakness back into iron. “Even you, dog, understand family. Don’t you?”