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Chapter Text

Once more, he found himself trapped in that all too familiar place, the modest living room of his childhood home. “Not again,” John whispered, clenching his eyes shut and releasing a heavy sigh. “Please, not here again.”

Desperately, he opened his eyes, praying he was somewhere else. But fate was unkind; he remained in the dimly illuminated living room, shadows looming, and light provided only by the flickering fireplace and a single window.

Drawn to the window to see the weather outside, John knew before even looking that a storm was raging on; it always was. Rain poured down in torrents while thunder boomed, drowning out all else. 

However, amidst the cacophony, John could discern the faint melody of a music box. The familiar melody stirred something within him, prompting him to leave the living room and seek out its source in the dim house. Reaching the staircase, he leaned on the railing and bent down to better hear the delicate melody. 

John slowly approached the flights of stairs, cautiously climbing one step at a time. When he reached the top of the stairs, he heard the melody again, turned towards the source and saw that it came from the long, dark corridor to his right, sometimes lit by flashes from the only two windows.

Chilled to his core, he made his way down the narrow hallway, his heart racing and breath heavy. As he advanced, both the volume of the melody and the pounding in his chest grew louder.

He hated this corridor, long and narrow, where it led to no room, only a small flight of stairs at its end, where it led to the attic of the house, the place John did not like to be. At least not forced 

Approaching this last staircase, John noticed the attic door slightly ajar; besides it lay on the floor a small mahogany music box. As its gears turned inside, John gently closed it, ending the melody. He looked at the small box with nostalgic eyes, adorned with his initials 'J.M.' etched into its surface, a gift created especially for him by his late Seanmhair.

As nostalgia consumed him, John heard a faint crying full of sorrow and apology coming from behind the door. Pressing his ear against, so he could hear that voice properly. A voice he knew all too well: 

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean it."

"Please don't come."

With a pang in his heart, hearing that familiar voice, John mustered courage as tremors ran through him. His stomach churned from anxiety, while an oppressive knot tightened in his throat. He knew what awaited him behind the door, knew what he would see. He knew.

Taking a deep breath, John carefully eased it open. The attic exactly as he recalled: bare, with no furniture to decorate the room, save for a small altar against the far wall. Upon it stood a statue of the Virgin Mary, surrounded by flowers and flickering candles that cast a soft glow. A round, stained-glass window like those in churches loomed behind the small altar. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement near the altar. Fear filled his veins as he faced the gut-wrenching sight before him: a young, scared version of himself, just a child, kneeling and praying through panicked sobs.

"Please, my Lord, I beg you: don't let him come in."

The little child trembled, his anguish evident in the tear-streaked face and swollen, red eyes. Blood dripped from the cut on his eyebrow down his face mixed with the tears that ran down his cheeks, a macabre sight that gave the impression that he was crying blood. 

The young child's petite frame was marred by numerous cuts, bruises, and dried blood that stained his once-white clothing.

"My Lord, please hear my humble prayer. I didn't mean to anger him, I—" His sobs were interrupted by the sound of footsteps ascending the staircase, and panic set in John. "No, no, please don't come!" 

A loud metallic clang resonated through the air as John sharply turned away.

“Joan”

A voice from the hallway called to him, causing him to shudder at the sound of that name.

“Joan”

“Joan”

It insisted, drawing even closer, accompanied by the relentless metal noise.

“No, don't come,” John muttered as he trembled with fear. In a desperate attempt to keep him out, he lunged for the door and locked it.

“Joan”

Whispered the voice right outside the door. John's breath hitched as he watched the brass handle jiggling violently up and down, someone was trying to enter. 

“Let me in, Joan”

“No, please go away!” A sense of dread coursed through John as the voice took on a sinister and repulsive tone.

“Come on, Joan” it hummed cruelly, feigning happiness.

“I promise I won't do anything to you.” He was lying, and John knew it all too well. His heart hammered wildly as the handle continued its frantic dance.

“𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯.”

“…”

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! YOU WORTHLESS SLUT. OPEN UP!”

The voice transformed into a snarl of fury and malevolence as the door shook under relentless pounding and it seemed the handle would never survive the onslaught. Panic engulfing him fully now.

“GO AWAY!”

John screamed with every ounce of strength left within him. To his surprise, the handle suddenly stopped shaking. He thought he was safe; that he had successfully warded off his attacker. But before he could relax, the sound of the lock snapping open sent a shiver down his spine. The door creaked as it began to open, revealing nothing but utter darkness. No one was there, yet the palpable sense of danger persisted.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure with red eyes lunged at John from the darkness. “You are mine now, my little Joan”

“NO STOP!” John fought back as best he could, but his strength began to fade, feeling disoriented and his vision blurred. Not again, he thought desperately, not the punishment.

“You want me to stop and let you leave?” Suspended for a heart-wrenching moment, John was unable to muster a response, his throat painfully dry, as though every last ounce of courage had abandoned him.

 "LET ME GO!”

“Oh, my sweet Joan, I'll never do that.” With an air of malicious glee, the figure loomed over John. Paralyzed with fear, he attempted to fight back by punching and kicking. But no matter how hard he tried, the figure held him down effortlessly, while his struggle only served to fuel the creature's cruel laughter. “I'll never let you go… Never.” 

“Please-Sob—no"

“no—sob—NOOOOOOOOOOO—"

Awakening with a terrified scream, John found himself panting and drenched in sweat, tears streaming down his face. He glanced around his bedroom, a wave of relief washing over him as he registered the familiar surroundings. The bedside clock read 5:33 a.m. He let out a heavy sigh and buried his face in an arm.

“Even in death, ye keep haunting me.”

Wiping away tears with the back of his hand, John still found no respite from the haunting memories that tormented his dreams. On days when he didn't dream at all, he considered himself lucky, but for when his once sweet dreams morphed into nightmares, those were the days he dreaded most. And today was one of them.

After showering, he surveyed his untidy room, '𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒,’ he thought to himself jokingly. With time to spare before his day truly began, John tidied up and donned his sweatpants, figuring that an early morning jog would be beneficial in clearing his thoughts.

John stepped out of his cozy house into the fresh winter air; a recent snowfall had left a pristine white blanket on the surrounding forest; John felt a sense of tranquility as he gazed upon the blanket of untouched snow blanketing the nearby forest. The muted sounds and softened colors brought peace to his weary heart.

He loved that time of year when everything was transformed by the freshly fallen snow: muffled sounds filled the air, colors softened, and shapes became soft and suave. Everything was quiet, as John liked it.

Living at his sweet Seanmhair's secluded cabin in the middle of the woods was the place John loved to be, away from the noise of the city, a perfect place for John who loves to be in the midst of nature. Everything was peaceful.

Absorbed in admiration for the winter landscape as he jogged for two hours straight, John temporarily escaped from his troubling thoughts. Glancing at his phone, he noticed it was now nearly 7:00 a.m. and decided to head back home. After a quick second shower to wash off the sweat on him, he had breakfast and set off towards his workplace, the local coffee shop where he held the morning shift duties.

Although he didn't own a car, John didn't mind trekking the twenty-minute walk to work, even when his motorcycle was rendered useless by thick layers of snow on the roads. He took his backpack and keys before closing the house and facing another day, hoping to leave behind the memories that haunted him in his dreams.

Chapter Text

*Ding* 

The small bell above the cafeteria door chimed, drawing Gaz's attention. "Hey, Soap! What brings your Scottish ass here so early?" Gaz greeted his best friend from behind the counter with a grin. 

John rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, as he replied, "Good morning to ye too, Gaz." He crossed the room to join his friend behind the counter. "As always, starting the day with such energy and attitude. Ah cannae explain how the fuck ye can be so cheerful so early in the morning, dinnae tell me ye'r the kind of person who eats cereal all colourful and full of sugar, with a cover of some unicorn?” 

“Nope, they're not fucking unicorns! But beautiful, fucking colorful bunnies, and they happen to be fucking delicious.” Their laughter filled the space like an inside joke. “You know it's my charming smile that keeps the customers coming,” Gaz quipped. Leaning against the counter, he added, “But seriously, why are you here? You're not on shift today.” 

Adjusting his apron, John confirmed, “Right, it's not mah day. But Alex called me last night to fill in for Horangi. Poor guy caught a cold. Plus, ye know, Rudy's away with his sweet husband for their honeymoon.” John playfully patted Gaz on the back, laughing at his friend's exaggerated shock. “ A'm feelin' sorry fur ye! Ye'll be stuck wi' me fur ferr a while.” 

“Oh no,” Gaz feigned despair. “God! What have I done to deserve this punishment? Being with my best friend all day? Why me?” 

John knew he was joking, but he played along as well, “Oh no, it breaks mah heart to know that mah only best friend doesn't want to be in mah presence dicking around at work all day. Och, pure nasty world.” John fell to the floor on his knees in a very dramatic way, pretending to cry. After a long moment of silence between the two, Gaz and John burst out laughing again. 

After laughing his head off, John headed toward the coffee station, " A'm needin' a good coffee to recharge mah batteries,” he said as he ground the coffee, he overheard the morning news discussing recent wolf sightings near Sherwood Forest. John didn't give it too much weight, only to stop as another piece of news caught his attention. 

“Gaz Turn that up!" John said urgently. They stared at the television in disbelief as they heard

» 𝙇𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙤𝙛 20-𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧-𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙖 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙨, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙖𝙜𝙤. 𝘼 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙇𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙭𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙨: 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 18 𝙖𝙣𝙙 25 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝘽𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨.

𝙀𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙞𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙. 𝘼𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙚, 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙨, 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙜𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙖-𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙨. 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙖 𝙘𝙞𝙧𝙘𝙡𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙢 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙢 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙢.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙩. 𝙒𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙆 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙚.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙖𝙨 '𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙎𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙥'. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙜𝙤.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙪𝙧𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙯𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙇𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙭𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙣 𝙜𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙛𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚.

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙞𝙩, 𝙬𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙥𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙥𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙗𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙚, 𝙬𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡-𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜. «

As the announcement concluded, Gaz and John exchanged a horrified glance. “My God, that can't be…” stammered Gaz, his voice barely a whisper due to the overwhelming shock. 

“Our city? The place we call home?” questioned John, looking at Gaz for confirmation. As Gaz nodded solemnly, John continued, “So, aye, our fucking town, probably the home of a fucking satanic cult that goes around performing rituals on people, killing them and then raping them”. He slumped onto a stool beside Gaz, his shoulders sagging heavily under the weight of the news. 

Noticing his friend's concern, he asked timidly, “What's troubling ye, Gaz?” 

“The victims, Soap. Their descriptions…” Gaz paused, not having the strength to speak. 

John furrowed his brow, clearly not catching onto Gaz's apprehension. Taking a deep breath, Gaz placed his hands on John's shoulders to emphasize his point. “Listen closely Soap, all those poor victims shared striking similarities: they were aged between 18 and 25 with Brunette hair and blue eyes. Does that ring any bells?” 

John laughed nervously at first, but quickly quieted down upon seeing the seriousness etched in Gaz's face. “Come on now, Gaz, dinnae scare me like this,” he said hesitantly. 

“For crying out loud, Soap! Think about it,” insisted Gaz with unwavering eye contact. The dawning realization washed over John as his face paled.

“Oh, Steam Jesus,” he whispered.

Gaz echoed his sentiment with a hollow “Yes. Oh, Steam Jesus” 

“But Gaz, not everyone knows that I am… Well, you know. I've only told people I really trust and consider them as family to me” John said, trying to ease his friend's concern. 

“I know Soap, I know. But I'm always worried about you, you may not have blurted it out to the seven winds, but in life not everything goes as smoothly as one wishes.” 

The two remained silent until the chime of the doorbell snapped them back into reality as a customer stepped in. With forced smiles plastered onto their faces, they took their positions behind the counter like true professionals.  

John didn't see the look of concern Gaz had toward him, not that he could worry since he now not only didn't want to remember the nightmare he'd had, and now had to be careful not to become the sixth victim of this fucking satanic group.

Time seemed to pass quickly, and soon it was past 6:00 p.m. As John swept the floor, he paused to gaze out the store window in the direction of his cabin nestled in the woods. The sight provided some comfort, but not enough to relieve him entirely. He sighed and said to Gaz, “Ye know, ah cannae hulp but feel like a'm cursed, attracting only bad luck and misfortune into mah life.” 

Gaz smirked as he wiped a glass with a cloth. “I've got to admit, I'm starting to think so, too. And that's coming from someone who doesn't believe in curses or magic. If they exist, why not ask for riches?” He looked at himself thoughtfully before adding, “I mean, I already have dashing good looks, an irresistible smile, and an attractive body, and the only thing I lack is fucking money.”

Gaz set his glass down on the table and stormed over to the open back door where he shouted boldly, “IF THERE'S ANY SUPERNATURAL ENTITY OUT THERE LISTENING, WITCH OR DEMON, PLEASE MAKE ME FUCKING RICH, THANK YOU!”

Upon turning around, Gaz saw John stifling laughter before finally bursting into full-blown giggles. “Oh, fuck. Gaz” John said between laughs, “Well, Ah dinnae think yer shouting summoned any otherworldly creatures, but it certainly caught the attention of that elderly lady across the street” John laughs until he and Gaz hear the old woman shout.

“I AM NOT A WITCH! BUT IF YOU ASK ME NICELY, MIGHT BECOME ONE, SWEETIEEE~”

John and Gaz look at each other and burst out laughing, re-entering the cafeteria again.

Chapter Text

As the days passed and nothing changed. The nightmares were not frequent, but he had been having them more often recently than he had ever had them in recent years. Nor did it make it easy for Gaz, who insisted that John sleep at his house for safety. It was close to the store and offered the added protection until the satanic set was apprehended.

He hesitated at first, not wanting to impose on his friend's generosity, but John agreed without being able to protest, because he knew that his best friend would have nagged him all day. Yet, after one month, John decided it was time to head back to his cabin.

“Soap, you really don't bother me, man” Gaz tried to persuade him to stay longer.

“Gaz, we've already talked aboot it, it's almost a month now, Ah think they're gone, since the city haes become a polis den by now.” John pointed to the window of the store, showing some figures of policemen passing by. The police had put many policemen in the field, and then a few days ago the Expert Team also came, which improved the situation, explaining and organizing each police patrol, making them almost efficient.

There were no more victims, or missing persons, and that was good, but the satanic cult had not yet been found, and that was bad.

“Fine,” Gaz grumbled while arranging coffee packages in the storeroom, “But don't you dare come and haunt me as a ghost while being murdered by a fucking satanic cult. Understood?” He glanced at John that had a smirk on his face. “Weren't ye the one wha said ye dinae believe in the supernatural?” John joked about the matter, And Gaz threw a rag in his face, “Shut up, asshole.”

John merely chuckled and continued sweeping the floor, grateful for his friend's support and hoping that their banter had ended his string of bad luck, if only for a while. 

*Ding* 

The doorbell chimes and startles John and Gaz as a customer walks in. “Odd, a customer this late?” John questions Gaz, who had been standing outside. “Did ye put up the 'closed' sign?”

Gaz raises his hands apologetically, with a sheepish grin, “Sorry, my bad. I totally forgot.”

John shakes his head disapprovingly at Gaz and says, “Nice try, but that smile isn't going to work oan me. Ah will accept yer apology next time, if ye offer me a Cranachan. Deal?”

“Deal! But go now, the sooner you serve, the sooner we leave.”

“I’ll be a flash!” He then strides out of the warehouse toward the counter to attend the customer, hoping that it is only one customer.

“Good evening! How can I assist yo—ugh”

“HEY, SOAP!” The customer exclaims cheerfully.  

John groans internally as he recognizes the voice before even seeing the face. 'Oh God, no, he's back again,' he thinks.

“Hello Graves. What do you want to drink?” John struggles to mask his irritation.

“A simple hello? I thought my favourite bartender would give me a warmer welcome,” Graves teases with a wink. John merely rolls his eyes, pretending to clean glasses and rearrange items on the counter.

“What were you expecting? streamers, confetti, and a cake that says, welcome back?”

Graves smirks, “Something like that. A nice place, music in the background and a nice candlelit dinner, but only between you and me, of course.” Graves looks from head to toe at John's body, without hiding it.

'No, thanks. Ah don’t want to suffer from bad indigestion, seeing yer ugly face while eating.’ Thinks John, suppresses an annoyed sigh at Graves' obnoxious antics.

“Sadly, for you, but these things are not for me.” he continues sarcastically while stacking chairs onto tables, hinting at their closing time and trying to indicate Graves' unwelcome presence, “those things are more Gaz's area of expertise than mine.”

“Really? I thought someone as cheerful and sunny as you would be into planning such events. Shame. I was looking forward to your welcome, during this month abroad. Well, it will be for next time,” He laughs playfully with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

'Please dinnae ever come back next time, thank you!' John begs in his thoughts. 

But Graves sobers up and leans over the counter, closing the distance with John who instinctively steps back. “But speaking of serious things, have you given any consideration to my invitation for dinner? What do you say, Johnny?”

The sudden darkness in Graves' eyes looked like an animal for a moment, causing all the hairs on John's neck to straighten, sends shivers down John's spine. He replies firmly, “Firstly, address me as John. And a second thing, Graves I've already told you, and I'll tell you over and over again, but my answer is a flat-out 𝐍𝐨! I'm not interested in the dating life.” Said John seriously, watching Graves' face reddens with rage.

“Mark my words, I will change your mind,” he snarls. “You won't find anyone better than me, got it?”

Just as John is about to retort, Gaz steps out from the storeroom and hastily escorts Graves to the exit under the pre-emptive excuse that they're closing up. Gaz's intervention saves John from losing his temper and lashing out at Graves in anger.

As Gaz shut the door firmly behind him, he did not hear the faint whisper of Graves' voice, “One of these days you'll be 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆, John. And if it takes force to make you see it, so be it.”

John, tossing the keys to Gaz, “I just can't believe that guy's part of the police force. Bloody Yankee.”

Gaz sighed in agreement, rubbing his face in exasperation. “It's shocking that they promoted him to deputy inspector. If I'd known how low their standards were, I'd have joined the force or even the military myself.”

John scoffed and replied, “Ahhh, dinnae talk to me about it. At 22 years old, Ah would have become the youngest to become a sergeant by now.” He let out a bitter chuckle to release some of his frustration before continuing, “But God, cannae he take 'no' fur an answer? Ye can tell he grew up oan the laurels of a rich family that gave him everything in life.”

Reflecting on Graves's past behaviour, Gaz asked John, “Hey man, remember when Graves was chasing after Rudy?”

John grinned at the memory and replied, “Aye! He'd ask him out constantly, but Rudy wasn't an easy target like he thought.” Fighting back laughter, he added, “And who can forget when he shocked him with an engagement ring on his finger?”

A wide smile spread across Gaz's face. “That was priceless; watching him open and close his mouth in utter disbelief, like a goldfish on dry land. He eventually stormed out after declaring he wasn't worth his time anyway.” Gaz and John shared a laugh as they recalled how Alejandro had then flashed his middle finger, adorned with Rudy's engagement ring, towards a retreating Graves.

“Aye, we had a lot of fun that day,” John recalls, a smile spreading across his face. “Remember when Rudy calmed Alejandro down, even though Alejandro kept giving him the middle finger and yelling insults in Spanish? Not to mention yer brilliant idea to film everything with a camera hidden behind the coffee bags. God, what I'd give to see that boiled fish face expression on his face again”

As John spoke, he stowed his apron in his locker and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Gaz's eyes gleamed with mischief as he replied, “You know, there is a way.” His comment piqued John's interest as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.  

“Aye, really? And what would that be?” questioned John with a hint of amusement.

Gaz's said softly, with a touch of melancholy. “By finding someone.”

“Gaz, we've been over this. I'm not interested in dating,” John sighed wearily.

Gaz tried to lighten the mood by joking, “You know I only want the best for you. I just don't want my best friend to be alone and miserable while I'm off having a great time with all my wealth when I strike it rich.”

“Come on, Gaz. The odds of you getting rich are about as likely as me finding a boyfriend who loves me and wants to live with me forever. That is, zero.” John retorted playfully, while Gaz couldn't conceal his shock at the realization.

“Shit. You're fucking right.” Gaz conceded with an acknowledging smile.

“As always.” John replied to him, closing the back of the shop.

“Seriously, though, are you sure you'll be okay walking home by yourself? I keep thinking about that satanic cult on the loose,” Gaz said, genuine concern in his eyes as he placed a hand on John's shoulder.

“Aye Gaz, I'm good,” John quipped light heartedly while playfully receiving a punch on his arm from Gaz who feigned anger. “Just call me when you get home, okay?” Gaz asked sincerely as he stepped away from John.

“What are you, mah mom, fussing over me?” John jested with a grin, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Nah, not a mom, more like a mother hen!” Gaz replied with a warm smile before they waved goodbye and set off on their separate paths.

As John began his walk, he thought to himself, ‘OK, it's only a 20-minute walk, what could possibly happen?’

Little did he know that his life was about to change dramatically.

Chapter Text

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝟸𝟽/0𝟹/𝟸0**

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎: 𝟸0:𝟷𝟺

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚁𝚘𝚊𝚍

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗: 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚡𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗

Driiin* 

Driiin* 

The sound of a ringing phone distracts the driver behind the wheel. Looking at the caller ID, a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He quickly maneuverer the car to park it in a secluded spot.

“Hello” says the driver in a formal tone.

«Has our Father's entire flock been located?» inquired the mysterious voice on the other end.

“My men found them all, none excluded. They were relieved to know that our Father had returned.” The driver confirmed confidently.

«And the person our Father is looking for?» asked the mysterious voice expectantly.

“We haven't found it yet.” He explained, but before the mysterious voice could reply, he added “But tell our Father that my men found another one.”

«You have more time, but don't get careless.» A sudden chill emanated from the voice as it delivered a warning. «There's a group attempting to thwart our operations, they mustn't slow you down or hinder your progress.»

Unfazed, the driver responded assertively, “they won't be a problem. As we speak, my men are already dealing with one of them.”

«Good. Our Father trusts you, don't let him down.» The voice concluded icily. «Remember the consequences if you fail.»

The call ended abruptly, leaving an ominous silence that lingered in the air.

Chapter Text

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝟸𝟽/0𝟹/𝟸0**

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎: 𝚄𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗: 𝙶𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚐𝚘𝚠, 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚡𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗

“WHERE IS THAT FUCKING DOG?!”

The sound of breaking branches and the sound of heavy breathing echo in the middle of an isolated forest, covered by a layer of snow.

“He's there, sir!”

“FIRE!”

From afar, the sound of gunfire and men's shouts fills the emptiness of the forest. A nearby radio crackles to life, amplifying the chaotic cacophony.

[Sir! We urgently need backup!] The voice on the other end gasps for air.

[Roger! Keep the dog at bay until we arrive!]

The radio continued to work as the sound of gunfire and men shouting got louder and louder

[Sir, we have a serious problem!] Terror evident in the speaker's voice.

[What's wrong?]

[The intel was wrong! I repeat, our intel was wrong!] Panic creeps into their words.

[What do you mean wrong? Explain yourself!]

[Our target is not a… W-WAIT! NO! STOP! DON'T GET CLOSER!] Muffled gunfire and unearthly screams are barely discernible through the radio static, alongside the horrifying sounds of bone being crushed.

[NOOOO-AHHHHHHH!] The chilling cry is abruptly cut off, leaving only dead silence on the radio line.

[TEAM 1, HOW COPY?]

[ _____________________ ]

[REPEAT, TEAM 1, HOW COPY?]

[ _____________________ ]

“FUCK!”

Hours later, shadowy figures garbed in black arrive at the grisly scene. Within the eerily quiet forest, vibrant red clashed against the pristine white snow, the scent of blood detectable even from a distance. The overpowering, putrid odour of urine and death emanating from the lifeless bodies caused some black clad men to vomit even their very souls.

The horrifying sight was no less gruesome. Scattered across the snow were bits of organs, intestines, and shattered livers, torn from the dismembered corpses strewn throughout the wooded area.

Many of the cadavers bore evidence of extensive gashes on their flesh, marks that also marred nearby tree trunks. Some were crushed against these trees, their blood painting the bark in vivid crimson. Several decapitated bodies were discovered missing whole limbs, and from the visible wounds, it was clear that they had been viciously bitten off.

For those still possessing intact heads devoid of claw or bite marks, terror was etched into their very countenances

The forest had transformed into a slaughterhouse, where the hunters became prey to a creature far more brutal than they could have imagined, a Monster in the true sense of the word. Leaving behind him only a trail of death, creating a macabre scenario, which only death itself could say Beautiful, appreciating the beauty concealed in it in the form of death.

“Have you found him?” One figure in black inquires tersely.

“Not yet, sir.” Replies the other figure in black, adding, “But he won't have gone very far with those wounds, he lost a lot of blood, sir. Before that dog decimated some of our people, we managed to catch him off guard in our trap, so he won't be able to use his regeneration abilities for quite a while, sir.”

“Excellent,” replied the first man with satisfaction. “Now we must move immediately. I've just been informed that one of our brothers accidentally disturbed a wind spirit while searching for that fucking dog, and now it's absolutely furious, unleashing a snowstorm. We could use this situation to our advantage; if that dog doesn’t bleed to death, hypothermia will finish him off. Inform the others to retreat at once, before we end up trapped in this frozen hell.”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, the two mysterious figures depart from the scene. Little do they know that a snowy-white figure with amber eyes is watching them from the hollow of a nearby tree, concealing his presence. Once it is certain they are gone, it emerges with a wince and a limp, its wounds covering its body and staining its white mantle red as blood pours out.

'I—' HUFF-HUFF '—have to… get out of here—' HUFF '—and—' HUFF —warn Price’

A growl of pain came out of his mouth as he walked into the thick woods, disappearing into the enveloping darkness of the woods.

Chapter Text

“Fuck! Why did this blasted storm have to hit now? The weatherman said it was coming tomorrow! Fucking weathermen and their fucking weather with their fucking forecasts.”

John grumbled as he navigated through the thick woods, following the path to his cabin. Recent heavy snowfall made travel difficult, preventing him from using his motorcycle. The extreme cold had even caused his engine to freeze, rendering the vehicle useless.

“Ah must be cursed, there's na other explanation,” John muttered.

As he ventured deeper into the dark forest, a sudden bone-chilling shiver raced down his spine, giving him goosebumps. Behind him, the snap of a breaking branch sounded. He spun around, searching for the cause, but only encountered the impenetrable shadows of the woods.

“Ah must have imagined it,” he told himself with a nervous chuckle.

Despite trying to mask his fear-induced trembling as mere shivers from the cold, he couldn't help but quicken his pace. He did not worry if he arrived home short of breath and sweating. The eerie sensation of being watched did little to calm John's nerves, and walking quickly through layers of fresh snow became increasingly difficult. Cursing under his breath each time he stumbled on hidden obstacles beneath the snow, he noted that the storm had subsided, and now only gentle snowflakes fell.

“Thank God Alex gave us a couple of weeks off. I'll just stay indoors and rest,” he decided. As John contemplated his plans for his time off, a fleeting shadow caught his eye. He halted abruptly, frozen by fear.

“Who's there?” he asked, unable to conceal just how much he was trembling. “Ah said, who's there!”

John heard no answer, only the pounding sound of John's heart racing and his heavy breathing filled the tense silence.

Finally, after a long silence, a figure leaped out from behind a nearby bush, revealing the mysterious presence that had terrorized John. Before he could even scream out in fright, he immediately recognized the figure, a doe and her young fawn. Relieved, John exhaled deeply, realizing that it was not some ferocious animal.

The doe approached him trustingly and let John to stroke her. The initially hesitant fawn followed its mother's gesture and came closer as well.

"Are ye hungry? Is that why ye came out in this terrible weather?" Even as a child, John could perfectly understand what the animals wanted from him, he didn't know how he managed it, but John didn't care, if he could help them whenever he could.

Always help those in need. His Seanmhair's lessons echoed in his mind.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Since his Seanmhair had taken him under her wing, she taught him many things, how to live humbly and how to prepare ointments, salves and natural medicines using only what the earth provided. Many people regarded her a weirdo, but John didn't mind her weirdness; it was what made her herself. While they gathered herbs together one day, his Seanmhair shared some wisdom.

“What sets us apart from others, makes us unique and defines our identity,” she said with a smile to John, who had paused to stroke her cat.

“So never let others' opinions sway you. If you don't fit their definition of 'normal,' it just means you don't match their views."

"But remember,” she continued as John listened intently. “The only thing that truly matters, my dear Johnny, is…” Tenderly placing a finger on John's heart, she added “Is your own opinion. Your aspirations, thoughts and desires shape who you are."

"Don't ever forget that.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

'I'll always cherish these words, Seanmhair,' he mused with a grin. Her teachings were like beacons guiding him through any storm. Just like this.

“All right,” John said, shifting his gaze to the doe and fawn. “Haud oan a moment; a've got some fruit and sandwiches in mah backpack.”

He rummaged through the bag and retrieved containers holding two apples, wild berries, and a large sandwich cut in half. He placed them on the ground for the animals to eat, and after they had finished, the doe approached John and lowered her head in Thanksgiving. 

“Ye're welcome. Now hurry before another storm approaches.” As if comprehending his words, the doe led her fawn away from John. Just before disappearing into the forest's shadows with her offspring, she paused to exchange one last look.

Thank you.

The doe turned and walked away and disappeared into the darkness of the forest along with her fawn. John blinked, he thought he heard a soft feminine voice whisper in his mind but quickly dismissed it as fatigue induced imagination, given he was alone with the creatures.

“Must be exhaustion playing tricks oan me,” he mumbled.

“Once I get home, I'll take a hot bath and head straight to bed.” With the backpack slung over his shoulder, John pressed on and spotted his house's silhouette after roughly ten minutes. “Home at last! I'd better contact Gaz and let him know I've arrived.”

As John reached for his cell phone to call his friend, he failed to notice the mound of snow in his path. Caught off guard, he stumbled and fell face first into it.

“What the fuck?!” Startled, John spun around to identify the cause of his misstep. A chill ran down his spine as he realized that the once-pristine snow was now stained red. He noticed movement within the snowy mass and, without hesitation, raced forward to dig through it with his bare hands. He went fast without ever stopping, not even when he could no longer feel the finger because of the cold. He stopped only when he could see where all that blood came from.

“A dog?” John said, astonished as he beheld the canine figure lying before him, covered in wounds and blood. He winced as the dog lunged forward and bit his wrist. Screamed in pain but did not pull away; he knew the dog was frightened and was only trying to protect himself.

“H-Hey there, big boy. It's alright. Ah dinnae want to hurt ye.” The dog continued to bite down harder, snarling ferociously, but John remained steady. He spoke softly, comforting it with gentle assurances that it was safe in his presence.

Eventually, the dog released its grip on John’s, perhaps because he had realized that he was not a danger or perhaps because he was tired, but John was fine with it anyway; he could no longer keep calm with the feeling of sharp teeth tearing at his skin.

being careful not to startle the animal further, John extended a hand above its head to pet it hesitantly. As if sensing kindness in him, the dog leaned into his touch before collapsing onto the ground out of fatigue and blood loss.

“Alright, big boy,” John said compassionately, “Ye're coming home with me. I'm not the type to abandon those in need, even if they bite me.” He picked up his backpack and phone that had tumbled from his grasp earlier and immediately sent off a message to Gaz.

𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗛𝗘𝗬, 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗻! 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱

𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘇𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝘀 😉💥🤜💥❄️💥🍑💥🧼💥🐕  

After sending the message to Gaz, John picked up the wolf as gently as he could so as not to damage and open wounds further; he was longer than his entire arm, immensely heavier than he initially thought, but this did not deter John, who carried him straight to his home.

“So much for resting,” he mumbled humorously “Fucking hell if it hurts” through clenched teeth with the pain in his wrist as they entered his home.

He carefully placed the dog on the floor near the fireplace and set about collecting firewood before igniting a warm blaze. Next, John hurried to gather a basin of hot water, towels, and bandages. With these items in place beside the wounded dog, John went into his studio.

In addition to his usual art supplies, he meticulously prepared various medicinal ingredients and ointments that would aid in the dog's healing process. Once ready, he returned to the living room to begin nursing the dog.

“Alright, big boy, stay still.” The dog remained motionless, possibly due to exhaustion. Seizing the moment, John grabbed a towel, soaked it in water, and gently wiped the dog's dirty fur and wounds. He was amazed to notice the true colour of the fur.

“Wow. Big boy, ye're entirely white? Ah hadn't noticed with all that blood and dirt. Don't worry; I'll get you cleaned up and treat yer wounds. Or I won't be called John anymore,” he chuckled. As he continued to care for the dog's injuries, John engaged in light conversation to ease the quiet atmosphere.

“What's this?” He paused over a peculiar-looking injury. Unlike the other deep gashes, this wound resembled a hole. As John wiped it clean, something silver shone within the bloody mess. Getting up, John rummaged through a drawer at his bedside.

He didn't worry about getting blood on it, he would clean it up later, he found a box with pliers and quickly sterilized them in hot water before returning to examine the wound. The dog stirred slightly as John extracted a metallic object from within its flesh.

“Weeping bloody Jesus!” exclaimed John in disbelief, “Is this… a fucking bullet? Who would shoot such a beautiful dog? They must be fucking insane.”

John blinked rapidly when his vision became blurry, “Huh? Why the fuck are ye crying? You’re not the one who got shot. Get a fucking grip oan yourself, JOHN!” Suppressing sobs, he wiped his face but slapped his cheeks when tears persisted.

With newfound determination and unintentionally smeared with the dog's blood, John didn’t care, he was going to clean himself up later, now the priority was the dog.

Once all injuries were tended to, John prepared bandages soaked in an herbal concoction designed to prevent infection. Carefully wrapping each wound, he noticed another glint near the dog's neck.

“Not another one, God please.” Hoping it was not another bullet, he reached out his hand and what he touched was not a bullet, but a military dog tag with a name engraved on it.

“Ghost?” As soon as John said that name, the dog's ears twitched. “Oh? So, yer name is Ghost? Is it because ye're white as a ghost?” He laughed at his own joke. “Well, let me introduce myself. A'm John Mactavish, but mah friends call me John. Nice tae meet ye.” With a smile, John took his paw in his hands and made a small gesture of greeting, but immediately winced when he felt the pain in his wrist.

“Ok, Ghost, we're all done here.” After tending to his wound, too, John busied himself cleaning everything from the dog's blood in the room and putting everything back in order.

Exhausted from the ordeal, John headed straight to his room, intent on washing away the traces of blood and changing his stained clothes. He discarded them carelessly in a corner before gathering several pillows and blankets. Moving to the living room, he tenderly placed a pillow beneath the injured dog and draped a blanket over its resting form.

With a reassuring smile, John murmured softly, “Don't worry, Ghost. I'll stay with ye all night, so ye dinnae wake up in an unfamiliar and alone place. Ah know how that feels.”

Settling onto the sofa, John hugged a pillow close and pulled a blanket over himself. As he began to drift off into peaceful slumber, his mobile phone vibrated on the nearby side table, jolting him back into wakefulness. He picked up the phone and saw a message from Gaz.

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗞𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱!
< 𝗜 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝘂𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀 🤧

John winces a little thinking, 'Not a wolf, but a dog.'

𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗦𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗮𝗹. 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻
𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴
𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝗠𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗛𝗲𝗻! 🤜💥🏴💥🔥💥🐓💥🥚

The thought of changing Gaz's contact name on his mobile phone to Mother Hen made him laugh, but decided to keep it as it was.

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗜 𝗱𝗼 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗛𝗲𝗻 𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴!
< 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝘂𝗱𝗲…

𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵? 😊

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗪𝗲'𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀; 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸

𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻? 🤨🤔

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴
< 𝗦𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗹𝘆! 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗷𝗶?🤦🏾‍♂️

𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

💬

𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗚𝗼 🤬🖕

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗢𝗛! 𝗜 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲!

With that exchange behind him and the dog resting beside him, that night John slept soundly, and no nightmares haunted him, dreaming blissfully.

Chapter Text

From the moment John closed his eyes, reclining on the sofa, he was aware that he was dreaming. When he opened them and found himself in a field of flowers, bathed in a glow emanating from the white carnations surrounding him, their soft glow illuminating the entire area despite the late night.

Overcome with awe, John felt both a sense of nostalgia and tranquillity wash over him. It was as if this beautiful haven was both alien to him and familiar at the same time.

Lost in thought, John's attention was suddenly captured by a faint melody, coming not far from him.

“Is… someone singing?”

He murmured to himself; curiosity piqued as he followed the sound. He only stopped when he saw that among the immense white carnations there was only one tree, a solitary oak tree, rising among them.

John still had that feeling of nostalgia, that he had been here before. But he had never been here, that much he was sure of. John thought about it for a long time, but the singing once again caught his attention. He looked up and saw, underneath the oak tree, the figure of a woman wearing a long white cloak, a hood concealing her face.

The woman intertwined flowers while singing serenely. Although John could not remember ever meeting her in his life, he felt that deep down he knew her somehow. Before John could speak up, the woman's voice cut through his thoughts.

“You know, this place has always given me a sense of peace,” said softly.

Her voice was low and soft, John swore he had heard her somewhere before. 'But where?' he asked himself thoughtfully.

He hesitated for a moment, a little unsure of what to say, before asking, shyly, “Um… where are we?”

The woman looked at him silently for several moments before focusing back on her intertwined. “This place has no name, so call it what you like, no one will stop you,” she replied with a warm smile.

John looked at her, and before he could think about what to say to her, a name came out of his mouth.

“𝙀𝙞̈𝙣𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙝𝙞𝙣”

John blinked a little, confused as to why he had said that mysterious word. Then the woman smiled fondly at him and said, “Hmm, you know… I think it's a very fitting name for this place.”

She gazed upon the sea of flowers surrounding them and sighed deeply as she repeated the name

“𝙀𝙞̈𝙣𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙝𝙞𝙣” Breathing out each syllable with care and appreciation. And then a strong gust of wind blew some petals towards them, flying around the two of them.

“Wow, what's going on?” Said John, turning his head, amazed at the scene of petals flying around him as if they were dancing.

“Do you know what that means?” the woman asked curiously, her eyes locked on his.

“I don't know,” John confessed, lowering his gaze while nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “It just felt… right?”

“Hmm, I see,” the woman mused thoughtfully. She then whispered something John didn't understand, “It's still early, then.”

"What? Sorry I didn't understand what you said," John admitted, puzzled.

The woman just smiled and gestured for him to sit beside her. “Come and sit with me; my neck hurts from looking down at you.” She said, seeing John nodding and sitting down next to her.

They sat in silence for quite some time, the woman continued to intertwine a garland of flowers, and John noticed only then that the flowers were not white carnations. These were smaller, a beautiful bright blue colour with a yellow centre. John's attention was captivated by their beauty, so much so, that he hadn't even realized the woman had paused her work to watch him.

“Do you like them?” she asked, gently lifting the garland for John to examine more closely.

Taken off guard, he flushed with embarrassment before admitting, “Huh? Oh! Yes, they are truly beautiful. But what kind of flowers are they?”

She thought for a moment before answering, “They're called myosotis.”

“Myosotis? What a strange name they have,” John replied, reaching out to accept the garland from her.

The woman's smile radiated warmth as she said, “There's another name for them too, would you like to know?”

Eager to learn more, John nodded enthusiastically.

“Forget-me-nots,” she revealed, observing his intrigued expression, and added “This flower represents fidelity, memory and everlasting love”

Curiosity piqued; John hesitantly asked another question. “Why… are they called that?”

The woman explained, “because of the legend attached to it”

“A legend? Oh! Please tell me! What does it tell?” The woman remained silent for a few seconds, smiling as she looked at John's shining face.

“The legend tells the story of two lovers who stumbled upon these delicate blue flowers by a riverbank. To present one as a token his eternal devotion and love, the young man attempted to pluck a single bloom but fell into the rushing waters instead. As he was swept away with no hope of return, he desperately cried out to his beloved, Forget-me-not. And from that day on, the flower was named after him.”

“That's… such a sad story,” John sighed as he wiped a tear about to fall from her face The woman nodded in agreement.

“Not all stories have happy endings.”

Desiring reprieve from sorrowful thoughts, John changed the subject “What about white carnations?”

The woman understood why he decided to change the subject, accepting his choice and explaining that white carnations symbolized loyalty and bond to someone or something.

“It is an unmistakable symbol of a strong and unassailable bond. An indestructible bond, one that even time cannot sever.”

His interest piqued once more, John asked, “You seem quite knowledgeable about flowers. Are you perhaps an herbalist?”

She smiled enigmatically before responding, “Some sort.” And added, “the Plants are just a foundation on what I do.”

“Wow, it's like hearing mah Seanmhair speak. With the story about plants being the foundation of everything that can be created.” John concluded, pausing for a moment as he gazed up at the night sky, reminiscent of his dearly Seanmhair. By now, it had become his habit, seeking solace from the stars whenever her memory resurfaced.

“Hmm” The woman hummed, smiled warmly, “Your grandma must have been truly wise. You must be so proud to be her grandson, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely!” John agreed with a vigorous nod. “To me, she was much more than just mah Seanmhair. She was mah best friend, a mother and mentor, someone I deeply admired growing up. She'll forever hold a special place in mah heart,” John rejoiced as he rose to his feet.

“I am incredibly fortunate to have been her grandson!” he exclaimed before playfully hopping around.

The woman's laughter echoed through the air. “I can totally see that you are,” she managed between chuckles.

Feeling slightly embarrassed by his childish display, John faked offence and pouted, attempting to conceal his amused smile.

“OK, let's stop talking about me now, tell me a little about you. Can I ask you a question?” John said politely as the woman nodded for him to continue. “Why were ye standing here all by yourself?” He couldn't help but inquire out of curiosity.

“I'm… waiting,” came her vague reply. Although he couldn't see her face, John could sense the sorrow in her voice and decided not to pry further.

“So… Do you only know about flowers? Or are there other topics that interest ye? I'd love to learn more,” John said playfully, diffusing the sombre atmosphere around them. The woman seemed grateful for his tactful change of subject.

“I know many things,” she answered confidently, placing a hand on her chest. “But be warned, I'm a very strict teacher. I won't stop even if you start whining and calling mummy” she teased with a mischievous glint in her eyes. John accepted the challenge eagerly, without a shred of hesitation.

“Bring it on! I'm always up for a challenge,” he said as he straightened up and settled down in front of her, ready to absorb new knowledge.

“Good, I've always admired those who share my passion for learning,” she responded approvingly.

Time seemed to fly by as the two delved into various topics, each of them sharing their thoughts and asking questions. 'It's like talking to Seanmhair again,' John mused. Gradually, he started trying to chase away the sleep that was assailing him rubbing his eyes, struggling to keep sleep that was assailing him.

Noticing his drowsiness, the woman stopped speaking and gently said, “Well, I think it's time for you to go.” She stood up gracefully, dusting off petals from her dress before gazing wistfully at him. John realized that despite standing alongside the woman, he was gradually drifting away from her.

“W-What's happening? W-Wait, I can't—” John struggled to stand, but his legs felt heavy, and fatigue overwhelmed him.

“I am happy to have finally met you, John. I promise, our paths will cross again soon,” she assured him.

“NO, PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS. WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I KNOW YOU? AND HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?” John's voice trembled with urgency. He tried frantically to rise, but exhaustion consumed him. Rubbing his eyes to clear the mist that clouded his vision, Soap was surprised to find tears streaming down his face.

“In time, everything will be revealed, John. But for now, you must go. After all, didn't you say yourself that you didn't want him to wake up alone?” She offered a genuine smile as an invisible force pulled John away.  

“Him? Who are you talking about?” he asked, confused.

As consciousness began to slip away from him, he noticed a familiar pendant on the woman's chest, 'Where did I see it?' John asked himself, and saw that the woman was moving her lips, but he could hardly hear anything, as if her voice had become only a thin sound.

“The wheel of fate has begun to turn again, now that He is about to return.”

“Full of pitfalls and sufferings is the path thou shalt tread, but fear not, for thou shalt not be alone.”

“Now that you have found your fated mate, he will protect you from the Evil One who was damned.”

“No one will harm you any more, now that you have found one who knows how to love you.”

As John struggled to understand her words, and when he blinked the mysterious woman disappeared beneath the tree, leaving in its place cascades of petals that were falling to the ground.

'Fated… Mate?'

And with this last thought, John closed his eyes. Overwhelmed with a mixture of happiness and melancholic, and he did not know why, tears continued flowing down John's cheeks as he drifted back into slumber again with the feeling that he would see her again.

Chapter Text

Soap

John awoke to the gentle crackling of the fire and the creaking wood in his fireplace, paired with a soft snoring sound nearby. Even though it was still early, as he could tell from the clock above the fireplace that read 5:00 am, he struggled to drift back to sleep. Battling between wakefulness and slumber, John tried to recall the odd dream he had experienced. But then he opened his eyes wide in panic as he realised that only he should be in his home.

So, 'who the fuck snoring in my house?' he asked himself as he jumped up to see who was snoring in his living room next to him.

But he stopped when he noticed the white furry coat bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace, sleeping peacefully. His panic subsided when he remembered what had happened the night before. How he was on his way home in a blizzard that seemed never-ending, how he had kissed mother earth when he fell face down. How he had found under layers and layers of snow a poor, almost dying dog covered in his own blood, not to mention the night he had spent cleaning and medicating it.

“God, what a night,” John sighed, feeling exhausted as he thought about everything, he had experienced. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he winced at the pain in his wrist.

“Ow! What the fuck?” he whispered, examining his bandaged wrist and noticing blood was starting to come out. The wound had reopened, staining the white gauze red. “I hope ye dinnae hae rabies, Ghost. Otherwise, a'm in deep shit,” John chuckled. Carefully, he stood up and headed to the bathroom, trying not to wake Ghost.

He removed the blood-soaked gauze and rinsed his wrist under running water to clean the wound. Observing that it wasn't entirely open, just a few gashes, he felt relieved. Once the wound was clean, John retrieved more gauze and ointment for both him and Ghost from his study. He thought it's best to check and treat Ghost's injuries too when the dog woke up.

“Better safe than sorry.” Said John as he set the medical kit down on the kitchen table.

Having dressed and bandaged his own wound, John glanced at the small clock on the kitchen cabinet; it was almost 7 o'clock.

“ok, ah think it's aboot time tae roll up oor sleeves” He stretched his back before went to his room and gathering the bloodstained laundry and heading to the adjacent laundry room. With everything loaded into the washing machine, he returned to his room to tidy up the mess he had left before going to sleep at Gaz's. His best friend didn't even give him time to give the house a little tidy up before leaving.

“My grandmother would skin me alive, for leaving the house in this state,” John laughed to himself, recalling of when his grandmother used to pull his ear when he didn't sort out the things he left around the house. His stomach interrupted his memory with a rumbling protest incessantly.

“Come tae think o' it, ah haven't eaten since yesterday,” he realized as he finished tidying up. Heading to the kitchen to prepare something to eat for him, and for Ghost once he woke up.

“What do dogs even eat? ah doubt he'd lik' blueberry pancakes,” John mused, eventually opted on some fresh meat he had in the fridge. “Hope this should be enough. Once he wakes up, he'll probably be hungry after losing so much blood.”

As he carefully sliced the meat into thin pieces, thinking Ghost would not have the strength to chew, suddenly a cold shiver ran down his spine, and he felt as though he was being watched. Turning around slowly, he froze when an angry, guttural growl echoed behind him…

Ghost

In the cozy living room, the slumbering figure by the warm fireplace gradually stirred, a pained growl escaping its muzzle. Ghost slowly opened his eyes, disoriented amidst unfamiliar surroundings.

'Where… am I?'

His body ached with lingering pain, as if pierced by countless knives. He struggled to rise, but his limbs felt like heavy concrete and his head throbbed.

'What… happened?'

Racking his brain for memories of the previous night, vivid images flashed before him. His eyes widened as he remembered everything that had happened to him.  He remembered being ambushed by mysterious men in black and the deafening sound of gunfire. Amidst dodging bullets and voices shouting for backup, he managed to flee.

Lost in a dense forest, wounded and drained of energy, he collapsed during a raging snowstorm. But then, amidst snow and blood, he smelled a strange odour of carnations, honey, musk, oakwood, and spicy cinnamon wafted towards him. A soft, worried voice whispered nearby, but for whom? For him?

When he tried to open his eyes to see who that voice belonged, but then something in him snapped towards that intoxicating smell, and he heard that sweet hypnotic voice again. Even though he seemed to be suffering from something, he calmed him down and slowly drifted him away. Then it faded to fragmented memories, a gentle hand caressing him, a sweet voice speaking to him, calming him that everything would be all right, that he was safe with him.

'But… him who?' Wondered Ghost. Remembering another detail that made him gasp at the beauty of those eyes. Those eyes shone in the darkness from where he stood, large eyes of an intense stormy blue with lighter streaks reminiscent of icy waters that made the eyes stand out strikingly.

Ghost found them enchanting.

A clatter of objects coming from the next room jolted him, the sense of danger had not yet left his body. He got up not thinking about the pain and injuries, he started to walk staggering, and headed towards that noise in silence. 'If they caught me… I'll take them by surprise.'

Entering what looked like a kitchen, he posted the silhouette of a human with his back turned and humming softly. However, his gaze lowered as an indistinct red glow caught Ghost's attention, the human held a blood-stained knife.

'Danger.'

The glint of the blade sparked self-preservation instincts, and he growled threateningly. The human stopped short.

Ghost warily advanced, his growl echoing in the room. But he stopped as the human's trembling voice reached his ears.

“H-Hi?” The human's voice, though trembling with fear, was calm and gentle.

'I've heard that voice before. But where?' He shook off the distraction, thinking, 'now's not the time!' He resumed growling fiercely, watching as the human remained silent. Ghost wondered what he was plotting.

'But to what?' His thoughts were interrupted by the human speaking again.

“Alright, can we compromise? Ye stop growling, and ah calmly turn around,” he proposed nervously. The human began to rotate but, in his anxiety, forgot to put down the knife in his hand. Ghost interpreted this as an imminent attack and lunged…

Soap

John stopped when he felt a chilling growl from behind him, did some wild animal enter the house? was it in danger?

'Wait, an animal?’

‘No, wait, dinnae tell me it's… Ghost?'

John stopped shocked when he saw a dog blindfolded from head to tail reflected on the kitchen tiles, he realised it was indeed Ghost snarling at him now. But why? Perhaps waking up in an unfamiliar place with no one nearby to calm and reassure him, telling him he was safe, that he would be okay. Mentally John slapped his head, aware that surely this was the cause why Ghost was growling at him threateningly, because he had mistaken him for an enemy.

John swallowed with a dry throat, thought of many scenarios of how this could end, and the one he wanted to get out of the way the most was to be mauled alive. So, he took a big breath and decided to open his mouth. It was a bad idea.

"H-Hi," he said. 

'Hi? Did ah really say hi to a dog just now? Who the fuck am ah? Dr. Dolittle who talks tae animals? Weeping Jesus, if Gaz saw me, he'd tak' th' pish fur life.’ He thought, and when he heard Ghost growl again, he had confirmation that Ghost did not believe him.

'Great, now what should ah do? Run away? Na, he'd be alarmed and instantly maul me… But what the fuck am ah supposed tae do?' John was lost in thought, but then he had an idea, to play it cool and show him he wasn't a danger. And again… It was a FUCKING bad idea.

“Alright, can we compromise? Ye stop growling, and ah calmly turn around,” John thought that if he saw that he was just a harmless person and not a threat, Ghost would calm down and stop growling at him, but John forgot one small detail, putting down the bloody knife in his hand.

When he turned to Ghost, he saw the latter slash at him….

Ghost

A loud gasp and a pained groan escaped the human as Ghost threw himself on top of him, forcing the air out of his lungs. Poised to bite his neck, Ghost suddenly halted at the sound of the human's whimper. Raising his head, he stared in surprise at the quivering human beneath him, eyes squeezed shut and big, fat tears rolling down flushed cheeks as he desperately tried to speak through weak, stuttered sobs.

“I-I'm sorry…I-I didnae mean to…P-Please…I-I'm sorry…”

The human trembled uncontrollably like a leaf, his crying, and sobbing showing no signs of stopping. Ghost froze instantly, it was the first time in his life that he found himself not knowing what to do. He stayed like that for perhaps a few minutes too long, when he became aware of it, of the human's glassy eyes looking down at him, without looking away. Large eyes of an intense stormy blue with lighter streaks reminiscent of icy waters that made the eyes stand out strikingly.

They were the same as his memory.

As the human cried softly, he appeared more like a vulnerable child than an assailant Ghost once thought he was.

'It can't be one of those who attacked me,' he contemplated, reassured by the sight of the human below him. 'Unlike those who reeked of death and blood, this human smells…'

Ghost cautiously approached the human's neck again, sniffing intently. The momentary silence allowed him to notice the labored breathing, along with the loud—Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump—of the heartbeat that filled his ears.

Ghost straightened his ears to listen. 'His heart makes so much noise, like him. But it has a nice sound.' Ghost thought as he breathed in through his nose to smell him.

'Carnations, honey, musk, oakwood and…' Ghost lowered himself more onto the human's neck to smell more intensely. 'A hint of spicy cinnamon.’

The blend was an alluring mix; sweet and wild with just a touch of spice, something entirely unique from anyone else he had ever come across. And much to his surprise, for some strange, unknown reason, Ghost like it… perhaps more than he should.

Completely entranced by the intoxicating fragrance, Ghost didn't notice he had begun to drool until he heard the human's broken voice.

“P-Please dinnae eat me”

Ghost's eyes went wide,'what the fuck am I doing?’ jerked upwards and growled. But this time it was involuntary, but the human underneath him misinterpreted it, and tried to get into a fetal position covering his body, shivering and sobbing in terror.

“I'm sorry-I'm sorry-I'm sorry!” The human's panic intensified, and when it saw him so helpless and frightened, Ghost couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang in his chest.

' Why… does my chest hurt?' Puzzled by his own pain, he had a feeling it was due to the human who was crying beneath him. Ghost got up from on top of him and stood to the side, thinking that would stop the crying, but it didn't, the human curled more on himself.

Ghost couldn't shake the feeling that something inside him wanted to protect the human. He wanted to calm him, reassure him, to make it clear that he wasn't a threat. Even after his earlier attempt to attack the human, but only because he thought he was an enemy, and apparently, he realized that he had been mistaken; this human wasn't an enemy.

'What should I do to calm him down?’ Anxiety and frustration bubbled within Ghost as he worried over what to do next. Finally, an idea struck him, but it was something he'd never imagined himself doing.

'Fucking hell,' Ghost muttered. 'I can't believe I'm actually going to try this.'

And for the first time in his life, Ghost found himself doing something he never thought he would do. Honestly speaking? He didn't know if it would work… 

Soap

Ghost lunged at John, slamming them both to the ground. As they fell, a memory flickered through John's mind, the terrifying image of Him, the crimson eyed shadow who haunted his nightmares. John recalled pinning Him down on the freezing attic floor, while that sinister smile and nauseating laugh forced bile to rise in his throat.

Fear and panic caused John to mistake Ghost for Him, as he heard the horrifying voice whisper his name, sending him into unrelenting tears. He sobbed, repeating phrases from past nightmares like a twisted mantra.

“I-I'm sorry—"-Joahn-"—I-I didnae mean to—"-Joahn-"—P-Please—"-Joahn-"—I-I'm sorry—"-Joahn-"—Please."

John couldn't stop shaking like a leaf as he continued to cry, sobbing uncontrollably as his panic rooted itself deep within his mind and bones. Just waiting for the inevitable, but when he felt no twinge of pain or anything else coming on that could kill him, he hesitantly opened his eyes and saw a gaze staring back at him.

They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

These eyes weren't blood-red and chilling like his nightmare, instead, they were a mesmerizing amber hue, glittering like precious gems with streaks that ranged from dark honey to brilliant gold. Utterly captivated by those incredible eyes, John found himself unable to look away.

Tears streamed down his face once more as he stared, captivated by those intense eyes. He didn't even notice Ghost creeping closer until he felt its warm breath against his neck. Instantly, he froze, his tears ceased, but his racing heart could easily be heard in the shallow pants escaping his lips.

As he struggled to compose himself, Panic surged through him when he felt Ghost's damp nose tracing along his neck. The heated breath and soft huffs sent shivers down John's spine, and it suddenly hit him.

'W-Wait… is he sniffing me?' John gasped, his thoughts racing.

'Why?' His mind raced with questions, yet no answers at hand. His confusion only worsened as a warm, wet sensation spread across his skin.

'It's… drooling?’ Fear rose within him as the disturbing realization struck.

'Oh fuck! Dinnae tell me… he's hungry?’ The thought of Ghost being famished after losing so much blood seemed logical to John. Anxiety constricted his throat as the phantom continued to nuzzle and drool along his flesh.

'What am ah thinking? O' coorse, he’s hungry! YE FUKING EEJIT! And I'm the only friggin' meal around,' cursed John internally. Desperate and terrified, he barely squeaked out an imploring plea.

“P-Please dinnae eat me”

At the sound of Ghost's menacing growl, John chastised himself mentally, 'God, how come dinnae ah ever shut the fuck up? Now it's going to eat me for sure this time' he thought.

The wolf was on him, but despite his weight pinning John to the ground, he managed to move and get into a fetal position, covering his vital points. But the fact that he was crying and shaking did not change his situation much and, without realising it, he began to speak in panic and terror.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…” John kept crying and apologizing. But to whom? To Ghost? Or to Him ? He didn't care anymore. Why bother when you're about to be eaten alive?

When the constraining weight suddenly vanished, John didn't think about getting up and running away, rather, instinctively curled in on himself further. Wincing when he felt Ghost's hot breath on his face, John let out a groan of fear in his throat as he tried to hold back the sobs.

'Could mah life have sucked anymore?' he wondered. 'Single, never dated, and icing on the cake, dying at 20 in the prime of youth and a VIRGIN! I wouldn't be surprised if they made me a fucking saint,' he confirmed.

As he braced himself for the inevitable end.

“Huh?”

John felt something rough yet warm on his cheek. Opening his eyes slowly, he was met with the sight of Ghost tenderly licking his face...

Ghost

Ghost had never comforted anyone before, but that didn't mean he was clueless about how to do it. Hell, he hadn't even offered comfort to a member of his own pack, so this was uncharted territory for him. And the thought that he would someday find himself in a position to give solace was something he'd never have fathomed.

So, there he was, on the brink of comforting someone, a total stranger at that. The stranger lay on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, tugging at Ghost's heartstrings. Knowing that he was the source of this despair only intensified the weight of guilt bearing down on him.

Ghost had conquered brutal missions and ferocious battles single-handedly, always emerging victorious and relatively unscathed. He'd done it all with an air of indifference, as if nothing was ever truly challenging. But comforting a person? This just might be the most difficult and bizarre task he'd ever encountered, and he was damn sure of it.

He could already imagine Price's smug face if he knew Ghost was playing the role of comforter. Despite being slightly annoyed, Ghost couldn't help but be amused by the thought. He cautiously approached the sobbing human, still curled in on himself, and lowered his muzzle to take in that intoxicating scent once again.

'I must admit… he smells incredible,' Ghost silently confirmed, feeling an odd sense of calm envelop him as he continued sniffing. Taking in every detail of the human's face, it struck him how beautiful it truly was, soft yet masculine features with full lips now forming an irresistible quivering pout. Ghost observed an elongated scar stretching from chin to lip and another smaller one across his left eyebrow. This stranger's tear-streaked cheeks were tinged with a lovely shade of pink, and it wasn't until now that Ghost noticed his long, thick eyelashes glistening with tears.

'Pretty,' was the only word that came to his mind, a perfect description of the human's face at that moment.

Hesitant to offer comfort, not from reluctance but rather from uncertainty, Ghost was at a loss on where to begin. He'd never been one for physical affection or tender gestures, so providing solace was foreign territory for him.

'What the fuck am I supposed to do to console this guy?' he wondered, and then it hit him. A memory of a crying child being consoled by an adult flooded his thoughts, revealing exactly what he needed to do next.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Shh, calm now, Tommy, don't cry. It's going to be fine; it's only a minor scrape,” little Simon reassured his tearful baby brother after he'd taken a nasty tumble and scraped his knee.

“See, it'll stop bleeding soon. We just need to put a bandage on it,” Little Simon said gently, trying to soothe his distraught sibling. Tommy paused his sobbing momentarily, gazing up at Simon through watery eyes. “Alright, let's go get that band-” Simon's sentence was cut short as Tommy resumed crying with even greater intensity.

“Hey! Hey! Easy there, Tommy. It's nothing, really. Please stop crying,” Little Simon pleaded, his anxiety growing by the moment. Suddenly, he felt the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder and spun around fearfully, only to relax when he saw it was their loving mother.

“Oh, my precious little pups, come here, mummy is going to make your boo-boo go away now” she murmured tenderly as she enfolded them both in her arms and led them to their cosy den. Little Simon watched in awe as their mother transformed into a wolf and positioned herself behind them. She began to nuzzle Tom's head gently before moving on to tenderly lick his cheeks, an action that quickly soothed him.

“You see, my sweet Simon,” she began softly, “sometimes you don't need words to comfort someone, gestures can be more powerful. When words fail you, rely on your actions and body language to convey your feelings and truly connect with others.”

From an outsider's perspective, one might have mistaken her approach for admonishment. However, her intent was clear: Like any good parent, she wanted to teach her child how best to handle distressing situations while showering him with love, so he understood the vital lesson. 

“And remember this day, my dear Simon: When the time comes when you desperately want to console someone but struggle to find the right words, recall how I comforted your little brother today. Use gestures when words escape you, and you'll see just how effective they can be.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

'I hope you are right, Mum' he whispered, as his mother's comforting words resonated in his mind. 'Use gestures, not words’ said decisively.

‘Use gestures, use gestures, use gestures,' he repeated to himself. Unconsciously, like he had activated autopilot mode, he began to lick the human's face, wiping away the tears.

“Huh?” The human halted his sobbing and slowly opened his eyes in disbelief to find Ghost affectionately licking his face.

'Hm?' Ghost paused for a moment, tasting the tears on his tongue.

‘Odd. Aren't they meant to be bitter?’ He gave another tentative lick, and a burst of delightful flavours overwhelmed him. Confounded by the human before him, Ghost started mentally cataloguing all the peculiarities that defined this individual.

His smell is strange, a blend of fragrant carnations, musk, honey, oakwood, and spicy cinnamon. The mingling scents formed an unusual yet pleasant smell. It is different from any being he had ever smelt, human or monster; none of them had this intoxicating smell

His eyes are strange, were a striking cerulean blue resembling gemstones set within his sockets that sparkled brightly. They were exceptionally captivating, uncommon among humans and monsters; no one had a similar pair of fascinating eyes.

And as if there was never an end to the strange things he discovers about this human, upon tasting his tears, Ghost discovered that they too were strange, pleasantly strange. And Ghost had tasted his fair share of cruel and evil humans and monsters, tasting with disgust the bitterness and unpleasant sensation that remained in his mouth as he killed them. But these tears? It was not bitter but sweet, tasty and pleasant, enriching Ghost's palate with a pleasant sensation he had never experienced. And no human being or monster he knew had such delicious tears.

'I've never met someone like you,' he commented while licking his muzzle to relish more of those delectable tears.

‘Fascinating,’ Ghost murmured with curiosity.

'Who the hell are you, little thing?' he asked the human underneath him. Even though he knew the human wouldn't understand him in his wolf form, he couldn't resist the inquiry. Ghost didn't actually care since the thing he was interested in now was only one thing… knowing more about this human.

"W-Wait! That– Oh god - hahaha! It tickles, dammit!" The human squirmed to keep from laughing, but that did not stop Ghost from licking him even harder.

“Hey! Easy, big fella! Cannae ye see A'm ticklish?” He attempted to escape Ghost's persistent affections, licking and nuzzling against his face with abandon. Placing his hands onto Ghost’s soft, furry chest, he gingerly pushed the large dog away in an effort not to aggravate his wounds further.

"All right, all right! I get it, ye'r a big fluffy dog that wants cuddles, huh?" The human laughed as he rearranged himself into a more comfortable sitting position, with Ghost snuggled comfortably between his spread-out legs.

‘Ok, let’s clarify something,’ Ghost began, fully aware that his words would fall on deaf ears. Yet he continued, ‘Firstly, I’m by no means a fucking dog. And secondly, cuddling isn’t my thing—’ He halted mid-sentence as he felt a hand delicately scratching behind his ears.

‘Ah! Fuuuck, right there! A smidge to the right, yes here! just a bit more—WHAT THE HELL AM I SAYING?!’ Ghost froze, horrified by his own words.

Did he just express a desire for more scratching?

He who, just being named, made the most dangerous creatures in existence tremble with fear?

The nightmare of 141?

The notorious Ghost?

Him? 

'Can't be,' he muttered firmly, 'I'm a ruthless monster who annihilates anyone who crosses my path. Not someone who craves frivolous scratches or cuddles. Bloody hell!'

“Oh? From the way yer tail’s wagging, it seems like you’re quite fond of cuddles, aren’t ye? Well, here’s some more, big boy,” the human began scratching under his chin, careful to avoid any wounds.

'Stop! I don't fucking enjoy it!' He thought, but his tail, now wagging joyfully, seemed to disagree.

'I swear on Price's pricey cigars, that one of these days I'm going to bite this fucking tail off!' he grunted, irritated that his tail had a mind of its own.

"Look at ye, ye'r such a big softie, aren't ye? Such a good boy." The human chuckled, his eyes now devoid of fear and agony, replaced with pure joy and tenderness.

Ghost was captivated by the sound of his voice, so gentle and soothing. The human's radiant smile warmed his limbs and heart. His cheeks glowed with a sweet rosy hue, and his eyes sparkled with a light Ghost had never seen in anyone else. Beautiful, he's so fucking Beautiful.

Thump-Thump

At that moment, Ghost felt something strange, something he had never felt was forming inside him, something that made him feel warm. A peculiar fire burned inside, like smouldering coals that didn't yet ignite into a full blaze but were just hot enough to warm his body, his soul.

Thump-Thump

His heart pounded furiously, echoing like a relentless drumbeat of—Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump—growing deafening as time went on. Stifling even the quietest sounds around him. His amber eyes darkened, pupils dilating, as he stared at the mysterious human before him, who wore a look of concern.

Thump-Thump

“Hey big guy, everything okay?” Though barely audible against the cacophony of his heartbeat, the human's voice was like sweet honey, soothing and warm.

Thump-Thump-Thump

“Ghost?” At that moment when he heard his name spoken by that sweet voice. He felt enchanted, enraptured, as if that voice was the sweet song of a siren that was bewitching him to drift and drag him with it to the bottom of the abyss.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump

When had his name sounded so enticing on someone else's lips? Ghost found himself wondering what it would be like if this mysterious human had spoken his real name instead of his alias. Would it have been the same?

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump

Ghost was losing himself, yes, he was losing himself in those beautiful blue eyes like stormy seas, which were looking at him, as if he was looking straight into his soul.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump

His pulse accelerated even more, threatening to break and exit the rib cage that chained him to his body; he sensed a storm on the horizon. However, there was no storm raging outside the house; no, the storm was coming from within him. A storm that was bringing a new change in him.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump

In his mind he heard the creaking of his bones breaking and then rearranging themselves, he felt how each of his muscles were tearing under his skin and then healing again. It was as if every molecule in his body were separating and coming together again, forming something new, something that was taking hold of his being.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump

Or perhaps it wasn't new but rather something more… ancient.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump

That something inside him seemed only to be awakening from deep slumber, rising from the darkest recesses of his soul. Something deep, primal, and ancient was calling to him, a voice that was barely a whisper was trying to speak.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump—

Over the deafening cacophony of his heart's relentless pounding and the ensuing inner storm. But he could sense it, and he could hear how with each beat of his heart, the voice gradually became clearer and louder, overpowering the noise of his beating.

Promise

'Promise? What promise?' Ghost asked himself confused. The voice was stark, it seemed to be his own, but at the same time it seemed not to belong to him. It persisted.

Protect 

'Who? Who do I have to protect?' Ghost tried somehow to communicate with the voice echoing in his head, but it only provoked an agonizing headache.  

Mate

'What?' But before Ghost could fathom the last statement, another familiar voice ripped him back to reality.

“GHOST!” The mysterious human snapped his fingers in front of Ghost's face, and the latter tilted his head, somewhat confused by what had just happened. But what had happened? He could not remember.

What had just happened slipped through his memory like sand between fingers.

Still dazed, Ghost tried focusing on the present, unable to dismiss an unyielding sense of urgency pulled from deep within, as if remembering was crucial. His thoughts scattered once more as the mystery human's concerned voice reached out for attention.

“Hey, big guy… It's OK, ye'r safe” The human whispered soothingly, careful not to aggravate Ghost's agitated state. Only then did Ghost notice that he was panting heavily.

“Shh, ye'll be fine. Breathe slowly,” the human said, tenderly stroking Ghost's back in a rhythmic up-and-down motion from the base of his mane to his rump. He repeated this gesture several times with the utmost care and soft pressure, making it pleasant or perhaps comforting for Ghost. He realised that he didn't despise the human's touch on him at all, in fact Ghost wanted it more, for him to caress and touch him more, and Ghost was a guy who didn't much like contact or being touched by people, but he found himself longing for those gentle hands on him and relaxing into his touch.

“Yeah, good boy, that's it, slowly” The human had come so close to his muzzle that it seemed to him that the human was even more handsome than before. At that moment, Ghost relented and rested his furry head on the human's neck, relishing the warmth radiating from his body. A long-forgotten sense of domesticity invaded him as he closed his eyes and let himself be lulled to sleep by the sound of the human's breathing and steady heartbeat: the sweetest lullaby he had ever known.

Letting himself go to sleep, Ghost felt safe and secure as never before.

Soap

John observed Ghost positioning his snout cosily against his neck before drifting off to sleep between strokes. A wave of warmth enveloped his heart as he realized Ghost had completely trusted him by lowering his guard.

“i see someone is back tae tak' his beauty nap, huh?” John chuckled softly as he attempted to move Ghost off him, but it hardly made any difference. Soon, he found himself lying on the floor with Ghost sprawled on top of him, pinning him down.

“Steam Jesus, ye'r so fucking heavy,” John grunted as he attempted to budge Ghost, but it was futile. The dog seemed like an unyielding statue. Frustrated, John sighed at his predicament. After what felt like five minutes, boredom set in. He contemplated ways to pass the time until Ghost would awaken again and decided on the only option available… Annoy his best friend.

      𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗛𝗲𝘆, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗼? 🤗💥😚💥👍

Barely a moment after John kept stroking Ghost's head and playfully pinched his hairy ears, he heard a *Ping* from his cell phone. Gaz had responded.

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽

      𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁? 😊

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝟴 𝗮.𝗺., 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗚𝗼𝗱'𝘀 𝘀𝗮𝗸𝗲. 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗿 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝘂𝗻
< 𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗜'𝗺 𝗱𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴? 𝗔𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿?🤦🏾‍♂️

John puffs out a laugh

     𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵?

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂😤

𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗡𝗮𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗱𝗼 𝗶𝘁, 𝘄𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗵𝘆😌

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆?
< 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻? 🤨

     𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗦𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲, 𝗜'𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝗲 🤗

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗡𝗼𝗽𝗲
< 𝗜'𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗜'𝗺 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝘀 💅🏾

     𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗚𝗼𝗱, 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗜'𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝘂𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂💥😑

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗪𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻

     𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱? 

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗪𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝘆𝗲𝘀
< 𝗕𝘂𝘁
< 𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 🙅🏾

     𝗦𝗼𝗮𝗽:

𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 😤💥🖕💥

𝗚𝗮𝘇:

< 𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 😉

Amused, John closed the chat and placed his phone on the floor beside him. He glanced at Ghost, who now lay completely atop him like a blanket. Feeling his eyes growing heavy, he yawned deeply. Ghost's warmth provided a sense of comfort and security that John hadn't felt in ages, making him wish he'd never have to leave this cosy and warm spot.

“Well, ah think we've earned ourselves a good sleep,” he murmured, yawning and snuggling closer to Ghost's chest.

“Sweet dreams, Ghost. This time, ye won't wake up alone.” John smiled and planted a tender kiss on Ghost's snout while stroking his velvety ears once more. Lulled by the warmth enveloping him, he drifted into a peaceful slumber alongside Ghost.

Chapter Text

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝟸𝟻/0𝟹/𝟸0**

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎: 𝟸𝟷:𝟹0

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙺𝚒𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗: 𝙶𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚐𝚘𝚠

2 days before the meeting between Ghost and Soap

It's nighttime in the town of Kirkintilloch, many stores have already closed or are about to close, the lights of streetlamps and stores still open illuminate the street covered with ice and fresh snow

𝑫𝒊𝒏𝒈

The sound of a bell echoes in the silence of the street.

“Alright, I'm off. See you tomorrow,” a young woman says as she steps out of a cosy bookshop. She waves goodbye to the elderly shopkeeper, Rory, who is behind the counter.

“See you tomorrow, Dairine. And don't forget to return that book, or else…” Rory attempts to jest, but Dairine cuts him off before he can complete his threat.

“Or else you'll deduct it from my pay. I know the drill, Rory,” Dairine retorts playfully, feigning annoyance. Her tone reveals her genuine fondness for him.

“Smart girl,” he replies with a grunt before adding, “Be careful on your way home. I'd offer you a ride if it weren't for all this snow, and my damned legs.” He glances down at his wheelchair with a bittersweet smile.

“I know, Rory, thank you very much. But you know, I know how to take care of myself” Dairine reached into her bag to grab her black belt, her pride, and joy, showing it to Rory to remind him that she's not one to mess with.

He chuckles before recalling their last conversation on this topic. “Let's just hope it doesn't end up like last time, with two poor sods in the emergency room.”

“Hey! They had it coming,” she exclaims defiantly.

“They grabbed my ass, and I just reacted like the poor little helpless girl that I am” Dairine made a smug grimace at Rory and the man snorted.

“Yes, just a helpless little poor girl, smashing their noses, tilting a few ribs and breaking a few teeth. Yes, very helpless” Rory and Dairine were silent for a moment, until they burst into a big laugh.

“Okay, I'll go before it gets any later, when I get home, I'll text you, okay?” Dairine extended her hand and greeted Rory, which the latter returned the greeting with a nod.

“Holy shit! It's freezing!” Dairine walked down the snowy road, and did not notice some figures in black hovering in the shadows keeping an eye on her every step.

Chapter Text

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝟸𝟽/0𝟹/𝟸0**

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎: 𝟷𝟼:𝟹0

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗: 𝙶𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚐𝚘𝚠

It had been snowing all day in Glasgow, covering the city and the police station in a beautiful white blanket. In the air could be heard the sounds of the sirens of the patrol cars as they moved over the snowy tarmac, not stopping for a second. Although it seemed to be quite inside the station, the same could not be said for its interior.

Through the corridors of the station, behind a door, one could hear the screams of anger and frustration of several agents who had been summoned for an emergency meeting in a private lounge. Various types of agents from all over the UK had gathered here, one of them being the Team of Experts, headed by Special Agent Price, who had been called in to help the police with the Black Sheep cult case.

In the private room, Price was sitting at the end of the table, talking animatedly to discussing some information that might be relevant to finding the sect. Ghost stood just behind him, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, as he watched the affluent and the agents who were present, watching as his boss held back from thumbing his nose at the person across the room.

“This is madness! I'm not sending one of my men into the field with the risk that he won't come back for a fucking theory of his own!” Blurted out Price angrily, as he pulled a cigar from his mouth, puffing at the chief of police, Captain Hector Murray, who was sitting across the table from him.

“This is not a theory, Officer Price. There has been movement in a forest not far from here, and it is suspected that their base is located there,” Captain Murray said calmly. But this did not quell the anger that was holding Price back, only building it up more.

Price's fury continued to intensify. “You suspect?” Price widened his eyes at him, he asked incredulously. “You are telling me that you suspect them to be there.”

He got up from his chair and pointed with his finger to a spot on the map that was on the table, and added, “but you have no evidence to confirm this. Am I wrong?”

After he had finished speaking, Price sat back down in his chair, looking Captain Murray straight in the eye and began tapping his fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for Captain Murray to respond.

“The movements were confirmed by one of our patrols, who searched the area and found the same items at the scene of the other murders.” Silently, he gestured to an officer nearby, who promptly handed him a folder. Captain Murray tossed it nonchalantly onto the table in Price's direction. Inside were photographs and objects recovered from the scene.

The location indicated in the file, was an old, abandoned building called The House of the Happy Sun a former orphanage nestled amidst a remote forest not far from Earl's Seath.

In the photographs, Price noticed peculiar items belonging exclusively to the 'Black Sheep.' One of their hallmarks was their use of ornate, handmade artefacts instead of purchasing them from stores or online. These items, such as gorgon eyes, dragon scales, banshee tears, griffon feathers, and unicorn horns were far too costly for ordinary cults. To most humans, they appeared as mundane objects or convincing replicas, but in reality, they were genuine and held immense power, especially if fallen into the wrong hands.

Price fell silent for an extended period, and Ghost could sense that whatever he was reading in the files was something not good based on Price's tense demeanour.

Captain Murray broke the silence. “I'm not asking you to go in blindfolded, Agent Price.”

“My team has already verified that no one is there. Since we aren't sure what to look for or where to start searching, I decided that one of your top agents…” He glanced briefly at Ghost before continuing.

“… Could accomplish what my agents can't.” Pausing to lock gazes with Price's menacing eyes, Captain Murray swallowed his unease and added forcefully, “That is, finding those batshit lunatics who worship Satan himself and slaughter innocent victims in his name.” He then leaned back in his chair, awaiting Price's response. 

“I understand your point, Captain Murray. But—"

“I'll go”

Everyone froze and shifted their attention to where Price stood; more specifically: Ghost.

“No fucking way. It's too dangerous,” Price barked while advancing toward him. 

“Price,” Ghost began gravely. “We just received word that another girl matching the previous victims' criteria has been missing for over two days now. She could have run away or been kidnapped, but the longer we stand around debating, the greater the risk we'll never find her alive.” 

Ghost looked straight into Price's eyes, although on the outside it looked like they were just having a staring contest, in reality Ghost was talking to him, not through his mouth, but mentally. 'You know damn well I'm skilled at tracking down our targets. I'll only be gone one or two hours, tops, and then I'll be back, just like always.'

Price fell silent for several minutes, struggling to weigh his options and determine the best course of action. Ghost was right; the missing girl might have merely fled, or worse, been abducted by the cult. Time was running out, and they had to act swiftly before…

Price sighed and patted Ghost on the shoulder and told him in a stern but not too stern tone

“Listen, if you notice any movement, inform me right away and get the hell out of there. These bastards aren't like the other cults we've faced, Simon. They're fucking skilled, their strategies, their knowledge of how to attack our people, they were raised from birth for this shit. To hunt, to fight, and to kill those like us.”

He glared into Ghost's eyes with intensity. “If two hours and one minute go by without hearing from you, I'll be there in person to drag your ass back home by the tail, no complaints accepted. Got it?”

“Got it,” Ghost replied, voice laden with determination.

~~~

Accompanied by two agents, Ghost ventured towards the scene. Upon reaching the wooded area, he barely had time to process what was happening when both the agents were killed in an instant. Wasting no time, turned to fight against the men in black lurking in the shadows, unaware of the enchanted trap that impeded his regenerative abilities.

Fearing death drawing near, Ghost unleashed his 'true' nature. The once-pristine forest became awash with a vibrant crimson hue amidst a swirling blizzard. Fatigued from battle and his own transformation, coupled with significant blood loss, he stumbled through the snowy terrain before collapsing under its suffocating weight. As consciousness slipped away, Ghost could have sworn he heard a voice, sweet and enchanting, carried by the wind…

That night, neither of them could have imagined that their simple meeting, would trigger a major and drastic change in their lives and the lives of those close to them.

Now that the wheel of fate has begun to move again after millennia, chained to that promise made at the dawn of time…

Chapter Text

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: ██████████

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎: █████

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: ██████ █████

𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗: ████████

In an unidentified location, a young girl lies unconscious on the cold, hard concrete floor…

'I'm… cold' she mumbles, slowly opening her eyes as a jolt of pain makes her wince and draw back. The agony throbbing in her head causes her to grit her teeth and close her eyes once more.  

'W-Where… am I?' The girl feels completely disoriented. She opens her eyes again and observations of the unusual surroundings take over. Turning her head, she notices the blurry landscape around her to be some sort of… room? If one could even call it that.

The only light comes from a dim lamp dangling from the ceiling, illuminating the concrete walls that match the cold floor. Strange stains or dark brown paint splatters make up its entirety. The place is disturbingly barren without any furniture or decorations and drowning in silence. Too quietly.

She attempts to get up but feels physically exhausted, as if she just completed an intense workout and needs rest desperately.

“Well, look at that. Sleeping Beauty has finally awakened,” a man's voice echoes through the quiet room, drawing the girl's attention towards him. 

'Who…' The girl thought she saw wrong for a moment, because she swore, she saw the man's eyes being red for a moment.

“But fuck, you're a fighter, aren't you? No wonder they bound you, you knocked out some of my brothers” said the man with a hint of amusement.

As the man continued to talk, the girl did not pay much attention to him, as gradually in her mind, memories of what had happened to her were surfacing. Going out to work, strange men in black dragging her into an alley, the fight, the escape, and—Meow—the meow of a cat. 

“You know, you could be the one we've been looking for a long time.” The man moved from where he stood, still away from the light source, not showing his face.

Meow~

The sound of the sweet meow stopped her running.

The girl glanced down the dark alley that was to her right, as she heard the footsteps and voices of the men in black, who were still looking for her to come closer as they approached her.

There was no time to stop, but the meowing seemed to be beckoning her back, to lead her in his direction. And as crazy as the idea of following a cat into a dark alley had been, her instincts told her to go.

The girl did not hesitate and followed the sound of the meow, darting without hesitation into the dark alley…

“I can't wait to tell our Father the good news, he will be glad to see you again” the man grins sinisterly, unable to contain his excitement as he mentions this Father.

Meow~

The girl ran without ever turning around, without ever stopping, without ever staying on the same path, changing direction a few times as she heard the meowing directing her where she should go.

Her legs were pushed to their limit running on fresh snow, while her lungs burned like they would burst at any second, but she did not stop. After a while, she no longer felt the men in black who were at her heels, she thought she had succeeded, that she had deposed them.

But, that was not the case, when she felt something grab her ankle and pulled…

“Ahh, you know? finding you was a damn near impossible task, especially with that fucking Team constantly on our tail,” the man said, his expression shifting from smug to irritated as he mentioned the Team.

Meow~

A cry echoed through the air, accompanied by a heavy thud as a body hit the cold ground. Despite the snow's softness, it offered no respite for her face-first fall, leaving her unconscious for a moment. As she came to, she realized she was still face-down on the ground.

Lifting her head, she noticed the once-white snow beneath her now tainted red with her blood. The sharp pain searing through her nose confirmed that she had broken it during her fall. She felt a tightening grip around her ankle and didn't hesitate to turn and kick her assailant.

However, as she turned around to face them, what she saw chilled her to the bone…

“They underestimated us, thought they could put an end to our plans, thinking they could stop us. Turns out they're even more foolish than I had anticipated,” the man paused before erupting into a sinister laugh that pierced the silence.

Meow~ Meow~

The cat's meowing became more insistent when he did not see her coming, but she could neither answer nor move, and how could she? When something unknown held her ankle.

The creature that held her had no discernible form; just black tendrils emanating from a central mass, dissolving into smoke on contact with air. Its elongated arms resembled tree branches and felt icy cold around her ankle.

It possessed no face but two glowing red orbs where eyes should have been, accompanied by a jagged-toothed smile etched across what seemed like its mouth. Panic and terror welled up inside her as she failed to notice the soft mewing transforming into a fearsome roar, breaking the eerie silence…

“Can you believe their arrogance? They claim to be experts with full knowledge of our methods, and yet they fell right into our simple trap,” The man's amusement was palpable.  

ROAAAAAAR~

The girl's eyes widened at the sight of a massive figure lunging at the monstrous creature, disappearing with it around a blind corner. A chaotic cacophony of shrieks, snarls, and struggle bombarded her senses.

Still in shock from the surreal experience, she stayed rooted to the spot as she listened to the commotion. Finally, it ended with one final roar followed by a heavy thud. Moments later, a voice hollered at her.

“RUN NOW, DAIRINE! GET AWAY!”  

Without questioning how the stranger knew her name, she sprang to her feet and ran as fast as she could…

“I would have paid gold, to see the muzzle of that stupid dog getting clubbed.” the man sneered, laughing cruelly. It was a heartless laugh; emotionless and, for some odd reason, made the girl's blood run cold.

ROAAAAAAR~

Run, without stopping.

Run, without turning around.

Run-Run-Run-Run-Run-Run—RUN DAIRINE!

That singular goal filled her mind as she fled the danger, sprinting until she spotted a flickering light ahead. The glow of streetlamps signalled the end of the alley, opening up to a busy street teeming with people.

Relief washed over her momentarily, she was safe—Or so she believed.

“𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂”

A voice resounded through the alleyway and reverberating within her mind.

“𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏”

In an instant, every other noise ceased while the voice grew louder in both her surroundings and her head, provoking a splitting headache.

“𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒍'𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖”

Her body grew heavier with each stride, and she felt her legs buckle beneath her. She crumpled onto the freezing, snow-covered ground.

"𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆"

The girl tried to call for help, but a sharp pain ran through her tongue, she cried out in pain, but no sound came out.

“𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓.”

Her head swam with dizziness, while her eyelids felt like lead. She dragged herself clumsily towards an illuminated street and desperately tried to cry out for help, but nobody could hear her silent plea. As she succumbed to darkness, she heard footsteps crunching in the snow nearby.

A pair of black boots appeared before her eyes; looking up revealed a sinister figure clad in black.

[Seven here, target secured. Proceeding to the extraction point. Over and out]  

Before drowning in darkness completely, she wondered if she would ever see her loved ones again, her friends, her cherished bookshop, or her kind boss, Rory, who was like a grandfather to her. Would she ever wake from this slumber?

And with that she closed her eyes, and a darkness enveloped her…

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Suddenly, memories flooded her mind. She remembered the horrific events leading up to her capture, but one question remained unanswered: why couldn't she speak or move now that she was awake? Her thoughts were interrupted by the man's cold voice.

“But the goddess of fortune is always on our side, smiling down on us, now that we have you.” The man, who had been standing motionless since he began speaking, stepped closer to her, lingering on the edge of where the dim lamplight met the shadows.

He remained shrouded in darkness as his voice transformed into a chilly, sinister tone, sending a wave of dread through her.

“So, tell me, are you excited about reuniting with Him soon?” The word Him resounded throughout the room, emphasizing its significance.

'Him who?' The girl's brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to make sense of his inquiry.

“Oh! I'm sorry, that's right, now you can't talk in your current state” He feigned an apology, but his voice betrayed an obvious sense of amusement.

'My current state? What do you mean' Her confusion only deepened. While she had been unconscious, had they made her take a drug that restricted the use of her body and voice? Maybe that explained her pounding headache.

“Well, you see,” the man casually explained, “my brother has a remarkable skill for binding people. We've bound both your body and voice to prevent any violent outbursts from you.” He paused before adding reassuringly, “But don't worry, we haven't bound your mind. We need you fully aware during the ritual.”

'Bond? Ritual? What the fuck are you trying to do to me, son of a cunt?' The girl wanted to scream and spit at him, but discovered these so-called bonds were stronger than she could have imagined.

“What? The cat got your tongue?” He taunted her cruelly before laughing as she glared at him with furious eyes. She wished vehemently that she could bite his throat and rip it open.

“Even in this state, you're fighting spirit remains strong,” he said while whistling in admiration. “The fire in your eyes makes them even more captivating.”

He paused before whispering, seemingly to himself, “But his eyes are simply incomparable.”

As he walked around her again, never leaving the darkness, he sighed with a tinge of regret, "It's truly a pity that the ritual will change everything."

 "You know, I genuinely hope it fails. That you aren't the one." He stopped right behind her, but her bound state prevented her from looking at his face.

He crouched behind her, gently gliding a hand up and down her arm. Disgust coursed through her veins as his touch sent shivers of revulsion down her spine. 

The man then leaned in closer to breathe an icy chill along her earlobe. In a low whisper laced with malicious anticipation, he rasped, “I can't fucking wait for our time together once your body goes cold and stiff so that I can heat it up again. And look at me with those beautiful blue eyes of yours that will have turned a faded, charming white.” 

‘What…’ Horror spread across her face at his vile words. 

’No… Please… Not this… Anything but this.' Panic surged through her thoughts as she grasped the meaning behind his declaration.

Desperately, she prayed to any God that might exist on earth to save her from this twisted fate.

But nothing came, only a promise that she would never be free... not even after death.

“We'll have a hell of a time together, I guarantee it. Not that you'll be able to enjoy it. But don't worry; I'll handle everything.” His grin widened.

“My dear—Dairine.”

Chapter Text

Outside, there was a snowstorm that seemed to never end. The howling of the wind made the silence of his room even more eerie in the darkness of the night. Each gust sent a shiver down his spine, but he was used to being alone, surrounded only by the shadows. Besides, he had seen and heard things more disturbing than a simple noise or the play of shadows changing shape in the dark that kept him awake, even though it was past 1 a.m.

It was the damned noise of window sashes banging together that kept him awake. Each clash resounded like a hammer against his sanity, echoing in his skull. His neighbour had forgotten to close them before jetting off to sunbathe on some Caribbean coast, leaving him here with a massive headache from the relentless clamour.

God, how he fucking envied those who had the money for such luxury trips! Maybe he needed to summon some entity for real to make him rich, but for now, he vented his frustration by cursing his neighbour under his breath. 

For a moment, the thought of just leaving the windows as they were, letting them break from the gusts of wind as payback for his stolen sleep and rattled nerves, was tantalizing. Because he swore, he might kill someone if the noise continued. 

But thinking about it, when his neighbour would return from the fucking trip and complain about any damage for who knows how long, made his blood boil.

And the truth?

He didn't have much patience and wasn't sure if he'd end up breaking his neighbour's nose or worse, landing himself in jail for aggravated assault. So, he did what he had to do: close those damn window sashes or kill his neighbour when he got back.

He chose the first option; an option that wouldn't land him behind bars. 

He sighed deeply, irritated and conflicted about leaving the warmth and comfort of his bed, but the sooner he did so and the sooner he would get to sleep. He pulled off the comforter with a groan, shivering as cold air bit into his warm skin. Trudging through the darkness towards the window, looking towards the window sashes. The view was blurry due to the layer of ice that had formed over the glass, but he could do it with his eyes closed. After all, he had been taught that there was no need to use only one sense when four others were available.

He closed his eyes, relying completely on his hearing and eliminating the other sounds in the background. The whispering wind, the rustling leaves and branches, and even the dripping of the leaking pipe from the other room faded into a distant hum. Until all that remained was the sound of squeaking window sashes opening and closing.

He put a hand on the glass, feeling its coolness seep into his skin, relaxing his tense muscles. A sigh escaped into the darkness of his room as silence draped itself around him like a heavy blanket.

“𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙥.”

The shutters halted abruptly, as if frozen mid-movement. Not even the wind dared to disturb them from their suspended state.

“𝙂𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠.”

Slowly, they began to glide back to their original place.

“𝘾𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠.”

In the profound silence that followed, a faint click echoed through the room, and finally there was silence. 

He sighed with relief, and then gradually everything went back to the way it was before. The sound of the wind, the rustling of leaves and branches, the continuous dripping of the leaking pipe and the deafening noise of someone knocking incessantly on his door insulting him in another language. 

Yes, peace has finally returned.

Yes, peace.

…

Wait.

The noise of someone insulting him and knocking on his door? 

“¡CARAJO! ¡ABRE LA MALDITA PUERTA! ¡HIJO DE PUTA JURO QUE TIRARÉ LA PUERTA ABAJO!” A man's voice roared angrily from behind the door as it shuddered with each blow of fists and kicks.

“OPEN THE DOOR, IT'S URGENT!” another voice cried out desperately, this time. 

Voices he immediately recognized. Heart racing, he darted out of his room, dashed through the living room to fling open the door, only to be met by a gruesome sight, two men clutching an unconscious third man drenched in blood.

“WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED?” Gaz demanded as he took in their appearances. He stepped aside hurriedly to let them in before glancing around if anyone or anything had followed them. Seeing that no trap had been triggered, he closed the door behind him and thanked the fact that his only neighbour was not there. It would be bloody annoying to make an excuse. Well, there was always the option of amnesia magic, that always worked.

“Who did that to him?” Gaz quickly offered assistance.

“The bloody cult, that’s who,” Alejandro spat venomously. “Now help me lay him on the bed.”  He took the man in his arms and carried him straight into the bedroom, with caution not to aggravate any wounds.

“The cult?” Gaz’s face drained of colour as he processed this information while helping Alejandro set the man down.

“How did they find us?” walking away from them, to get some things from his study, when he returned in his arms he had a pile of things, between jars with a strange substance, some minerals, small bones and herbs, placing them on the desk throwing everything on the floor to make room.

“It was a fucking coincidence to tell the truth,” Rudy replied from behind them, as he knelt on the floor drawing a mysterious circle. “He had called me, saying he had managed to find one of the girls from the orphanage. Ale told him to wait for us, but he hung up away immediately.” Rudy cast a sorrowful glance at the man's form, his body marred by bites and cuts that wept incessant streams of blood. Black and purple bruises tattooed most of his exposed skin. Rudy lowered his head again, the sight too harrowing to bear. He took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. 

“By the time we arrived on the scene, it was all over. With my clairvoyance, I was able to see what had happened. He found the girl just in time as she was fleeing from those sect bastards. To avoid detection, he shifted into his cat form to guide her away. But then she was attacked by a fucking shadow demon, forcing him to change plans.”

“He transformed back into his original form, trying to give the girl time to escape,” Alejandro paused as he removed the last bloody tattered garment of what was left of a now discarded t-shirt. “He struggled with the shadow demon, and took him down, but those sons of bitches immediately seized the opportunity when he was too weak to fight back and surrounded him. Rudy managed to see that they had captured him and with magic they teleported him who knows where and from there, we don't know what happened to him.”

“If only he had fucking listened to me! I told him not to go alone because we didn't know how much power the cult had regained,” Alejandro bitterly spat out, gripping the blood-stained shirt, so tightly his knuckles turned white. Tears brimmed in his eyes and his voice choked up as he added, “If he had listened, he wouldn’t be in this goddamned state right now. Puto pendejo…” The last words trailed off as a shattered whisper.

Gaz looked at Alejandro, feeling an overwhelming wave of empathy for his friend's silent agony. Though Alejandro hadn't said much outright, it was painfully clear that guilt was gnawing at him from within.

Alejandro stared intently at the man lying on the bed, consumed by an internal storm of anger and self-reproach. The cult's atrocities enraged him beyond measure, but what hurt most was his own perceived failure. Every breath he took was laced with the bitter taste of remorse, along with the incessant 'ifs' that haunted him.

If only he had stopped him.

If only he hadn't gone alone. 

If only he’d been there to help him.

If only he'd protected him.

If only he'd done something, anything.

By now, he would not be standing with his hands covered in the man's blood and with anguish gnawed at his insides. The weight of failure crushed him, having let everyone down, both as a leader and as a friend.

'𝑰𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆,' he thought, a bitter sob hitching in his throat. '𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕.'

Gaz felt a deep sense of helplessness and frustration clawing at him. He wanted to shake Alejandro, make him understand that it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't find the words. They stuck in his throat, choked by uncertainty and pain. The only thing he could do was finish the spell as fast as possible, even though the room's stifling atmosphere seemed to press down on him like an invisible hand, suffocating him with his own thoughts as well. He would have liked to say something to him, a word of comfort, but he didn't know what to say, but there were those who could do it better than anyone else, and luckily, he was there with them.

“It's not your fault, mi cariño,” Rudy said softly as he rose from the floor. He placed a reassuring hand on Alejandro's shoulder while gently removing the blood-soaked shirt with the other, setting it aside without concern.

“But—” Alejandro began to protest, but Rudy silenced him with a finger raised to his lips.

“No buts. We couldn't have known they had grown so powerful in such a short time; they probably used the other girls as a source of power when they realized they weren't her.” Rudy cast a determined glance towards Gaz, signalling for him to continue the spellwork. Immediately focused again, Gaz began arranging on the floor various objects he had finished preparing on the desk.

“We became stronger too,” Rudy continued softly yet firmly, resting his forehead against Alejandro's and locking eyes with him. “No somos lo que éramos, ¿entiendes?” He cupped Alejandro’s cheeks tenderly between his hands. 

“Our magic is amplifying every day. We grow stronger through our own strength, not by shortcuts or dirty means like sacrifices.” His voice was filled with conviction and warmth. “And, if it wasn’t for you tracking him down with your magic, he'd still be their prisoner now.” Rudy pointed toward the unconscious man on the bed. “They would have tortured him to find out if she was with us, and we know he would have got himself killed rather than betray us.” 

“So don't blame yourself for this, mi amor,” Rudy implored earnestly. “¿Lo juras?” His eyes bore deeply into Alejandro. 

“Sí, mi amor,” Alejandro sighed deeply in response. He took Rudy’s hands gently into his own and kissed each knuckle tenderly before placing a long affectionate kiss on Rudy’s ring. “Te lo juro.”

“Bien,” Rudy replied with a smile before kissing tenderly Alejandro deeply. He then turned towards Gaz who had finished preparing everything. 

On the floor etched with chalk was a large circle that occupied almost the whole room, with runes and intricate symbols within it. Unlit candles had been placed around it. Scattered within it were various objects, animal bones meticulously arranged on each rune, and vials filled with strange luminescent substances of various colours, the contents of which seemed to pulsing and shift as though alive. 

“Gaz, get me a knife,” Rudy demanded, rolling up his sleeve.

“Ale, move him and lay him down in the circle. Be careful not to drop the candles or move the objects,” Rudy instructed, his voice steady but tense. Alejandro nodded resolutely and gingerly took the unconscious man from the bed into his arms. He moved carefully across the room and gently laid him down right in the middle of the circle, being meticulously careful where he stepped.

“I got it!” Gaz shouted breathlessly as he hurried back into the room, clutching a knife tightly in his hand. In another time, Rudy would have berated him for running with such a dangerous object, by pulling him by the ear as their master did. But now was not that time. 

“Take your places,” Rudy commanded softly but firmly. Alejandro and Gaz positioned themselves around the circle, their faces reflective of both fear and determination. “Now we begin the ritual.”

Rudy took a moment to meet their gazes, ensuring they understood what was at stake. “What we are about to do is something we've never dared before,” he said gravely. “We will call upon ancient spirits for strength, a dangerous endeavour that could attract malevolent entities. But we must succeed if we are to heal him.”

He paused for a heartbeat before continuing, “And remember, as soon as Gaz completes his part, we must act swiftly lest the spirits claim his soul.”

Alejandro and Gaz gave a firm nod drenched in adrenaline as their hearts raced faster than ever. Rudy held his breath and sliced into his forearm in one swift motion. Pain flared through him, but he ignored it; blood welled up from the wound and began to drip onto the circle below.

“𝙈𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙄 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙪𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙪𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙.”

In an instant, the circle was illuminated with a faint, ethereal white light, and one by one, the candles began to light on their own, casting an eerie glow. Shadows danced on the walls, twisting and warping, transforming the room into an endless abyss. Darkness enveloped them and the space seemed to become infinite, lit only by the flickering candle flames.

Rudy passed the knife, cleaning it off his blood, to Alejandro. He made the same motion, making a cut on his forearm, the warm blood flowing freely. Instead of dripping onto the circle, the crimson droplets fell directly onto the bones, staining them a deep red. 

“𝘼𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨, 𝙄 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙤𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙪𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙮 𝙗𝙮 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙝.”

The sound of crunching bones reverberated through the darkness, sending shivers down their spines. The bones began to shake violently, emitting a red light. A sudden gust of wind swirled around them, carrying with it whispers of otherworldly voices. The spirits debated among themselves, some agreeing to the exchange, while others resisted. Energy surged from the bones, flowing into the circle and causing it to glow an ominous red.

This time, it was Alejandro's turn to give the knife to Gaz, wiping his blood-streaked knife on his shirt. Gaz took the blade with a solemn nod, exhaling deeply to steady his nerves. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind of all distractions. When an image formed in his thoughts, he raised the knife and carefully carved a rune into the palm of his hand, wincing from the pain but remaining focused.

“𝘼𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙍𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙥 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖.”

The candle flames flickered wildly, as if moved by an unseen force. The runes inscribed on the ground lifted themselves, hovering above them and slowly rotating in a circle. Gaz opened his eyes and reached out his blood-covered hand. Touching the same rune he had engraved on his palm, and it responded by glowing brightly at his touch.

“𝙍𝙪𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡, 𝙄 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧”

The rune in front of Gaz was absorbed into the incision on his palm, illuminating the wound and healing it instantly, leaving behind only a rune shaped scar. Now that he could use the rune's power, all three immediately sprang into action.

“NOW!” Rudy's voice boomed, filled with urgency, as he extended both hands toward the circle.

“𝙈𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙊𝙊𝙉, 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙂𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙀, 𝘿𝙍𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝘼𝙒𝘼𝙔 𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙇!”

A shimmering barrier formed around them, its surface crackling with energy. Malevolent spirits swarmed outside, their sinister auras pressing against the barrier, threatening to break through. But Alejandro was ready. He crouched, placing his hands on the circle and drawing in a deep breath before beginning his chant.

“𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙄𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙎𝙋𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙎, 𝙋𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙀𝙉𝙀𝙍𝙂𝙔 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙐𝙎, 𝙎𝙏𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙂𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙈𝘼𝙂𝙄𝘾!”

Using the spirits' energy, he channelled an intense surge into Rudy's spell, amplifying its force beyond natural limits. The evil spirits screamed in rage, their cries reverberating through the very fabric of the room, but despite their furious resistance, they were expelled completely. The haunting echoes of their anger diminished until only silence remained. A palpable relief washed over them all; they were now safe, no longer having to worry about the evil spirits getting in their way. 

And now, everything rested in Gaz's hands. Praying it would all work out, as his was the most complicated part of the ritual.

Gaz stepped nervously into the circle, his breath shaky with both determination and fear. He knelt beside the man lying motionless on the ground, his hand glowing faintly with the engraved rune. 

“𝙍𝙪𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙨 𝙄 𝙖𝙨𝙠,” Gaz's voice echoed in the surrounding air. Suddenly, the man's body began to glow with a soft green hue. Gaz stole one last glance at Rudy and Alejandro; their silent presence gave him support. With a deep breath, he shut his eyes and began the incantation. 

“𝙍𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚. 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡. 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩.”

When Gaz finished intoning the incantation, the green light enveloping the man shifted to a warm gold, radiating a gentle heat that filled the room. Tiny white-gold particles appeared out of nowhere, floating gracefully before being drawn irresistibly towards the man's body. The eerie quiet of the room was pierced by the unmistakable sound of fractured bones joined together one by one. Blood seemed to flow backward from open wounds as if compelled by some unseen force; with each drop that returned to his veins, deep gashes sealed themselves slowly but surely.

In mere moments, as if time itself had been bent by their will, the man's body returned as before, save for scars, which would remind him of the event for the rest of his life. Now they could only wait for his soul to re-anchor itself within its corporeal vessel. 

Gaz exhaled in relief and stepped aside to rejoin Rudy and Alejandro, tension easing from his shoulders. They watched in awe as golden light was absorbed into healing skin; simultaneously, the protective magic circle began to fade away. The once brilliant barrier dissolved into nothingness, candles flickered out one by one, and encroaching shadows slunk back into corners from which they had emerged. The room transformed back into what seemed an ordinary communal bedroom.

The ritual had concluded.

“When do you think he will wake up?” Alejandro’s voice wavered through their shared exhaustion; weariness laced every syllable as he glanced at Rudy.

“I don't know, mi amor,” Rudy replied softly, “It's all up to him now. We can only stay here and watch over him.” Rudy moved closer to Alejandro, resting his head on his shoulder, seeking solace in his warmth and presence. He looked down at the man's body, his chest rising and falling, breathing softly as if he were simply having a nap. 

Rudy gave a small smile, his eyes glistening with nostalgia. When he was little, he always saw the man lying in the sun in his cat form, basking in the warm light and having a nap, while Alejandro was always glued to him, reading a book and learning new spells together. It was a serene scene that painted Rudy’s childhood memories. Gaz, the usual troublemaker who often holed up in his room secretly experimenting with new potions, would consistently end up with a scolding and a tug of the ear from their master, who had just returned from gathering herbs and flowers. Behind her back, with tiny delicate fingers clutching her skirt and looking at them in curiosity, was… 

“Well, for all I know,” Gaz began, interrupting Rudy's warm recollection. “The pussycat here could sleep for the whole week while we're busting our asses for him.” Gaz's voice was laced with amusement as he began to remove the ritual items, except for the vials that remained on the floor next to the man. “Although,” he added with a mischievous grin and a twinkle in his eye, “I wouldn't complain if someone bust my ass. In a good way, get it?” He winked playfully, eliciting a laugh from Alejandro and an exaggerated eye roll from Rudy.

“Gaz,” Rudy called him back sternly. “We get it, but now—”

“Who did you call a pussycat, sorry?” 

Suddenly, Gaz, Rudy, and Alejandro snapped their heads towards the direction of the voice and in unison shouted in surprise and delight.

“HORANGI!”

“Ah fuck! Don't shout; my poor ears! What does a cat have to do for some peace—UWAA!” Gaz and Alejandro launched themselves at Horangi like exuberant puppies greeting their master after ages apart. They tackled him to the ground in an enthusiastic hug reminiscent of rugby players making a tackle. In confusion, Horangi glanced quizzically towards Rudy, who remained still.

“Amigo,” said Alejandro through tear-filled eyes as he clung to Horangi’s arm. “Just know that you are no longer allowed to go anywhere alone, estúpido gato.”

“That's right,” chimed in Gaz between sobs of relief and laughter. “Stupid pussycat of my boots! I swear I'll put a fucking collar on you with a bell on it if you try to slip out somewhere else without us.”

“I can't tell if you guys are worried about me or angry—”

“BOTH!” shouted Gaz and Alejandro together before Horangi could finish his sentence.

“OK, you two—” Rudy intervened as he walked over to them. He gently pulled Alejandro and Gaz away from Horangi’s sides, though they seemed unwilling to let go. “Let him breathe, for God's sake!” he cried exasperatedly. 

“But Rudy—” Alejandro and Gaz started to protest, but their voices died in their throats at the sight of Rudy’s furious face. He was terrifying when he was like that. “Sorry,” they both mumbled, their gazes falling to the floor, unwilling to meet Rudy’s piercing eyes. Rudy snorted through his nose, his expression softening only slightly as he extended a hand to Horangi, who lay sprawled on the ground. “Thank you,” Horangi muttered as he gripped Rudy’s hand, pulling himself up.

“Do you remember what happened?” Rudy's voice was a gentle contrast to his earlier anger as he posed the question to Horangi.

“Just bits and pieces, not much really,” Horangi replied, scratching the back of his neck in frustration. “I remember… calling you, saying I had found one of the girls.” His eyes shut tight as a sudden wave of pain throbbed through his skull. He winced. “I could hear… Alejandro on the other end of the phone, warning me not to go alone… but I went anyway.” The fragmented memories played back in his mind like a silent film reel.

Images flickered before him: a girl darting through snowy alleys; the battle with a shadow demon; and then… Horangi's eyes snapped open wide in panic as realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. “How long has it been? Where is the girl?” His voice trembled as his hands clutched Rudy’s shoulders with desperate urgency. Rudy's silence sent chills down his spine.

“Where?” Horangi demanded again, this time with a steely determination that brooked no argument.

“Horangi,” Rudy tried to interject, but Horangi silenced him with a furious glare.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GIRL?!” he screamed, his breath coming in gasps as his nails dug into Rudy’s shoulders hard enough to draw blood.

Alejandro started forward to intervene but halted when he saw Rudy’s subtle gesture for him to stay put. Unflinching under Horangi's painful grip, Rudy slowly raised his hands to hold Horangi by the wrists. “I'm sorry,” was all he said.

The raw anguish in Rudy's eyes spoke volumes. Understanding hit Horangi like a sledgehammer. His body began to tremble uncontrollably; his legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed, clutching desperately at Rudy's legs. “No,” he whimpered, “not again.” Slowly, Rudy knelt and wrapped his arms around Horangi as sobs wracked his body and filled the silent room. 

Nearly an hour passed when Horangi stopped crying, his body trembling with residual sobs. Rudy had been by his side the whole time, comforting him with gentle caresses and offering Gaz's potions to help him regain his strength. With each sip, Horangi began to feel more grounded, as Rudy updated him on recent events. From how, he had a vision of what had happened to him when they had arrived at the place.

Alejandro, driven to the brink of exhaustion, had used his powers almost continuously for two days to track him down. The place where he had been taken prisoner had some sect disciples guarding it. Their encounter was nothing short of brutal; they fought and some had perished. Rudy managed to capture one of them, hoping to extract information about the girl's whereabouts. But all they got in return was a merely sneered at them and then suddenly he began to tremble, his eyes darkening unnaturally before spilling black liquid from every facial orifice, a gruesome display that eventually choked him.

The sect was apparently so scrupulous and loyal that they put a curse on themselves that would kill them instantly once caught.

'𝑨 𝒅𝒐𝒈'𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒔' thought Rudy as he witnessed the disturbing scene, with a sense of disgust towards them.

Alejandro, in between times, began to give Gaz a hand in putting the objects back in their place, cleaning the circle on the ground with a rag, all in the silence of the surrounding room. The storm outside had long since subsided, and only the faint whisper of the wind moving the branches of the trees remained.

“How much time do we have before the seal is broken?” Alejandro questioned with urgency in his voice, placing a rag next to an array of bottles on a bedside table, while Gaz sat pensively by the window.

“I can't tell,” Horangi answered with a conflicted sigh, glancing at the half-empty vial in his hand. “They haven't found her yet. Without her, they can't break the seal… and that's good.” He tilted his head back and drank every remaining drop of the potion before handing the empty vial back to Rudy. Despite Gaz's efforts to appear unconcerned by staying near the window, he shuddered involuntarily as an eerie chill clawed up his spine. He had a strange feeling but maybe being near the window was not a good idea in this cold, but still, he did not move from there.

“However,” Rudy interjected grimly as he placed the vial beside others on the table, “they’ve used other kidnapped girls for their magic rituals. Each attempt only strengthens them and brings them closer to finding her. And that’s bad.” Alejandro and Horangi nodded in solemn agreement; they knew all too well how strong their enemies had become, which only deepened their dread further.

Gaz remained silent, the strange feeling gnawing at his insides, as if something significant was unfolding beneath the surface. He didn't understand what it was. A resigned sigh escaped his lips as he contemplated getting up to make himself a cup of tea to ward off the chill creeping into his bones. As he rose from the pouf, movement outside the window caught his eye, momentarily obscured by drifting clouds.

'𝑰 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈,' he thought, though his gaze remained fixed on the window, tracking the languid movement of the cloud.

For an eerie heartbeat, the ambient noise outside seemed to swell, suffocating the room in an oppressive silence. His friends’ voices faded into muffled murmurs on the periphery of his awareness. Unconsciously, he tuned out every other sound. But why? The cloud drifted away, revealing the moon. Gaz’s eyes widened in amazement as a gasp tore from his throat at the sight that unfolded before him.

'𝑶𝒉 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕,' was all his mind could muster.

“Uh… guys?” Gaz’s voice wavered but went unnoticed amidst their despondency. “Guys,” he tried again with more urgency, still nothing but silence. “Guys!” This time his call cracked through, drawing a tired response.

“What?” came Horangi's voice, still thick and raw from heavy sobbing. 

“You guys remember the nursery rhyme our master told us?” Gaz’s hand pressed against the moonlit glass, feeling its cool smoothness under his palm as the sky cleared entirely. His friends exchanged bewildered glances at Gaz’s odd question.

“Which one? The one about witches’ origins? The return of the Evil One? There are far too many to recount in one night,” Horangi replied wearily, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“The one where it said how we would know when they would meet. How it recited—”

“𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙚; 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙪𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙨, 𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩”

Rudy finished reciting with a reverence as if reading from a book. A faint sound of clapping hands broke through; he looked towards the source of the noise and was not surprised that it came from Alejandro, who gave him a little clap.

“Madre de Dios, I married an imbécil,” Rudy sighed, while Alejandro responded with a sheepish grin.

Turning away from his silly husband, Rudy addressed Gaz again. “Okay, now that you've heard it; can you tell us why you asked?” His voice carried tired patience but received no reply. Gaz seemed entranced by something beyond the window.

“Gaz?” Rudy called out to him again, his voice laced with a mix of concern and confusion. Only a small gesture from Gaz beckoned him to come closer. Rudy raised an eyebrow, not understanding, but took a step forward and approached him. Of course, Alejandro did too.

“Gaz? Dude, are you alright?” Horangi's worried voice broke through as he hurried to join them. The three of them stepped to his side, without speaking, Gaz slowly lifted a trembling finger toward the window, pointing at the night sky. Their heads turned in unison toward the window, and nothing in the world they would have expected at what they saw.

“Mierda,” Alejandro gasped, his eyes wide and filled with shock.

“You took the words out of my mouth, man,” Gaz whispered, his voice barely audible over the thundering beat of his heart. 

“They—” Horangi’s voice faltered as he stared at the sight before them, frozen by disbelief.

“—Met,” Rudy finished in a hushed tone, his eyes glued to the celestial phenomenon above. After all these years of preparation for celebrating their return, but now, considering at the current circumstances of what was going on, amid the kidnapped girls, the cult, and the seal that was now more than likely to be broken. It seemed cruelly ironic that their long-awaited moment arrived now.

All four of them stood gazing at the sky, their breaths caught in their throats, and none of them could utter a word, incredulous at what they were witnessing. Yet it was right there in front of them, lighting up the night, as big as it had ever been, showing itself before them. Although it did not appear with its usual snow-white appearance, it still made them breathless with its otherworldly beauty.

𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙪𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙨𝙠𝙮, 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨, 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙣.

𝘼𝙣 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩…

… 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙣.

Chapter Text

It was a slightly unusual start to the weekend; walking through the woods in a fucking snowstorm, finding an unconscious and wounded dog buried under layers of snow, carrying him home in your arms, and tending to his cuts and bullet wounds. All of that, only to end up tackled to the ground by the same dog the next morning for some fucking… cuddles?

He certainly didn’t jump on him to rip him apart, right? Just a slightly grown-up dog who loves cuddles, and John’s going to give him as many as he wants to that furball.

John sighed, watching Ghost, who was now following him everywhere , not leaving him for even a second, his eyes never straying from John. Not that he had got attached to him, to be honest. His gaze was suspicious, almost distrustful, like he was studying every move John made, clearly not trusting him. Well, John couldn’t blame him, after everything he’d probably been through.

Sometimes, though, when Ghost looked at him with those amber eyes, John got a distinct feeling that he wasn’t dealing with a normal dog. Those eyes seemed too aware, too calculating , as if there was something behind that mask of fur and bones. Mysterious and strange. But, deep down, it wasn’t even the strangest thing he had seen lately. To be honest, the strange messages he kept getting from his friends almost every hour were proof enough of how… well, strange they were.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

John was in the kitchen, trying to feed the dog, or rather, attempting to, when the phone vibrated on the counter. “Bloody furball,” he muttered, as Ghost growled at every move he made. After yet another failed attempt, John threw his hands up in surrender and walked away, leaving a plate with ground meat, vegetables, and some chopped-up fruit on the floor. He had even improvised a bowl out of a plastic container filled with water.

With a sigh, he sat on the stool, grabbing the phone and throwing furtive glances at Ghost to see if he’d finally decide to eat.

Ale:

< Hey hermano, all good?

< It's been a while since we last spoke, how are you?

     Soap:

Hey Ale! All good amigo 😉👍

When are you and Rudy coming back from your honeymoon?

I miss you both so much 🥺

Ghost remained there, motionless, watching John intently, as if waiting for him to move or react while he typed on his phone. For a few minutes, neither of them made a move. Then, when Ghost realized that John wasn’t going to budge, he approached the food with an unnerving calmness.

He stopped in front of the plate, scrutinized it for a long moment, as if examining every detail, and finally raised his gaze to John with a sceptical expression, as if asking him: Is this what you call food?

John stared back at him, eyebrows raised, incredulous, unsure of how to feel. Offended, because a dog had criticized his food? Or perhaps insulted, considering it was a dog doing the criticizing? 

He rested his elbow on the counter, chin in the palm of his hand, and with the other hand, pointed to the plate on the floor. “Look, this is all I’ve got tae give ye, big boy,” he said, not taking his eyes off Ghost. “So dinnae blame me for putting together what I thought would do. And if there’s something ye dinnae like, just don’t eat it. Easy-peasy, right?” 

For a moment, Ghost remained silent, as if deep in thought. “If ye dinnae want it, I’ll go out and get ye a tin of dog food, if that’s more to yer likin’,” John added. But as he thought about it, how could he leave the house with all that snow? He’d need to call Horangi, who had a snowplough attached to his SUV, if he wanted to head into town.

But he didn’t want to disturb his friend so early, not to mention that he hadn’t heard from him in days. The only thing he knew was that only Alex could go see him to check how he was doing without risking infecting everyone at the café. But beyond that, he knew nothing more; he’d contact him later to ask how he was. 

John heard a puff of air, and when he looked at Ghost, his gaze was sharp, as if something John had said had offended him. “Fine, do what ye want, but dinnae complain if it’s not tae yer cuppa tea,” John said finally, looking back at Ghost. For a moment, it seemed like Ghost rolled his eyes. 

‘Who the hell thought taking care of a dog would be so difficult?’  John thought, rubbing his eyes, exhausted by all of this. God, he could really use a holiday from this damn holiday. Sighing, he turned back to the chat when he heard the—Ding—of a new message. 

Ale:  

< We were supposed to come back these days  

< But the flight was cancelled due to bad weather and has been postponed indefinitely  

     Soap:  

What? 😦 

Are you telling me I’ll have to stay alone with Gaz?  

Again?! 😱 

I won’t survive  

Ale:  

  < Don’t be so dramatic, hermano, how hard can it be to work with Gaz, come on  

     Soap:  

You don’t understand because you only want to work with Rudy 🙄

He’s calm, quiet, mature, and doesn’t tell ridiculous stories every five minutes! 🥲 😩

Gaz, on the other hand…

God, I don’t know if I can take another day of him telling ‘that’ story about the time he seduced a pub owner and earned himself free drinks for life 🤦‍♂️  

Look, if he starts again, I swear I’ll pretend to be sick just to go home

Don’t tell him I told you this, please 🙏

John, while still chatting with Alejandro, couldn’t help but keep an eye on Ghost. The dog had finally decided to approach the plate, sniffing cautiously before taking a small bite. He chewed slowly, as if evaluating every flavour. Then he swallowed, and John could clearly see his eyes widen in surprise. Without a second thought, Ghost dived in for another bite, then another, devouring the food with insatiable hunger, as if he hadn’t eaten in days.   

 John hoped that wasn’t the case; that it was just because Ghost had lost so much blood and now needed to eat to regain his strength. Still, seeing that fierce hunger tugged a little at his heart. 

Ale:  

< Callado como una tumba 🪦 

Alejandro kept texting him, sending more messages that John didn’t reply to. He was too lost in thought to notice how the messages became increasingly insistent. The only sounds in the kitchen, aside from the faint buzz of incoming messages, were the wet, frantic bites of Ghost devouring his meal with a ravenous intensity. John glanced at him, wondering how he didn’t choke with the speed at which he was shovelling food into his mouth. 

“Ye're enjoyin’ that, are ye?” John muttered, more to himself than to Ghost, fully aware he wouldn’t get a reply. For a moment, his gaze lingered on the bandages covering Ghost’s body, fresh and still visible, and the thought of who had caused those wounds made him grit his teeth. Whoever they were, they deserved to pay the price. 

John couldn’t stop himself; the anger was growing inside him; a fire that fed every time he imagined what Ghost had had to endure. The more he thought about it, the more the hatred grew, turning into something he could no longer stop. Like a fire that, instead of consuming him, illuminated a dark corner within him, revealing a side he hadn’t known, one that had remained dormant until now.

And that side emerged. 

The voice grew deeper, enveloping every thought.

At those words, something in John snapped, and the words escaped his mouth before he could even realise what he was doing.

“Hellfire, find the sinner. Consume theirs flesh and let them vanish into ash upon the wind. May their souls be dragged into eternal torment, screaming for eternity.”

The words spilled from his lips like a venomous whisper, weighted with a darkness that seemed to come from somewhere far away, distant and unknown. Soap froze, a prickling sensation crawling up his spine and settling at the base of his neck as his heart hammered against his ribcage, desperate to escape. 

He frowned, confused. ‘What the hell did I just say?’ A cold shiver ran through him. Those words didn’t even feel like his. They were something other, a distant echo that had found its voice through him. 

He shook his head as if to dispel the intrusive thought. But the weight of those words lingered; a shadow that had seeped into his core, leaving him questioning whether it was truly his anger or—ding-ding-ding**  

Ale:  

< Soap?  

< You still there, amigo?  

     Soap:  

Sorry, Ale 😅  

I got caught up in a few things and didn’t hear the messages  

Just a bit lost in thought about something, that's all  

Ale:  

< About something?  

< Wait, do you feel strange by any chance?  

< How can I put it… different?  

John frowned at the question. Feel strange? Well, what just happened could definitely be counted as the strangest thing he’d ever done. 

But different? Doesn't even know what to say. 

     Soap:  

Different?

No, same as always 💥💪💥  

Ale:  

< You sure?  

< No headaches?  

< Fever?  

< Any pain anywhere?  

< Eating well?  

< Sleeping enough?  

< Not feeling too hot, too cold, or more tired than usual?  

< If you’re not feeling right, you have to tell me, hermano.  

< I can call you if you want.  

< Don’t try to hide it if you feel strange.  

Ding-Ding-Ding-Ding—the phone vibrated non-stop, but John hesitated for a moment before reading the latest messages. Alejandro wasn’t usually this persistent, and it gave him a vague sense of unease. ‘Why is he being so insistent?’  

John frowned, his gaze shifting between the phone and Ghost, who was watching him from across the room, amber eyes intense and piercing. That nagging feeling of discomfort didn’t leave him, sitting heavy on his chest. Was it just Alejandro being overly worried, or was there something he didn’t know? 

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to shake off the creeping anxiety. ‘I’m fine,’ he thought, clenching his jaw. Yet the reflection in the black screen of his phone showed a face more tense than usual, as if his subconscious knew something he didn’t. 

Maybe he was just overthinking it.

John shrugged, then stood up and stretched, trying to focus on something practical like making coffee or tidying up the kitchen. But his gaze kept drifting back to the phone, unable to shake the feeling that something was off. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: ‘Alejandro isn’t the type to worry this much; unless it’s about Rudy. So, what’s changed?’  

He decided to text him, not wanting to ignore him and make him worry even more. But as his fingers hovered over the keyboard, he paused for a moment, his thumb suspended above the keys, as if part of him didn’t want to respond. 

‘Are you sure you’re not just trying to convince yourself that everything’s fine?’  

The voice of his subconscious, which in moments like this would rise to torment and mock him , whispered in his mind, soft yet at the same time cutting, like a flame that, in the darkness, revealed fragments of a hidden truth; a part of himself that John kept buried, refusing to admit it, but which his subconscious kept bringing to the surface, never forgetting to remind him of its existence. 

‘You know it too, don’t you?’ The voice continued, cold and cruel. ‘In the end… you’ll always end up suffering.’  

John closed his eyes, and with a resigned sigh, he opened them again and started typing, ignoring the voice that tormented him. 

     Soap:  

Ale, I’m fine. No fever, no aches, nothing weird 😅  

If I weren’t okay, I'd say so  

And I don't want to get lectured by Rudy or see Gaz's disappointed looks again  

Come on, you need to relax, Ale. I’ve got everything under control 😉👍  

Ale:  

< Ok  

< But if you start feeling strange,  

< reach out to one of us.  

The conversation ended there. John stared at the screen for a moment, his finger nervously toying with the little soap-shaped charm on his phone, making its way back and forth as though trying to dispel an uncomfortable thought. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, leaving him with a strange sensation that lingered in his mind, as though Alejandro’s questions had a deeper purpose. 

He forced himself to shake his head, the charm still swaying between his fingers, but the weight of that thought remained; a shadow that refused to dissipate, making him feel as though he was overlooking something important, something he couldn’t afford to ignore.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The day was coming to an end, and several hours had passed since his conversation with Alejandro. Since then, he'd only heard from him through the occasional message, just brief check-ins to see how his day was going. Though short, those messages had a strange undertone, but John convinced himself Alejandro was probably just stressed out about the whole cancelled flight situation. It was a plausible explanation. 

And yet… that nagging sense of something unsaid kept gnawing at his mind.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

John was in his study, tending to the bite on his wrist. His hands were steady but gentle as he carefully removed the old bandage, still stained with yesterday's fresh blood. Ghost observed him from afar, from the living room, motionless like a statue. His white fur was illuminated by the warm, golden light of the fireplace behind him, giving his coat a soft ashen-blonde hue. 

John opened the drawer beside him and took out a small metal box containing ointment. Dipping his finger into it, he applied a layer delicately to the wound. The motion was precise, almost automatic, as if it were a normal routine. Once finished, he paused for a moment, staring at the bite. The skin around it was still swollen and red, but the important thing was that there were no signs of infection. 

“At least Ah ken ye dinnae have rabies, big boy,” he said with a short laugh, his smile widening when Ghost rolled his eyes, huffing and looking away as if to ignore the joke. John chuckled again, but as he reached down to grab the gauze, a slight spasm of pain shot through his wrist. 

He paused for a moment, clenching his teeth slightly at the discomfort. It was a sharp, persistent ache that made itself known with every movement. But it wasn’t unbearable, nothing new. Over time, he had learned to live with it, relegating it to a corner of his mind, an inconvenient but familiar companion. Once healed, it would leave a scar, a mark that would remain on his skin for life. Another one to add to the long list. 

Not that it would make much difference on skin already etched with countless scars, still painfully vivid and carved into his soul. 

‘But this one’s different,’ John thought, a faint smile forming as he began wrapping the wound with care. This scar was proof that he’d saved a life, and he’d do it another hundred times if he had to. 

The others, however, were different. Each one left for a reason he still couldn’t fully understand, while others were inflicted as a warning of what would happen if he dared to rebel again. A reminder that there was always a punishment if he dared to be himself instead of what he was told to be. 

The reasons were always different, but it was always the same hand that inflicted them. A hand he had never forgotten, not even now, as the thought slid under his skin like a thin blade; the hand of his f—Ding*  

The sound of his phone vibrating on the desk pulled him from his thoughts. A subtle but incisive sound that seemed to tear through the silence of the room. John slowly raised his gaze from his wrist, his eyes settling on the phone as its screen lit up with a new notification. 

🔔 New message from Rudy  

< Hey hombre, everything okay at home? 

John reached out, careful not to drop the gauze on the floor as he grabbed the phone. With a soft sigh, he picked it up and unlocked the display, immediately noticing another notification. 

Rudy:  

< Did anything particularly strange or unusual happen while we were gone?  

‘Particularly strange or unusual?’ John wondered, frowning as he fiddled with a scrap of gauze between his fingers.

Well, aside from the appearance of some strange fucking cult going around killing young women who, for some bizarre reason, share certain characteristics, at least according to Gaz. Or the sudden snowstorm, or the fact he found a dying dog that now lives under his roof. Nothing else came to mind that could be particularly strange or unusual. 

‘Aye, really nothin’.’ John concluded. 

     Soap:  

Nothing that caught my eye  

Why, did something happen?  

Rudy:  

< No, nothing  

     Soap:  

Are you sure?  

Rudy:  

< Yes, don’t worry about anything  

That answer didn’t convince him. He didn’t know why, but ever since he could remember, he always knew when something was off with people. A strange behaviour, a voice tone that betrayed something, or those looks that seemed too intense, as if they were trying to tell him something without words. And now that feeling that something had happened, combined with Rudy and Ale’s messages, only amplified it. 

‘Somethin' definitely happened, and he’s nae tellin' me,’ John thought, rolling the gauze roll across the desk until it bumped into a small vase with a wilting plant, which caused a small lump to form in his throat. Being away from home for a month, he hadn’t been able to take care of most of the plants.

It was a shame. His seanmhair loved taking care of plants and had passed that passion down to him, and he particularly loved this one because, out of all, violets were his seanmhair's favourite. 

John put his elbow on the desk and rested his head on his hand. As he thought distractedly, he began to touch the wilting petals of the plant, his fingers gently gliding over each petal, as if the action could bring them back to life. 

‘The last time he did this was because that bastard wouldn’t leave him alone for even a fuckin' second,’ he thought. ‘That bastard.’ He repeated, and in his mind, gears started turning as a name formed. 

“That fuckin' piece o' shite.” he growled, a wave of anger passing through his body. 

Ghost, lying in the living room, perked up an ear, attentive to every sound, and raised an eyebrow, his expression one that could have been interpreted as a question. His amber eyes never left John, catching every subtle change in him. 

Without thinking twice, John grabbed the phone and immediately sent a message to Rudy. 

     Soap: 

Got it  

Rudy:  

< What?  

     Soap:  

Fuck Rudy, I’ve known you for a long time  

You’re basically like a brother to me  

And I know when you’re hiding something from me  

Rudy:  

< Sorry, but what do you mean? 😅  

     Soap:  

That dickhead Graves did something new, didn’t he?  

Rudy:  

< Wait what?  

John stared at the phone screen, his fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the desk. If Rudy’s intention was to keep quiet to avoid making him worry, then he got the reaction he wanted. 

He wasn’t worried. 

He was furious. 

     Soap:  

I swear that when I see him, I’m shoving a police siren right up that fucking Yankee’s ass 💥🚨➡️🍑🤬  

Rudy:  

< Espera, hombre  

< Cálmate un segundo  

     Soap:  

Cálmate ?  

Rudy, I’m pissed as fuck if you didn’t get it  

And calming down is the last fucking thing on my mind  

Rudy:  

< OK, but now you’re mad and can’t think clearly  

< And if I told you something right now, you wouldn’t take it seriously, would you?  

< So in cases like these, I want to remind you of what your abuela used to say  

< Anger attracts negative energy and blinds us, making us do things we don’t really want to  

John read the last word, knowing Rudy was right; when he was angry, he stopped thinking. He didn’t see his friends—his family, who cared for him. He was too blinded by rage to notice those around him. The only thing he felt, the only thing he experienced, was an uncontrollable hatred, but not towards others, towards himself.

Because in those moments, John saw reflected in himself someone he wanted to forget, someone who had been dead for a long time but still haunted him as if they were still alive. 

‘What did you expect?’ His subconscious voice returned to torment him, mocking him, never letting him be at peace. ‘After all, the apple never falls far from the tree.’ A bitter feeling worked its way into his throat, like a sour taste mixed with those words, both false and true for him, hard to swallow. 

John shook his head, it wasn’t the time to get depressed, so he continued reading the rest of the message, trying to push unwanted thoughts away. 

Rudy:  

< And what else did she say we should do when we’re angry?  

“Take a deep breath and clear yer mind of any negative thoughts, and transform that energy into somethin' useful,” John muttered to himself, mimicking the patient tone his seanmhair used when speaking to him. Gripping the phone in his hand, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. 

That strange voice came back again, sweet and familiar, like a reassuring whisper. John closed his eyes and took another breath. 

The voice seemed to guide him, telling him what to do, like an echo flowing through his mind. And John didn’t know why, but something inside him urged him to listen, and he did. 

He felt the fire of his anger within him begin to subside as he took a breath, and it seemed to be working, calming his fury, and now he felt that energy shift. It was no longer anger or hatred, but something else he couldn’t explain, something good.

John’s fingers, still brushing over the wilting petals of the flower, stopped. The words resonated in his mind, but he didn’t know what to do. He only knew the flower needed care to return to the beauty it once had. However, even with all the help he could give, he knew the flower was dead now. There was nothing more he could do. 

The voice whispered, enveloping him like a comforting caress. 

Insisted, sweet but firm, like a distant echo.

Soap stared at the wilted flower in the vase, his eyes tracing the outlines of the faded petals. Slowly, an image began to form in his mind; the plant in all its glory. The sun’s rays illuminated its petals in deep violet, vibrant and alive, like a painting with fresh colours.

He could almost smell the sweet, delicate fragrance it gave off, a scent that reminded him of the days when his seanmhair cared for plants with infinite love. 

Something moved inside him. A new, unknown sensation flowed slowly, like a stream seeping into every corner, spreading throughout his body. He felt it travel down his arms, sliding through his nerves like a pulsating energy, reaching his hands. 

His fingers began to tingle, warmth radiating under his fingertips, soft but insistent, as if something was trying to emerge. His fingertips touched each petal in a caress, and that warmth seemed to stay on them, like an invisible trace of life trying to transfer itself. 

Ding*  

John blinked, the sudden sound breaking his strange concentration. He turned his gaze away from the flower, confused. He didn’t even remember what he had been doing. He was touching the plant, yes… but why?  

Another—ding—vibrated the phone on the wooden desk. John took a deep breath and then grabbed the phone, glancing at the message. 

Rudy: 

< ¿Calmado?  

John sighed, feeling every muscle in his body relax, the anger now just a memory that faded with each breath. Yeah, now he was definitely calm. 

     Soap:  

Yeah, Calmado  

Rudy:  

< Good, now can I speak and clear up whatever your stupid mind made you think?  

     Soap:  

💬  

Yeah  

But my mind’s not stupid  

Rudy:  

< 😑  

     Soap:  

What?  

Rudy:  

< Forget it  

< Anyway, nothing really happened  

< Not with Graves bothering me or doing anything  

< Nothing’s wrong at all  

< Well, except for that flight thing you already know about 😅  

     Soap:

Are you sure?  

I can always put a laxative in his coffee if he’s bugging you again 👍  

Rudy:  

< Thanks for the thought, hombre  

< But I don’t want that bastard making a mess on the floor because he can’t hold it  

A small smile touched John’s lips, curving them sideways as an image of Graves dealing with his little incident formed vividly in his mind. Damn, he’d love to immortalize that scene on one of those big billboards along the highway, just to show everyone his shitty figure. Literally.  

       Soap:  

God, if it got filmed by the cameras, I’d post it right away 🤣🤣🤣  

Anyway, don’t worry, Rudy  

Rudy:  

< ?  

     Soap:  

I’ve already thought about 😇😉👍  

Rudy:  

< I'm afraid to ask  

     Soap:  

I'd buy some laxatives that work slowly  

So he'd have time to stain the seats of his car or the chairs at the police station with brown 😈💩  

Rudy:  

< Okay, I better leave before you come up with any other strange ideas  

     Soap:  

Are you sure? I haven’t even told you the best part!  

About how I’d set up a discount for the cops, so when half the station shows up at the coffee shop  

They can watch Graves soil his underwear 😆👍  

Rudy:  

< Dios mío…  

John laughed and turned off the phone, putting it in his pocket. He got up from the chair and carefully put everything he had used to tend to the wound back in its place: the gauze, scissors, and ointment went into their respective spots, while the blood-soaked gauze and cotton pieces went straight into the trash bin beside the desk. 

“Alright, done.” John took a satisfied breath, hands on his hips. The office was perfectly neat, and before turning off the lights and leaving, he grabbed a bottle of painkillers, just in case the pain got unbearable. 

When he reached the door, he took one last glance at the office. Something caught his attention: the plant on the desk seemed to have more vivid petals than the faded colour it had before. But maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. 

He turned off the lights and went straight to bed. Another day was over.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Silent footsteps followed every movement, invisible like a shadow. Ghost observed from a distance, following him up the stairs. Throughout the day, this human had acted strangely at times, as if he wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing at that moment. His actions, often distracted, left behind a sense of confusion that Ghost couldn’t decipher.

And when it happened, he felt the hairs on his fur rise, a strange chill running through his body, and his inner wolf standing at attention. 

It was a feeling he recognized, one he only felt when someone or something invoked magic. But when he looked at him in those moments, all he saw was a vacant stare, as if his mind was elsewhere, in another place. Yet, there was no trace of magic, no residue lingering in the air around them, leaving him uneasy and without answers. 

Something seemed off with this human, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. And he certainly couldn’t trust him so lightly, not when every time he was close, he felt strange, as if his inner wolf howled with happiness, yet complained about Ghost keeping his distance. At this point, he was starting to think he couldn’t trust his wolf either, because it had taken Herculean effort not to make his tail wag every time this human looked at him and smiled. 

For now, the best choice was to continue watching this human with the pleasant scent from a distance. 

Chapter Text

After the chat with Rudy, John spent the whole night hunting down the right kind of products to create… let’s say—unfortunate accidents. A subtle revenge, something to keep to himself, but it made him smile. A small payback for every time the prick had fucked around with him and his friend's.

After all, who deserved it more than that scum, if not to drown in their own shit?

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

John ran a hand over his mouth, stifling a yawn, before returning to the sink to finish washing the dishes. The sound of running water and the gentle clinking of plates against the basin filled the kitchen, creating a pleasant calm.

A sly smile tugged at his lips as he noticed that Ghost had, once again, devoured every single bite without leaving even a crumb behind. The thought that his cooking had been enjoyed gave him a small sense of pride, like a personal victory.

Ghost stood on the other side of the kitchen, just behind him, always keeping a discreet but consistent distance. Despite the quiet enveloping them, there was something different in the air. John couldn’t tell if it was just his imagination or if Ghost had genuinely moved a step—or rather—a paw closer than before. His presence felt more tangible, like a shadow creeping nearer without ever truly revealing itself.

Ding.*

Ghost’s ears twitched instinctively at the sound, and John raised his head, immediately glancing at his phone. The screen lit up with a name he didn’t recognize.

🔔 New message from Mother Hen🐓🥚

< Ehy!

Who the hell calls themselves that? he thought, frowning in confusion. Then, almost immediately, he gave himself a mental slap, remembering he hadn’t yet changed Gaz’s nickname. Grabbing a cloth, he dried his hands quickly before renaming Mother Hen to Gaz.

Gaz:

< What’s my favourite buddy up to? 😊

< Everything good?

OK, a'm feel like I've lived this scene before. John thought, raising an eyebrow as a brief huff, almost a restrained laugh, escaped his lips.

      Soap:

Everything’s good, and you? 💥😉👍💥😉👍💥

With all that snow from last night, I think you’ll be busy shoveling it, right?

Gaz:

< Man, you don’t know how much

< I’ve had snow up to my ass since this morning 😩 and I still have to finish because I’ve got no one here to help me 🥲

< …

< How about staying here for another week? 😇

      Soap:

Help you out and end up with snow up my ass like you? 

No thanks 😇

Gaz:

< What an ingrate

< Keep this up and you’ll be alone for life

      Soap:

Well, you know what they say

Better alone than in bad company 😉👍

Gaz:

< Do whatever you want, you don’t know what you’re missing 😤

John burst out laughing and stuffed the phone into his pocket, shaking his head with an amused smile. Then he refocused, beginning to carefully put everything in order. With an almost distracted motion, he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long, heavy sigh as he dried the last dishes and put them in the cupboard.

It wasn’t even 2 p.m. yet, and he already felt exhausted, as if he had just hiked the Highlands with a backpack full of stones. The fatigue weighed on him like a boulder, every movement seemed to take more effort than usual. He paused for a moment, his hands resting on the edge of the table, trying to shake off that overwhelming feeling.

He was dead tired, maybe he shouldn’t have spent almost the whole night scrolling through his phone doing some research because now he was fucking tired. He needed something strong to wake him up, and in moments like this, there was only one thing that could help. A steaming cup of coffee, strong enough to wake the dead.

John slowly made his way to his studio, where he kept his coffee bean stash. He didn’t notice that Ghost was silently moving behind him, almost like a shadow, watching every movement with attention.

Ghost stopped in the doorway, observing the room that looked like an old greenhouse turned into a studio. The large glass and wooden windows let in a warm light, enveloping the room in an intimate, welcoming atmosphere. His eyes fell on an easel, surrounded by brushes and scattered paint on a small table, while paintings of various sizes were leaning or hanging around, creating an almost artistic mess.

Ghost approached, his gaze wandering from the artistic chaos to the rest of the room. The smell of dried herbs came from a wall where bundles of plants hung neatly, accompanied by shelves full of glass jars. Some contained dark liquids, others fragment of plants carefully preserved.

His eyes landed on a desk, the same one where this human had bandaged his arm the day before. As he drew closer, he noticed a few scattered books; botany and natural medicine, if the titles were any indication.

But what truly caught his attention was a small pot placed on the side of the desk. A violet in full bloom, its vivid and delicate petals seemed to have just blossomed.

When he heard the sound of the cabinet doors opening, his gaze returned to that human, who was opening a glass cupboard to grab a metal container. Ghost took a few steps closer, watching as he filled a small grinder and began grinding the beans.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the room, pungent and rich, causing Ghost to wrinkle his nose slightly in a faint grimace. When the human finished grinding the last bean, carefully picking up the container before heading to the kitchen. Ghost moved silently behind him, like a shadow, watching every move without being noticed.

When John reached the coffee machine, he filled the water jug, pouring it into the reservoir with precise, automatic movements. With automatic gestures, he measured the ground coffee, letting the intense aroma fill his nostrils. He started the machine, the familiar gurgling sound filling the room, blending with the crackling of the fire from the living room.

The combination of that sound and aroma had something almost therapeutic about it, a reminder of normalcy that helped him bear the weight of a day that seemed like it would never end.

As the coffee slowly dripped into the glass pot, John rested his hands on the kitchen counter, his gaze drifting out the window. Snowflakes continued to fall slowly, covering everything with a soft, white blanket.

Maybe ah should shovel the driveway too. He thought for a moment, but the image of Gaz struggling with the shovel, awkwardly slipping to the ground, made him laugh. He shook his head, chuckling to himself.'Later.' He told himself, a relaxed smile lighting up his face, easing the exhaustion etched on his features.

Ding*

John pulled his gaze from the window, his phone on the counter behind him suddenly ringing again. It was only then, as he quickly turned to grab it, that he noticed it. A barely visible figure in the dim light between the kitchen and living room, with amber eyes glowing in the darkness.

John’s heart skipped a beat before speeding up slightly.

“Jesus wept!” he snapped, hand to his chest. “Ghost! Yer tryin' tae give me a fuckin' heart attack?”

Ghost stepped out of the shadow and huffed, John could have sworn the dog had just stifled a laugh, hidden behind that brief and almost imperceptible breath, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed an amusement he couldn’t hide. “Fucking numpty,” Soap muttered under his breath, clenching his fists in a gesture of frustration.

'Did he dae that on purpose?' He thought incredulously, his mouth open in a mix of surprise and irritation.

John wanted to say something, but just at that moment, his phone rang again with a new notification. His eyes quickly flicked to the phone, seeing the name flashing on the screen—Gaz. He reached for the phone and unlocked it, reading the message.

Gaz:

< Anyway, speaking of being alone…

< Any updates lately? 😏

Soap furrowed his brows, confused by the question. 'What does he mean?'  He scratched his head, as if that gesture might suddenly unlock the answer, but he couldn’t figure it out. Better to ask the source directly, rather than keep racking his brain over something he couldn’t understand.

      Soap:

What do you mean by ‘updates’?

He didn’t wait long for a response, as if Gaz already had one ready. It seemed strange—no . Suspicious, very suspicious.

Gaz:

< Have you met anyone new recently?

< Come on, you can tell me 😉

'Someone?'  John raised an eyebrow, his gaze puzzled as he watched the message blink on the phone screen. 'What the hell is he rambling about?'

Someone—new? His mouth twisted into a grimace of displeasure. The question seemed as absurd as it was stupid. 'I think all those falls have really fucked up his brain.' Was the only conclusion he could come up with.

      Soap:

Gaz, for God's sake 🤦

I spent a whole month at your place, remember??

And don’t tell me you think I started having secret meetings

Gaz:

< …

< Did you? 🤨

      Soap:

What the hell do you have for brains, a pile of shit?

You would’ve definitely noticed if I did, considering how nosy you are, right?

Gaz:

< Hey, I’m not nosy!

      Soap:

Wow

Are you really offended by that and not by the shit part? 😒💨

Bip*

John looked up from his phone, drawn to the familiar sound of the coffee machine signalling the end of the brew. He slowly stood up, heading toward the counter behind him to grab a mug. With a smooth motion, he grabbed the carafe and poured himself a drink.

Meanwhile, Ghost watched him from the shadowy kitchen, his eyes fixed on him with a curious expression, amused not only by his movements but also by the strange expressions and gestures John made while chatting. Every little thing this human did seemed to fascinate Ghost, and that curiosity completely captivated him.

Ding*

John didn’t have time to bring the mug to his lips when the phone vibrated again with a message. He sighed, setting the still-steaming cup down on the counter, grabbing his phone, swearing to God that if Gaz wrote another dumb thing, he would strangle him.

Gaz:

< Look, I’m just in a hurry for my best friend not to die lonely and sad

< That’s all 😤

< And anyway, who’s to say you haven’t met someone near your place and want to keep a hot guy all to yourself?

'A’ll kill him.'  Thought John, gripping the phone like it was Gaz’s neck. His expression grew more and more furrowed, eyebrows knitted together as he got lost in thought, imagining the best way to kill him and make it look like a terrible accident.

      Soap:

First of all, you ARE nosy

Second, you're the one talking, you've been single for so long that by now you'll have cobwebs down there 🕸🕸

Third, I live in the middle of the fucking woods

Who the hell can I meet here, other than some wild animal??

And fourth, if I did meet this ‘hot guy’ you speak of, I’d keep him to myself

Because you’re a SLUT who drools over the first alpha male you see 😒

Gaz:

< EHY! THAT’S NOT TRUE!

< It’s not my fault that when men see me, they fall at my feet, because I’m an attractive and charming guy 😌

< And besides, I have excellent taste!

< I like big, strong, mature men, and nowadays, it’s hard to find them

< Especially here, where there are only old decrepit men! 😩

      Soap:

Really? 🤨

Didn’t seem that way the last time with that guy

Gaz:

< God, don’t make me remember

< It was a mistake due to alcohol

< And it won’t happen again!

      Soap:

I doubt it

Gaz:

 < You’ll see!

When John read the last message, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, leaning on the counter with one hand while the other tapped on the surface.

Ghost lifted his gaze, drawn to the sound and movement. He tilted his head slightly, as a dog would, eyeing John with interest, as if the sound was calling to him.

John knew perfectly well that Gaz was talking nonsense. After all, if he saw some guy he liked, in less than five seconds he would be right next to him. With a flirtatious smile, a flattering line, and that sexy pose that he was so good at, ready to seduce him.

God only knows how many times he or his friends had to pull him out of embarrassing situations, because the only thing Gaz didn’t seem to notice were the red flags the guy was waving without shame.

“Talk about the wolf losin' its fur, but nae its vice.” John said between laughs, wiping a finger under the corner of his eye to stop a tear from slipping down his cheek. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as his chest rose and fell with interrupted breaths.

He finished laughing, and a mischievous smile spread across his face as he grabbed his phone and quickly typed a response.

      Soap:

As you say

      Soap:

Ah! now that I think about it

I remembered something

Gaz:

 < What?

 < Did you finally remember meeting someone? 👀

      Soap:

No, it’s something else

I remembered that…

Gaz:

 < What? 👀 👀

       Soap:

 How much of a slut you are 😉

Gaz:

 < OHY! 🤬

🔕 Notifications silenced for Gaz

You’ve chosen to silence notifications for this chat for 24 hours.

[Cancel]

John muted him without a second thought. He knew it wouldn’t stop Gaz’s persistence, but at least, for a few hours, he could enjoy some peace. No more constant notifications interrupting him, no more messages making him sigh in exasperation. Letting out a relieved sigh, he placed his phone on the counter and grabbed the still-steaming cup.

Finally, he took a sip, the warm coffee sliding down his throat. He let himself be enveloped by its rich aroma and comforting taste, which seemed to awaken something within him.

“Ahh,” he sighed, relaxing on the stool. “This is exactly what ah needed.” He raised the cup, studying it with a small, satisfied smile. “Nothing beats a good cup of coffee. Sure as hell better than that pisswater the Brits call tea.”

From the corner of the room, a faint huff broke the silence, almost imperceptible. John lowered his cup, turning his gaze toward Ghost, who was staring at him with eyes that betrayed clear disapproval.

“What?” John asked, puzzled, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Ghost. “Ye dinnae agree?”

Ghost blinked slowly, tilting his head slightly to the side. It was a simple, almost casual movement, but it was enough to give John the distinct impression that the dog was challenging him to stand by his statement.

John frowned, tilting his head in response, as if answering the gesture with a challenge of his own. “What are ye tryin’ tae tell me? That tea’s better?”

Ghost let out another huff, this time more pronounced, accompanied by the faintest shrug of his shoulders, as if dismissing the topic with silent disdain.

He remained still; his gaze fixed on John. No words were necessary; his steady, penetrating eyes spoke louder than a thousand phrases. Are you serious?

John blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “God, ah’ve gone and saved a bloody Brit dog,” he muttered, bringing a hand to his forehead with an exasperated sigh, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the absurdity.

Ghost, unfazed, turned away, ignoring John’s response, and padded over to the fireplace. He settled down with slow, deliberate movements, and once he was comfortable, his eyes locked on John once again.

John stared at Ghost for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. 'Well, a Brit and a Scot under the same roof, what could possibly go wrong?' A fleeting smile tugged at his lips, hidden behind his cup, as he took another sip of coffee.

Woosh.

The sound of the wind howling outside caught John’s attention, pulling his gaze away from Ghost. He turned toward the window, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the scene beyond the glass. The snow was falling faster now, the gusts of wind pushing the tree branches into a menacing sway.

He didn’t need to check the weather to know that another storm was on its way.

“Just what ah needed,” he muttered, irritation bubbling inside him. He was already exhausted, and the thought of having to shovel all that snow filled him with a heavy sense of frustration. Even drinking every last drop of coffee in the world wouldn’t be enough to revive him.

It would be a long, gruelling task, done alone in the middle of the woods. Just imagining leaving the warmth of his home to face the cold and that endless white blanket made him grit his teeth.

It annoyed him.

It vexed him.

He hated it.

If you hate it…

That sly, creeping voice returned, whispering in his mind like an echo bouncing through the recesses of his consciousness.

Why not stop it?

He stood there for a moment, staring outside, as the wind continued to howl and the snowflakes seemed to dance in a near-hypnotic motion, utterly captivating. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt the wind’s fury, as if it wasn’t lashing out at the world, but—at someone.

Then…

The voice enveloped him, deep and commanding, an impossible-to-ignore call.

Calm its anger…

Suggested with a gentle tone, a light caress against his skin, and yet it seemed that voice was veiled by something dark.

And punish those who dared to disrupt its dance.

Gradually, the crackling of the fireplace faded into the background, giving way to the roar of the storm outside. Then that too began to fade, as if the world itself was silencing. All that remained was the sound of his breathing, calm and steady, and the rhythmic beat of his heart, slow but strong.

Finally, there was absolute silence, his lips parting on their own as words spilled forth, words that didn’t feel like his own.

“Spirit of the wind, hear my voice. Quell your rage and return to your dance, bringing with you your sweet, gentle breeze. And to those who dared disturb your rhythm, let your vengeance be upon them. Their limbs will be torn by invisible blades, and their souls dragged into the wind, suffering for eternity.”

As the words dissolved into the air, carried off as if by the wind itself, the storm outside began to calm. The plants that had been bowing under the force of the gusts now swayed gently, settling into an eventual stillness. The snow, which had been falling with fury, slowed into a soft drift, the flakes floating delicately in the air like silent dancers, guided by the wind.

The atmosphere around him grew calm, almost suspended, as John’s breathing returned to its regular, steady rhythm.

See?

The voice broke the silence, light as a whisper but brimming with a subtle smugness.

That wasn’t so hard, was it?

As the voice faded, the sounds around him slowly re-emerged. The wind had softened into a light breeze, and John blinked slowly, staring at the window with a vacant look, as if trying to piece his thoughts together.

A vague sense lingered within him, something telling him he’d heard a voice, that he’d said something. 'But what?' The words felt distant now, blurred. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the disorientation.

Forcing himself to focus, John took in the tranquil sight of the snow drifting down. The storm he thought was coming had turned out to be just a strong gust of wind.

“At least I won’t have to kill myself shovelling,” he said, sipping his coffee with a relieved sigh, one less problem weighing on his mind. But his thoughts quickly returned to his conversation with Gaz. As he reflected, his gaze lowered to Ghost, who was watching him in turn.

“Someone new, huh?” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Chapter Text

“Brrr! Christ, it’s fuckin’ baltic.”John shivered, feeling the cold bite into his skin. He’d just stepped out of the bathroom, steam still clinging to him from a scorching shower, but the icy air of the room snatched away every last trace of warmth. “Fuckin’ hate winter.”

At least he was clean, after almost two days without a proper shower.

He glanced at the clock; 8:30 p.m. Still too early to sleep, but too late to do anything, and he didn’t have the energy to do anything other than sit. At most, he could read a book or draw.

Well, the latter wasn’t a bad idea, it had been a while since he’d done that.

He went down the stairs and headed straight to his studio, grabbing his sketchbook and a set of pencils on the way. He made his way to the living room, where he had left the fireplace still burning to warm the house before bed.

He would sit on the couch, the one by the fire, so the heat would warm his body while he made a few pencil sketches. That was the plan, until he set foot in the room and a low growl greeted him.

Ghost was staring at him, motionless, like a warning not to come closer..

"Look, ah just wanna sit on the couch," John said, exhaling sharply, trying to keep his voice casual. But Ghost didn’t stop growling, his lips curling just enough to reveal sharp, white fangs, ready to make his threat clear.

John sighed, trying not to lose his cool, because he swore this dog was testing his patience.

"Listen, I get that ye don’t like me, an’ that’s fine, really." He made a gesture with his hand, pointing at the fireplace behind the dog. “But it’s fuckin’ freezing, an’ I just want tae stay close tae the bloody fire tae warm up. I won’t do a thing, I swear. I’ll sit right there in front of ye, so ye can keep an eye on me. Alright?”

This didn’t seem to convince Ghost. If anything, the growl got even more threatening, as if John had just crossed some invisible line. A line, mind you, he hadn’t even actually crossed, since the furry ball wouldn’t let him.

’Aye, maybe I need tae change my approach.’ He bit the inside of his cheek, unsure what to do. ‘But how?’

He had a couple of options in mind. Ignore the growl and sit anyway, risking—hypothetically—getting ripped apart. Or, the other option was to give up and head straight to bed.

But honestly? He didn’t want to sleep. He’d been feeling something strange for days, a mix of melancholy and unease that was hard to ignore and clung to his skin.

He doesn’t know why, but something unsettled him, as if, if he went to sleep tonight, something would happen.

John looked at Ghost and sighed, exhausted. “Ah’m no gonnae dae anythin’, just wannae warm masel’ up.” His voice was lower, almost a whisper. Instinctively, he ran a hand over his arm, trying to bring back some heat on his own.

He didn’t know if talking to Ghost would work; after all, he was a dog, and John had no idea how much he could actually understand. But he was cold, and he was the stubborn kind, not planning to give up that easily.

He definitely hadn’t meant to look like he was begging a dog, yet there he was, standing there, begging that very dog just to be allowed to sit on his couch. ‘I’ve really hit rock bottom.’ Now he was wondering if it would’ve been better to just go straight to sleep, far preferring a nightmare over looking this ridiculous.

A faint silence settled over the room, and John slowly lifted his gaze toward Ghost, only to realize he was still watching him. But his eyes no longer seemed cold or threatening; they were fixed on John with something different, something—softer?

Ghost shifted slowly to the side of the couch, and with a tilt of his muzzle, he gestured for him to sit.

‘Christ oan a bike.’ John’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘It cannae be.’ But from what he could see, it was.

John swallowed and took a step toward the couch, slow, cautious, as if he were walking across mined ground, keeping his eyes locked on Ghost. His movements were almost hesitant, breath held tight in his chest, waiting for Ghost to change his mind at any second.

But he didn’t.

When he finally reached the sofa, he lowered himself with maddening slowness. He stretched a hand toward the blanket draped over it and wrapped it around his legs, then stayed still for a moment. He watched Ghost, as if waiting for another growl or a sudden movement from him.

But again, nothing happened.

The warmth of the fireplace and the blanket began to slowly wrap around him, loosening the tension in his shoulders and body. With a barely audible sigh, John allowed himself to relax slightly. His eyes stayed fixed on Ghost, studying every tiny reaction, but the dog seemed to have settled.

He was motionless, his head resting on his front paws, yet those eyes hadn’t stopped watching him. John dropped his gaze for a moment, hands clutching the soft, warm fabric of the blanket. Then, he slowly lifted his eyes and met the dog’s stare.

“Uh, thanks?” He said uncertainly, holding Ghost’s gaze for a moment, not knowing if that was what the dog was expecting. Ghost responded with nothing but a short huff, eyes rolling to the ceiling before he let himself fall onto the rug, his muzzle pointing toward the hallway.

’Wait a sec.’ John’s eyes went wide. ’He was really waitin’ for a thanks?’

He sank back against the couch, eyes closing for a brief moment as his breath finally slowed. ’Better not think about it.’ he told himself, the warmth of the fire seeping into his limbs. Opening his eyes again, his gaze wandered around the room, settling on the sketchbook in his hands.

It had been a while since he last picked up a pencil, maybe a month, or two. The few times he’d tried since then, he’d never managed more than scribbles that looked like strange symbols rather than actual drawings.

‘Probably got an artist’s block.’ John thought, but when he saw Ghost’s figure lit by the firelight, his hand began to move as if it had a will of its own, sketching slowly, the form taking shape beneath his fingers.

The room was steeped in a soothing quiet, broken only by the soft sounds of the space. The light scrape of the pencil on paper, the muted crackle of the wood burning in the hearth, the slow, deep breaths of Ghost stretched out on the rug. Occasionally, the fire popped gently, and the shadows in the room flickered, dancing along the walls.

It was a rare moment, one of those where silence felt welcoming rather than suffocating, as if nothing could ever disturb that muffled equilibrium—Ding.

Obviously, he couldn’t stay calm for even ten minutes.

🔔 New message from Horangi🐯

< 안녕! 🤗how’s my fave lil soap bar doin?

John froze, the pencil hanging mid-air above the page as his gaze slid toward the phone lying beside him, and the second he saw the name, he didn’t think twice, just reached out and started the call.

On the rug, Ghost cracked one eye open, watching him from the corner of his vision before letting it fall shut again.

The phone rang three times before Horangi picked up. «Hey—» But John didn’t even give him the chance to speak.

“YOU! YE FUCKIN’ BRAINDEAD CUNT!” John’s voice came out louder than usual, thick with frustration and anger.

Ghost jerked his head up, ear alert, his eyes snapping to the human, wide with surprise.

«Uh… Mate? You alright—»

“Awright? AWRIGHT?!? An’ ye ask me that?!” John couldn’t believe it, unable to wrap his head around what he’d just heard. And how the hell wouldn’t you when you’re hit with the most fucking stupid question?

«…Shouldn’t I??»

“You—uhh!” John huffed, his fingers clenching the edge of his phone like he wanted to hurl it at something. “D’ye knew ye had me proper worried tae death over a bleedin’ flu?”

"Flu? What the hell are you talkin—Ugh!" A dull thud echoed in the background, like something had been hit. John found it weird, but at that moment he had way bigger things on his mind. "O-Oh! Yeah, the flu. That one—Fuck, it was fucking brutal!"

"Yer takin’ the piss outta me?" He shot back, anger rising with every word. He was furious; and who could blame him? When a friend disappears for nearly a month without a word, then pops up like nothing ever happened.

At least hearing he was still the same idiot as always had eased something in him. But right now, he wanted to get his hands on him.

“Ye’ve been fucking gone for a whole bloody month. At least a call or one fuckin’ message wasnae too much tae ask, was it?”

«One month? Wow, how time flies, huh? Ha ha ha.» Horangi’s laugh sounded off, too forced, like he was trying to hide something.

God, all these secrets were hitting a raw nerve, ready to snap.

“What the fuck are ye laughin’ at? Ye know I was this close to callin’ the cops to report yer disappearance, ye daft bastard.” He ran a hand through his hair, almost as if trying to calm himself. When he let it drop, he rested it on the page, picked up the pencil, and before he realized it, he was drawing.

“Thank the heavens the snow’s got me stuck here, ‘cause I’d have come tae kick yer arse meself.”The room filled with the relentless scratch of pencil on paper, that sharp rustle blending with John’s voice, speaking to Horangi on the other end of the line, while every stroke took shape beneath his fingers.

“I thought ye’d been kidnapped, since ye weren’t replyin’ tae my messages, ye fuckin’ idiot.” On the other end, a moment of silence fell. “Horangi? Are ye even listenin’?”

John could hear confused curses in the background, and something else. He furrowed his brow. Was it just his imagination, or had he caught other voices?

They were—no, impossible. They sounded like Ale and Rudy, but they were on another continent. So it had to be just a line issue playing tricks on him.

«Eh? Ah, sorry, Soap, must be a reception issue. Probably the snow’s blocking the signal.»

"Before, there wasn’t any snow stoppin’ ye from callin’." As the pencil moved, the lines, the strokes, began to form something. Something John didn’t notice.

But Ghost did.

Watching him talk on the phone to who-knows-who, he noticed how the pencil moved, randomly, or at least it seemed so. Sometimes it always returned to the same spot, then drifted away to carry on with another part.

«Right, my fault. I just… had a rough time and wanted to be alone for a bit. But I promise it won’t happen again.»

“I hope so,” he sighed. He wanted to say more, but the anger had softened, hearing just how sorry he really sounded. Anyway, he knows better than anyone what it feels like when the world gets too heavy to carry all at once. When being alone seems like the only place you can hide.

So he did what he did best, reach out a hand, or just stay and listen.

“Ye want tae talk aboot it?” he asked. His voice was low, gentle, and he hoped Horangi would say something, that he wouldn’t bottle it all up like he usually does.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, but John waited.

That was fine. If Horangi didn’t want to talk, it was probably something delicate. One of those things you don’t even tell your closest friends. Something likely so painful that Horangi didn’t want him to worry.

Or maybe… something bad had happened?

Maybe he was still sick. Maybe the fever had never gone away and he’d overdone it, or worse: he’d caught pneumonia. God, what if he was dying? And now he was about to hear his last words—«Of course! I was starting to think you’d never ask!»—Okay, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

John rolled his eyes to the ceiling, letting his shoulders slump as he leaned back against the sofa. “Alright, shoot.”

«Are you still having those nightmares? Or are there new ones now?»

John raised an eyebrow. ‘Nightmares?’ Well, he got plenty, but thinking about it, it had been a while since the last one. ‘But why’s he askin’ me that?’

“Nah, not lately. Why?”

Another silence, and John was starting to suspect that maybe Horangi wasn’t really alone. Because he could swear he was hearing voices in the background, talking to each other, and this time he was certain it wasn’t some bloody reception problem.

“Horangi, is there someone there with ye?” He heard a curse, and then something clattering to the floor. ‘What the fuck is he doin’?’

«Anyone? Oh, no, no. I’m alone. What you hear is-it’s—Oh! It’s the TV on. Now, excuse me, I left the Tteokbokki on the stove. Bye!»

“The Tteokbokki what? No, wait! Ye didn’t answer me—Tuuu-Tuuu-Tuuu—about the nightmares.” John stared at his phone, caught off guard. “Fuckin’ idiot.” He tossed the phone aside, set down the album, and let his head fall back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.

‘At least he’s alright.’ He sighed softly, closing his eyes, hearing the crackle of the fireplace in the background and feeling the warmth it gave off.

Everything was calm, so quiet now, a stillness that felt almost foreign after what he’d been through these past few days. He was starting to relax, feeling his body sink even deeper into the couch, the blanket wrapping him in a sweet embrace.

Maybe he should get up, before he fell asleep on—KRRAAASH!

John’s eyes flew open, his breath caught in his throat, then came short, jagged, fast, as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. While his heart hammered in his chest, it was only then that he realized something was wrong.

He wasn’t on the couch, but standing, frozen in the middle of the room—and that wasn’t the only strange thing.

The living room was plunged into darkness, a cold, thick blackness that seemed to have crept under his skin, as if the temperature had dropped all at once. He saw that the fireplace was out, no embers, no crackle, no trace of the warmth that had surrounded him just moments before.

There was an unsettling silence, broken only by irregular bursts of the distant thunderstorm.

A lightning bolt tore through the sky, and for a few seconds the room was flooded with a violent, white light, casting unnatural shadows across the walls. The room was empty; Ghost was no longer by the fireplace, as if he had never been there, and he was alone.

John slowly turned his gaze toward the window, without even moving closer, because he didn’t need to see to know what was happening outside.

A storm raged, the rain falling so thick it seemed like a solid wall. Water slammed against the glass as if trying to break through, driven by the wind that howled through the trees.

A wind so strong it bent them as if it were trying to snap them, and the sky was a dark, furious mass, as if Mother Nature herself had decided to descend and destroy everything without distinction.

His breath still trembled when a sound, different from the constant rumble that mixed with the violent splash of water and the wind’s howl, reached his ears. It was thin, faint, almost imperceptible, echoing from inside the house.

A shiver ran down his spine, his blood froze in his veins, and John stiffened as he recognized that sound. No—that melody.

The music box.

A slow, fragile melody, out of tune with the chaos raging outside, drifted from the far end of the corridor, where the stairs led to the upper floor.

“no,” he murmured under his breath, swallowing slowly. His throat went suddenly dry, while a creeping, unpleasant awareness settled into his stomach, squeezing it from the inside like a vice.

He was dreaming.

And that, more than any thunder or storm, was what frightened him most.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“…no.”

Ghost’s ear twitched slightly as it caught a faint sound. He opened one eye in that direction, seeing the human sleeping curled beneath the blanket. The body was tense in an unnatural posture, brow furrowed, fingers tightening into the fabric and gripping it hard, breathing uneven, broken, far too fast for someone resting peacefully.

He watched him for only a moment, then closed his eye again and turned his muzzle the other way, pressing his side back into the rug.

If he was having a nightmare, it wasn’t his problem.

He didn’t know him and owed him nothing, even if he had saved his fur; he wasn’t obligated to stand guard over him, nor to worry about whether he slept well or not.

All that existed between them was nothing more than a temporary cohabitation, bound to end the moment his wounds had closed enough to let him leave without a trace.

He settled in again, searching for a more comfortable position, letting the weight of his body sink and spread across the warm floor. The fireplace kept crackling behind him, wood popping at irregular intervals, while outside the wind made the windows shudder.

The clock hanging on the wall ticked slowly, steadily, a regular sound that should have lulled him to sleep—but it didn’t.

His body stayed tense, muscles coiled, ears twitching at the slightest sound, while beneath his skin something began to stir. A dull unease that had nothing to do with the cold or the lingering pain in his wounds.

Again, that strange sensation he couldn’t explain started to writhe inside him.

At first, it was just a feeling, a weight in his stomach, a faint, weak vibration. But it grew into a low growl, vibrating inside him, insistent and irritated, like claws pressing to get out.

Ghost clenched his jaw, breathing deeper, trying to ignore it, but the pressure only built instead of easing, and the wolf inside him wasn’t helping at all.

He wanted to get up, to move, to go to only one place.

Ghost knew where the wolf inside him wanted so desperately to go—toward that human. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, to stay still and let time pass, his wolf would never allow it.

Another sound slipped from the human, a strangled moan, followed by an even more uneven breath, and the internal growl grew louder, sharper, almost angry. As if something was demanding he move immediately, do something.

Ghost exhaled softly, opening his eyes with annoyance, irritated at himself because he knew perfectly well he wasn’t doing it out of pity or curiosity. But only to quiet the wolf inside him, which had no intention of letting him rest.

With a sharp movement, Ghost stood, giving his body a slight shake, his paws touching the cold floor without a sound. He approached the couch, stopping a few steps away, watching.

The human’s slightly pink skin was slick with sweat, his heartbeat pounding in his ears like a fast, uneven rhythm, as if he were running without moving. Ghost lowered his muzzle, inhaling slowly, catching the familiar scent of the human, mingled with the wool of the blanket and the burned wood of the fireplace.

But there was something else.

A bitter edge, almost dry, lingering in the air instead of fading immediately—the smell of fear.

Different.

Wrong.

Not right.

He stiffened suddenly, his claws pressing into the cold floor without him realizing it. He didn’t like it, and neither did his wolf, it was wrong, and he shouldn’t smell like this. A low, guttural growl vibrated in his chest, stifled before it even escaped, as he caught a faint sob from the human.

Without thinking, he climbed onto the edge of the couch with his front paws, pressing the weight of his body against the human’s, noticing how warm he was. ’He’s got a fever?’

Ghost instinctively lowered his snout, brushing the human’s neck with his damp nose, inhaling deeply that acrid scent that wouldn’t leave. The touch made the human tense for a moment, drawing a broken breath that shook his chest, his shoulders rising just under the blanket.

But he didn’t wake.

His fingers clenched the blanket again, knuckles whitening from the effort, and another sob escaped his lips as the first tears began to streak down his face.

Ghost stayed still when the warm wetness touched his nose, and instinctively licked it. It was salty, making him curl his upper lip in a reflexive grimace. He lifted his snout a few inches, watching the human’s face barely lit by the flickering firelight.

Tears ran down his cheeks, glossy and delicate, and something in Ghost’s stomach clenched. A primal impulse, almost pain, that made his chest tremble.

He lowered his muzzle again, this time more slowly, dragging his tongue over the wet cheek, catching that tear before it could fall any further. Another tear formed, slipping from the corner of the eye, and Ghost was already there, ready to follow it again with his tongue.

The human’s chest jerked under the blanket, each breath shorter than the last, as if something were choking him from the inside. A low whimper vibrated between his clenched teeth, barely audible, but enough to make Ghost’s ears tilt forward.

‘What’s he dreamin’ that’s got him stiff like that?’ Ghost watched him, still as stone, eyes tracing every tiny tremor of his body, every choked sob, every whimper slipping past his lips, sharp to every spasm, every breath that caught in his throat ‘What’s it that’s scarin’ him?’

He’s scared, because he thinks he’s alone…

That voice again… the same one he’d heard the day he met this human, the one he tried to ignore when it came back. He didn’t know exactly where it came from, only that it was a part of him, but it wasn’t the wolf.

Stay with him, and let him feel our presence… This time—we won't leave him alone again.

Whatever it was, he knew he couldn’t ignore it. This time, he listened.

Ghost shifted slightly, pressing against the human’s body and staying there, in contact, breathing slow, steady, letting him feel a constant, calm, certain presence. But another whimper escaped the human, and his body jerked briefly, as if trying to wriggle free from an invisible grip.

Tears dampened the fur on his muzzle, but Ghost didn’t move an inch. He waited, still, until the human’s fingers unclenched the blanket in despair, until his chest stopped shaking with sobs and only a thin, fragile breath remained.

Ghost stayed crouched there, motionless, eyes half-closed, ears alert, his warm, heavy body pressed against the human’s, forming a barrier between him and whatever hunted him inside his dreams.