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| Jackson |
There were no words to explain the horror that gripped Jackson's soul. A spectral paralysis seized him, rendering his limbs immobile, his heart pounding an erratic cadence in the cavernous stillness. Before him loomed a grotesque entity, a twisted amalgamation of flesh and nightmare, a monstrous silhouette that defied the laws of reason.
The creature, a grotesque puppeteer of dread, spoke not with vocal cords but with a malevolent aura that wrapped itself around Jackson's very essence. It spoke his name with an otherworldly familiarity, a chilling recognition that transcended the mundane. It required no verbal declaration to convey its sinister intent; the macabre desire emanated from its disfigured countenance.
A grin, not of joy but of unholy satisfaction, etched across its deformed visage. Its eyes, devoid of humanity, fixated upon Jackson with an eerie intensity that penetrated the depths of his vulnerability. The creature's utterance slithered through the air like a serpentine whisper, a haunting resonance that echoed within the recesses of his tortured psyche.
"You're perfect," it exhaled, the words carrying the weight of a sepulchral promise. The creature's voice resonated as a subsonic undertone, a spectral symphony that stirred the shadows. "The perfect vessel."
Jackson's primal instincts, silenced by the oppressive atmosphere, failed to guide him. A paralyzing fear enveloped him, strangling his resolve and numbing his senses. The urgency to flee surged within him, yet his corporeal shell remained captive to the malevolent force that loomed before him.
In the oppressive stillness, the unspoken truth manifested—a choice between annihilation and assimilation. The impending doom clung to the air, leaving Jackson ensnared in a web of existential terror, unsure of whether the impending fate was to be his demise or a grotesque metamorphosis into something beyond his comprehension.
The creature inched closer, causing the icy ground to tremble beneath its measured steps. Strangely, it seemed cautious, as if uncertain about Jackson. Its movements were slow, almost hesitant as if it half-expected him to snap out of his fear and put up a fight.
However, Jackson found himself immobilized, unable to step back, unable to retreat to the battle and seek refuge with his mate. Despite wanting to escape the creature's maniacal gaze, his legs refused to cooperate. The longer he stood there, trapped and motionless, a creeping sense of hopelessness settled over him. Was this where his luck ran out?
No one was around to help him; the inimă showed no signs of awakening and wrapping around his neck, and his senses failed to detect any living entity nearby.
It dawned on him—he was on his own.
With a guttural growl, the creature took another step closer, moving out into the moonlight which cut through the tree branches. It towered over Jackson, even in his wolf form; it was bigger than Damon, bigger than an Amarok, and it struck fear into him like nothing he'd felt before. It horrified him more than Kane did, more than the prowlers did...more than the sirens did.
The moonlight showed Jackson more of its ghastly bipedal form, revealing that its body was scarred with more runes like the one carved into its skull. The creature reeked...but not of rotting flesh. An ashy smell clung to its fur like someone had burned wood and leaves just before it started raining. And although the creature looked like it should be dead, Jackson could hear a heartbeat; he could smell fresh blood inside its body, and he could feel the warmth emanating from it.
Was this thing a cadejo...or was it something else entirely?
"I have waited...centuries for this," the creature breathed as it reached one of its bony, mangled hands towards Jackson.
Dread ensnared Jackson as his body suddenly recoiled from the impending touch of the creature. The mere thought of its contact sent shivers down his spine. Despite his overwhelming fear, an urgent desire to escape surged through him, overpowering the paralyzing grip of terror.
Summoning every ounce of courage, Jackson attempted to pivot and flee. However, the creature, a sinister apparition of swiftness, seized him with speed that defied everything he knew and had come to learn. In an instant, he found himself lifted from his paws and ruthlessly pressed against the gnarled bark of a tree.
The creature's strength, an otherworldly force, manifested in its ability to effortlessly subdue Jackson. His grunts of resistance were drowned out by the eerie stillness of the surrounding woods, and the cold touch of the tree bark pressed into his fur, an unyielding witness to his predicament.
Locked in a desperate struggle, Jackson's eyes met those of the antlered wolf. A haunting silence enveloped them as the creature stared into the depths of his horrified gaze. No matter how vehemently Jackson fought against the overpowering force, the creature's strength proved insurmountable, an ominous reminder of his vulnerability in the face of an adversary belonging to the Caeleste world.
The fight echoed through the haunted woods, the very essence of suspense clinging to each strained breath and futile attempt to break free. In the chilling dance between predator and prey, Jackson's feeble resistance only served to emphasize the relentless power of the antlered wolf, leaving him ensnared in the inescapable grasp of a malevolent force.
"Not this time," the creature growled, its breath carrying the scent of blood and sulphur. "You're alone, no one to save you," it sneered, tilting its head to the side.
Jackson choked and flailed his legs around, but all his attempts were futile. The creature's grip was slowly depriving him of air, and he could feel the strength fading from his limbs. His heart raced as panic quickly ensnared him, and his rapid breaths only carried him much faster towards his inevitable slip into unconsciousness.
But when he felt the creature's sharp claws pierce his skin, Jackson was struck by more than just pain. His vision blurred, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head—and then he saw it.
Them.
Flashes of places he'd never seen before.
The overgrown halls of an abandoned home, its shattered windows covered in moss, and weeds growing through the marble floor.
A dark, abandoned tomb with an altar in its centre and scorch marks covering the old, cracked walls.
And a murky forest plagued by mangled, twisted creatures that made his heart race faster.
Deer.
Wolves.
Foxes.
It all blazed before him, and every time he saw something he'd already seen, it looked just a little older or a little more dead. He had no idea why he was seeing it all, or what any of it meant, but when the giant wolf let go of him and stumbled back with what sounded like a frustrated grunt, Jackson snapped out of it, and his vision returned to him.
He wasn't going to waste his chance.
Jackson bolted into the woods, his paws pounding against the ice, a futile attempt to outrun the impending horror that pursued him. The sinister thump of the colossal, antlered wolf resonated ominously, an unrelenting echo that drew nearer with each panicked step. Casting a frantic glance over his shoulder, dread seized him as he realized escape was already beyond his grasp.
The monstrous wolf closed the distance with speed unlike anything Jackson had seen, its presence overwhelming any semblance of hope. Before he could summon a defence, the creature's massive claws ensnared him, a merciless grip that extinguished any fleeting thoughts of evasion.
With a furious roar, the beast hoisted Jackson from the safety of his paws, callously flinging him aside like a discarded plaything. A sickening crack echoed through the desolate woods as his body collided with the unforgiving embrace of a tree; pain surged through him, and the ethereal boundary between flesh and agony blurred as something within him fractured.
The wintry landscape bore witness to Jackson's agonizing descent, the snow beneath him offering no solace, only a frigid bed of torment. Lying helpless, he could only watch as the monster approached, a predatory silhouette prowling through the eerie silence. The world seemed to hold its breath as it closed in, casting an oppressive pall over the fallen prey, and the woods whispered tales of impending suffering.
There was nothing he could do. His body wasn't responding, but this time it wasn't because of fear. His bones were broken. His blood was oozing from wounds he couldn't see, and as he watched the snow around him stain red, his horror and fear grew into something suffocating. His breaths became harder to take, his heart raced so fast that it felt like it was about to burst out of his body, and his head was throbbing.
He tried to call for help, he tried to summon the inimă, but he was truly, entirely alone.
Until blue flames lit up the dark and collided with the antlered wolf.
Jackson watched as the beast stumbled away from him and tried to wipe the flames off itself, grunting and snarling in desperation. Its skin burned, its fur helped the fire spread, and the monster had no choice but to drop to the snow and writhe around.
That was when Sebastien landed in front of Jackson. Although he couldn't hear what the hound was telling him, Jackson knew that he was there to help, and his terror was quickly drowned out by relief.
But Sebastien suddenly stopped trying to help Jackson to his paws. He froze, and when Jackson looked up at him, he saw that the hound was staring at the antlered wolf, which had already extinguished his fire.
"You..." the monster drawled angrily.
Sebastien was trembling. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost—his face possessed an expression that Jackson would have never thought he'd see on him.
The hound shakily responded, "It's...you."
With a snarl and a grunt, the beast stood up straight, and the cautious stare that Jackson had seen on its face when he first encountered it reappeared. "Give me the vessel," it growled.
Sebastien shook his head. "No."
The creature scoffed and an evil grin stretched across its mangled face. "Are you still that naïve little brat? You couldn't save Caleb, or the thousands of others who've died because of you; what makes you think it'll be any different this time?"
Jackson trembled as the pain in his body grew. It was obvious that Sebastien knew who or what this antlered wolf was, but there wasn't time for questions. That thing wanted him, and he wasn't going to lay there and let it take him. "S-Sebastien," he grunted.
Sebastien scowled and stood protectively in front of Jackson. "I've learned a lot since then, including how to put fuckers like you back where they belong."
The creature's grin grew as it prowled a little closer.
But then the sound of thumping paws cut through the tense quiet, and the antlered wolf lost its maniacal smile. It looked over its shoulder, scowled frustratedly, and then set its eyes back on Jackson and Sebastien.
"Better do what you're best at," Sebastien warned.
With one last snarl, the monster growled, "You're on borrowed time, Huxley," and then it dropped to all fours and raced into the woods, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Jackson closed his eyes as he exhaled in relief.
"Are you all right?" Sebastien asked, placing his paw on his shoulder.
Pain shot through his body, and Jackson flinched.
"Shit, sorry," the hound stuttered.
He shook his head and opened his eyes, and when he saw his pack, led by Damon, rushing towards him, the rest of his fear withered. But a terrible sense of dread remained. What the hell was that thing? How did it know Sebastien? How did Sebastien know it? And who was Caleb?
"What happened?" Damon demanded as he hurried to Jackson's side.
"It was some kind of variant," Sebastien answered.
Jackson frowned strangely at him, but he wasn't going to question him in front of everyone. There was probably a good reason why he wasn't telling them the truth—whatever that may be.
Damon nuzzled his mate's neck. "Why did you run off on your own?" he asked quietly, both confusion and dismay in his voice.
"I-I wanted to find whatever that thing was that I saw," he said with a pained grunt as Damon assessed his wounds. "It was...I don't know. It had antlers."
"Antlers?" Julian questioned.
"Like a deer?" Wesley asked.
Jackson nodded. "Sebastien chased it off," he said as he glanced at Sebastien, who looked relieved that he'd said that.
"Should we go after it?" Brando suggested. "If it's a variant we haven't faced before, wouldn't it be best to learn what we can about—"
"It was massive," Sebastien interjected. "And fast. We can't afford to chase after something right now; Cyrus needs us."
"Can you walk?" Damon asked Jackson.
Jackson carefully moved his legs around; he could feel his body healing, and although the pain was still agonizing, he was able to climb to his paws without making it any worse. He stood up, leaning on Damon, and then he looked at his concerned packmates. "Where's Tokala?" he asked, seeing that the orange wolf wasn't with them, and neither were Lance and Lalo.
"Back at the fight," Wesley answered.
"Can you take him to the rendezvous point?" Damon asked Sebastien, gesturing to Jackson.
"Why?" Jackson asked, confused.
"You need to rest and heal. The rest of us can keep fighting," his mate told him.
But Jackson shook his head. He didn't want to rest—he didn't want to have to leave the battle. He could help, and his packmates needed him. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I can keep fighting."
"You took a pretty devastating blow," Sebastien said.
"I'm fine!" he exclaimed. "We're wasting time just standing here talking about it."
Damon shook his head and quietly said, "You're bleeding."
Jackson looked at the wounds on his body. "Then just take me to Raph—H-Heir Zephyr; he can heal me."
The Alpha's worried, reluctant stare thickened.
"He is on healing duty," Sebastien said.
"I'll be okay," Jackson told his mate softly. "Come on."
Damon huffed and pondered, but he clearly knew as well as everyone else did that the longer they stood there, the longer Cyrus' wolves had to hold off the cadejo alone. So the Alpha sighed and nodded. "All right. Let's get back."
"What about that variant?" Julian asked as the pack started heading back towards the battle.
"I'll warn everyone," Sebastien said and hastily took off.
Jackson watched him disappear above the trees. He couldn't help but feel skeptical; Sebastien knew something about that antlered wolf—they seemed to know each other, but the fact that Sebastien hid that from everyone made Jackson think that maybe it was some kind of Nosferatu business. Whatever it was, though, he wanted to find out. That monster wanted him, it called him a perfect hybrid, a perfect vessel, and he hadn't forgotten about the things he saw when that creature's claws cut into his skin, either.
Whatever it was, whatever it wanted, and whatever all of this meant, Jackson wasn't sure, but he was going to find out, whether from Sebastien or someone else who knew what was going on. That monster wanted him, and he needed to know why.
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