Drake POV:
I woke to darkness, my chest feet tight, I could feel my lungs straining for air. I couldn't see, couldn't move—only the crushing weight pressing down on me. Layers of cold, suffocating earth pinned me in place.
Clawing upward, inch by inch, I forced my way through the unyielding layers of soil, and at last, my right fist broke free, punching into the open air. With every ounce of strength left in me, I dragged myself out until my body finally burst from the ground.
I collapsed to my knees on the surface, screaming in pain and agony, my voice tearing through the silent night, echoing into the trees.
My thoughts slowly pieced themselves back together as I rose unsteadily to my feet. I turned in circles, scanning the world around me—until my gaze froze on the ruins of my home.
I stood there, staring. It didn't take long to realize that everything had changed. The trees loomed taller, older than I remembered. The air itself felt colder, sharper against my moody skin. My once-familiar house was nothing but a broken shell, its walls smothered in weeds, now a ghost of what it used to be.
Just as I stood there, a sharp crack split the silence—a twig snapping somewhere behind me, cutting through the weight of my grief. It wasn't the wind. It was footsteps.
Instinct surged through me. I spun around, my gaze burning In the shadow of the full moon, my eyes glowed red, piercing the darkness.
"And what I saw was a man standing behind me. The shock on his face told me he had been there long before I even noticed, silently watching this unnatural occurrence unfold before his very eyes."
"What the hell…" the man whispered in fear as his eyes locked with mine, glowing red in the dark. He staggered back, one step, then another, before panic overtook him. Spinning around, he bolted through the trees, desperate to escape.
But he didn't get far.
The rage burning in my soul erupted, and in the blink of an eye I moved. One moment I stood behind him in the shadows, and the next I was right in front of him, blocking his path.
Before he could react, I seized him by the throat. With a single, swift motion, I hoisted him off the ground and hurled him against a tree.
The impact shook the air. He crumpled to the ground, coughing violently as blood spilled from his mouth, his body writhing in pain.
I stared at my palms in disbelief. I didn't know how I had done that—but I had. Something inside me had changed. I was stronger. Faster. I could feel it surging through my veins like fire.
Across from me, the man I had just hurled into the tree was already rising to his feet. His eyes locked onto mine, not with fear this time, but narrowed in sharp calculation—as if he were trying to measure exactly how to attack.
Without a word, he reached beneath his cloak and slowly drew a dagger, the sharp edge of its steel shining under reflection of the moonlight.
The sight made my chest tighten. This was no ordinary man. He had to be a Lycan hunter. And after the strength I had just revealed—throwing him like he weighed nothing—there was no doubt in his mind that i could be a lycan.
With a swift motion, the man hurled the dagger. His aim was flawless, the force behind it unrelenting. The blade cut through the air and, in an instant, buried itself deep in my chest.
A scream tore from my throat as I collapsed to my knees. This was no ordinary weapon—I could feel it burning inside me, searing my flesh from within. Smoke rose from the wound, curling into the night air as the pain burn through me.
The Lycan hunter stood over me, a smirk twisting his face as if victory was already his.
"There's no way you can survive that," he muttered. "That blade is coated with wolf's toxin—more than enough to bring down any Lycan."
I remained on my knees, writhing in pain. But then—slowly—my screams began to fade from my throat. The pain dulled, not vanished, but shifting. I could feel something happening inside me, as if the smoke rising from my wound was burning the toxin away, purging it from my veins.
I steadied my breath, forcing control back into my body. My hand gripped the dagger still lodged in my chest, and with grim determination I began to pull. Inch by inch, the blade slid free, until at last I wrenched it out.
Rising from my knees, I lifted my gaze to the hunter. The smirk that had once curved his lips was gone—replaced by shock. His eyes widened as if he were staring at something beyond reasonable.
"Impossible…" he muttered, unable to believe what he was seeing.
"How… how are you still standing after that?" he stammered, his voice trembling. "That blade—it's supposed to kill any Lycan. You should be dead by now."
But the rage consuming me left no room for his words. With inhuman speed, I lunged at him. Clutching the dagger I had just torn from my own chest and driving it deep into his stomach, pinning him against the tree behind him.
Blood spilled from his mouth as his breaths grew shallow, each one more labored than the last. His eyes, wide and trembling, locked onto mine—onto the crimson glow burning in them. With the last strength clinging to his fading life, he forced out a whisper:
"What kind of… Lycan are you?"
I staggered back, shaken by my reflection in his eyes, the reflection of what I had become. The rage still pulsed violently through my veins, drowning out every other feeling. Remorse was gone. Humanity—gone. All that remained was the unquenchable fury raging within the ruins of my shattered soul.