However, in the subterranean office beneath their unassuming two-story house, the Silversmith family convened in secrecy. Arnold, Rebecca, Clark, and Aaron gathered around the round table, their faces etched with determination and resentment. The recent defeat still lingered, Nicholas's triumph in turning their own kin into a werewolf – a creature they had sworn to hunt – burning within them.Rebecca stood before the table, her finger tracing a path on the map spread before them. "We can't underestimate Nicholas again," she warned, her voice low and urgent. "He's proven he'll stop at nothing."Clark stood tall, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed in intensity. Aaron stood stoically against the doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the table. Arnold was seated by the table, leaning forward, elbows on the table, his eyes locked onto Rebecca."The Lightwood pack thinks they've won," Rebecca continued, "but we'll show them the true meaning of power. We'll take back what'
Six hours later, Thursday, 7:00 am.Margaret was dressed in her two-piece cozy pajamas, with a night robe draped over it. She strode to her kitchen, her pale-blond hair packed in a disheveled ponytail. She was in a whole mood as she brewed her cappuccino, mentally jamming to the distant tweeting birds in the trees.Then she made breakfast. She made a typical American breakfast sandwich with a simple, delicious arugula salad and served it with a tasty vinaigrette. Once done, she quickly washed the cooking tools that she had used in cooking and made sure her kitchen was arranged impeccably as it normally would.Humming to the pleasant bird tunes, Margaret finally decided to go call her Almighty and formidable werewolf of a guest, whom she thought was still slumbering in his guest room. Thinking back to his expression when she had told her his room was ready, she mused that the image of his straight face, which she knew was a front, was still fresh in her mind. “If he doesn't loosen u
Meanwhile, Sheila’s mind was set in sheer resolve as she hastily packed her bag for her urgent trip to Anavrin. Having been one not to travel with luggage, she opted for only a sleek, small, cherry-red Christian Dior travel bag. Though petite, the designer bag was able to accommodate an array of travel necessities: A trio of different shades of red lipsticks, a pair of lacy underwear sets, travel-sized body deodorants, and a refreshing face mist. A few bundles of cash, ATM cards, a charger, and a power bank ensured her technological and financial preparedness.Sheila was the kind who'd buy new clothes wherever she went instead of packing the ones she already had. ‘When you get to Rome, you dress like the Romans,’ was her fashion motto.Her outfit was the edgy and fashionable kind— leather trousers, red ankle boots, a leather crop jacket with a furry neckline, and a red inner top. A delicate, silver necklace with a miniature compass pendant glinted against her decollege.She had her
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking. Welcome aboard Flight 114 to Anavrin. We'll be cruising at an altitude of 35,000 feet, with an estimated flight time of 6 hours and 15 minutes. Please ensure your seatbelts are securely fastened, all electronic devices are in airplane mode, and your seats are in their upright position. We'll do our best to ensure a smooth and comfortable journey. Thank you for choosing our airline."The plane's engines roared to life, and it began its steady ascent into the sky. Sheila's face was as grave as the foreboding thunderclouds, her expression unyielding. But as the plane lifted off the ground, her tension began to dissipate. The takeoff was smooth, a gentle lift into the clouds.Sheila let out a silent sigh of relief. The plane had taken off, and that was all that mattered. Her rigid posture relaxed, and she leaned back into her seat. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to unwind, the hum of the engines lulling her into a
Back at Margaret's cozy rented bungalow down Brooklyn's street, the morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the scent of old books and parchment. Margaret sat up on her bed, surrounded by scattered papers, maps, and files, her eyes scanning the documents for the umpteenth time.The soft hum of the air conditioner provided a soothing background noise as she pored over the paperwork, her pencil tapping against her lips. Her gaze narrowed, focusing on a particular entry. It was 9:27 AM, and she was determined to find another lead, another thread to tug. Even though she already had an active plan (that is, waiting to trail the Silversmith Hunters during the next full moon), she still wasn't going to sit around and wait, so she began working on a plan B.Nicholas's hiding place remained a mystery, but she was convinced there was a clue hidden somewhere.As she highlighted a crucia
Meanwhile, Levi, who was slumbering off on the couch, stirred, gradually opening up his eyes. He had just had a two-hour sleep. That was more than what he'd had in days. Maybe it was the price of being who he was. He lacked the desire to sleep, and this was mostly because he was able to function perfectly without it. But Margaret’s tranquil home and calm space was able to soothe his weary soul, despite her tantrums and fiery outbursts.He stretched, feeling refreshed, and swung his legs over the side. Margaret —her name echoed in the back of his mind, lingering for a while. She was a peculiar woman, he thought to himself. She was bold and daring, a rare breed of woman he’d found amongst humans. He'd met only a few people like her in his entire lifetime, people who didn't cower in his presence. Margaret happened to be the first woman who had tested his patience; despite his deadly instincts, she'd pushed him to the limit without ending up hurt by him. That intrigued him.The creaking
3 HOURS INTO THE FLIGHT.Suddenly, Sheila's eyes fluttered open as turbulence jolted the entire plane. Disoriented, she jerked upright, realizing she'd leaned against the fine stranger beside her. Adam, the man, stirred awake, rubbing his eyes."Excuse me," Adam asked the passing flight attendant, "what's going on?""Minor issue, folks. Everything's fine," the lady attendant reassured, forcing a smile.But before he could continue, the plane shuddered again but more violently, throwing Sheila against Adam once more. Panic set in as passengers began to scream with fear."Hey! What the fuck is going on?!" Sheila's voice rose, her composure fraying."Calm down, madam. Everything will be fine," the attendant soothed, but his words were lost as the plane lurched again.This time, the impact was more severe. Oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling, their bright yellow straps unfolding like mechanical flowers. The hiss of released air filled the cabin."Put your mask on and breathe normally,"
Sheila trudged away from the Wichita hangar, the cool Kansas breeze rustling her hair. She left Adam without a goodbye, and their brief connection was severed. As she walked, her thoughts lingered on what could have been. "Maybe, some other place, some other time," she mused, a faint smile on her lips.Moving on, her footsteps echoed through the deserted parking lot as most of the people were in the airport lobby, the only sound breaking the silence. Sheila's gaze drifted back to the hangar, where Adam remained, a fading figure in her rearview. She shook her head, focusing on the road ahead. Anavrin beckoned, and she couldn't afford distractions.She briskly walked into the parking lot, scanning for available transportation. Her luck turned as she spotted a taxi driver leaning against his cab, seeking shade from the downpour. Grateful to escape the rain, she hastened towards him."Taxi, please," Sheila requested, her voice firm.The driver nodded with a warm smile, holding the door op
As the dust settled, Nicholas and Levi found themselves shocked and disoriented, their eyes fixed on Kimberly with a mix of confusion and awe. With a painful groan, Levi sank his own hand into his shifted heart which was almost about to be ripped out of his chest, and he pushed it back to its original position with undeterred precision. That was the closest he'd ever been to death in his entire life, but he made sure to conceal the flicker of emotion that would have revealed it. For some unknown reasons, Kimberly had chosen to stop Nicholas, she had chosen to save Levi, and Levi was thankful for that. This reason however was subtly understood by Levi, he knew she had saved him not because she believed what he had said, it was because he knew she must be desperate for answers. And he believed that deep down in her heart, she knew that something was missing and she wanted to know what. Apparently, saving Levi's life was a one step to finding out answers—or so Levi thought. Barely re
Back then at the scene of the carnage that had unfolded before the Lightwood’s mansion. The disastrous and blood drenched battleground was a grim reminder of the atrocities committed by Levi; decimating six of Nicholas's own in cold blood. Levi, the Ultima, and ever-powerful primordial, and Nicholas, the ruthless and formidable Alpha, stood face to face, six feet from each other, their jaws clenched in unyielding determination. Their faces and clothes were battered with blood, both of their own and that of the fallen werewolves —another grim reminder of the carnage that had taken place. Their eyes blazed with a burning intensity, each one fueled by a fierce desire to take the other out, to emerge victorious in this battle of titans.And then there was Kimberly, the unseemingly powerful hybrid, whose true nature remained a mystery to all who surrounded her. She stood frozen on the mansion stairs, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief, her gaze fixed on the havoc unfolding before he
As Sheila stepped out of Hannah's front door, the warm sunlight and gentle breeze enveloped her, a stark contrast to the dark, intense emotions that was swirling within her. She took a deep breath, feeling the cool, crisp air fill her lungs, and began to make her way down the winding path that led through Hannah's beautifully manicured gardens.The vibrant flowers and lush greenery of Hannah's garden seemed to mock her, their beauty and tranquility a jarring contrast to the turmoil that raged in her heart and mind. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed out at the serene landscape, her mind still reeling from the revelations Hannah had shared.Despite her weakness and fatigue, Sheila's resolve had been reignited, her determination to destroy Kimberly burning brighter than ever. As she walked, she carefully formulated her next move, her mind racing with strategies and plans.The soft rustle of leaves and chirping of birds filled the air, a soothing melody that seemed to fuel Sheila's growing a
While Sheila was left orchestrating her next move in her mind, Hannah retreated to her sanctum, a space filled in ancient mystique. The witch room was a labyrinthine chamber, its walls lined with tall shelves that stood relentlessly under the weight of dusty tomes and mysterious artifacts. The air was heavy with the scent of old parchment and the flickering flames of white and red candles, which cast eerie shadows on the walls. In the center of the room, a sturdy wooden table stood, and on it was a simple, yet elegant, silver bowl. The bowl, crafted from a polished silver metal, seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if it were imbued with a power of its own. Hannah's eyes gleamed with a deep understanding as she approached the table, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. The silence was palpable, punctuated only by the soft crackling of the candles.Her expression turned grave, her sharp eyes clouded with a mix of shock and concern. She paused, collecting her thoughts
Sheila sat up, adjusting her clothes and regaining her composure. "What is it that you want from me, Hannah?" She asked, her tone measured. Hannah's response was a laughter laced with mockery. "You?" she repeated, her eyes glinting with amusement. "What could you possibly have to offer that would be of any interest to me?”Sheila's brows furrowed, her frustration simmering just below the surface, but she refused to give Hannah the satisfaction of seeing her weakness. "What's your problem with me, then?" she demanded, her voice firm. "Why have you been making my life so goddamn difficult?"Hannah's expression turned stern, her finger wagging in reprimand. "No, no, no. You're getting ahead of yourself. Let's establish the rules here, because we're only doing this my way. I ask the questions, and you answer. Understood?" Sheila's eyes rolled heavenward, her disdain for Hannah's condescending tone clear.“Now, what brought you to Anavrin?” Hannah began."I thought you said you know every
Shortly after, the duo reappeared in another spacious sitting as if they had traveled through dimensions and arrived in another world. The strong aura and energy the magic took to transport them was so strong that it brought Sheila back to her consciousness. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open to an unfamiliar ceiling. She was disoriented, but as her gaze swept the room, memories began to resurface. She saw the elderly woman in her long, luscious grey hair, standing over her. She was chanting in a low, deep, menacing tone, words Sheila couldn't make out the language it was in.Sheila's gaze flickered around to scrutinize her surroundings. The room she found herself in was an unusually cozy, island-inspired space with vibrant colors and lush greenery. Woven bamboo furniture and colorful textiles added to the Jamaican vibe. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the faint hint of jerk seasoning. Rows of red and white candles were burning on ornate candle stands tha
She? Who is She? Sheila's mind reeled. But before she could question the boy's words, she heard the door opposite Timmy's creak open. She felt a sudden unsettling presence approaching her from behind, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on an end. Although her senses were not as heightened as they normally were, her many years of honed instinct screamed warning that put her on immediate alert. Through the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of an eerie shadow looming on the wall and drawing closer to her. She immediately turned her head to confront the presence, and her eyes locked onto the woman who had brought her to this place. But the warm, friendly face Sheila remembered had twisted into a malevolent scowl that showed utter hostility and nothing less. The woman's voice was low and menacing, uttering words that sounded like an ancient incantation. Her right hand was clenched into a fist, with her palm facing utward, as if she was conjuring some dark energy.Sheila
Sheila trailed behind the woman, navigating a desolate alleyway scarred by vibrant graffiti. The ground was littered with dirt and debris, while abandoned cars lined the streets, their rusting hulks a testament to the area's neglect. As they walked, the only sounds being the soft crunch of gravel beneath their shoes, Sheila's mind began to wander. What motivated this woman to help her? She focused her super-sensitive hearing on the woman's heartbeat, but it remained calm and steady, reassuring her that the woman's intentions seemed genuine.With renewed confidence, Sheila followed the woman as they climbed into a broad, dimly lit tunnel. The air inside was stale and musty, filled with the scent of decay. As they emerged from the tunnel, Sheila's eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, revealing a sprawling landscape of old, worn buildings. They stood in a small, rundown ghetto area, the walls of the buildings covered in a kaleidoscope of graffiti, while broken windows gaped like empty e
Sheila trudged down the rain-soaked streets of Anavrin, her eyes fixed on the Google map that was displayed on her phone screen. Her face was twisted in a scowl as she stormed her boots on the soil tracks. The acrid smell of mud and dirt, the exhaust fumes of car engines, and the musky scents of nearby alleys clung onto her nostrils like a challenge.She had been searching for what felt like hours now, and her patience was starting to wear thin. Using the I web and her miniature tech skills, and also the eyewitness’s social media accounts she had inspected, the boy who had been saved by the mysterious woman was named Timmy, and he lived somewhere in this neighborhood. As she turned a corner, her eyes scanned the street, taking in the rows of mediocre houses and apartment buildings. She briefly stopped in front of a small bakery, the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread wafting out into the street. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she had skipped breakfast.Consulting her phone a