Deep in the forest, hunters moved silently, at the front of the group was Chris Argent, his eyes sharp, and every step measured.
They were tracking,
the most dangerous kind of target—the Alpha. The apex of any werewolf pack. Stronger, faster, and with healing abilities that made them nearly unstoppable… especially under the full moon.
Chris crouched down, examining a fresh set of tracks in the dirt.
"Even the strongest can bleed," he muttered. His eyes narrowed. "And luckily for us… this one's alone. Which means the only thing standing between it and the grave—"
He rose to his feet, steady and calm.
"—is us."
Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the woods.
Snap.
Chris and his men moved in instantly, weapons raised, eyes scanning the woods.
"You know," Chris said, his voice calm but sharp, "you're pretty hard to find."
He stepped forward, gaze fixed ahead.
"Most people would wonder—why is an Alpha killing random civilians?"
He shook his head.
"But they're not random, are they? The hiker you killed… she worked at Beacon Hills Hospital. Not just that—she also had ties to the Argents. She was one of our informants. Reported any supernatural activity directly to us."
Chris's tone darkened.
"So yeah… you've got our attention, wolf."
A deep growl rumbled in the distance—low, threatening.
Suddenly, a massive black-furred beast lunged from the shadows, its crimson eyes glowing with rage.
"Fire!" Chris shouted.
Gunshots erupted through the forest, echoing like thunder.
Ravens scattered into the sky, their wings slicing through the air—harbingers of death, as if mourning the souls about to fall.
The Werewolf—on two powerful legs—moved like a blur. It tore through the armed men with savage precision, its claws slicing through flesh and armor in a single sweep.
Men screamed in terror as their lives were torn away before their eyes.
Before they could regroup, the werewolf leapt back into the trees, vanishing behind the cover of the forest.
Chris, breathing hard, quickly drew his crossbow, its bolt laced with silver.
"Hold your positions!" he barked. "Everyone, stay sharp!"
A long silence hung in the air as the remaining men scanned the forest, weapons aimed and breaths held.
It was using the trees—smart.
Chris remained on high alert, eyes scanning the treeline for the slightest movement.
Then—
"You boys clearly need my help," came a voice from behind.
A middle aged man with blonde hair strolled into view, casually lighting a cigarette.
The hunters immediately turned and aimed their weapons.
"Who the hell are you?" Chris demanded, weapon drawn and eyes narrowed.
"John Constantine. How do you do?" he replied with a smirk, the cigarette now between his lips.
Chris narrowed his eyes, clearly unamused.
"Oh, I'm a witch—or wizard—whatever you prefer," John said, walking calmly between them and toward the trees. "Now, sorry to say, you lot are going to have a hard time killing this one."
He stopped, his gaze fixed on the dark woods ahead.
"It carries revenge in its heart. And it doesn't play games when death is certain. It may look weak, but that's just a disguise. So… who really walked into whose trap?"
John raised a hand and muttered, "Vita Revela."
A soft glow emitted from his palm, his eyes briefly flashing with arcane light. A wave of knowledge flooded into him.
"Pity," he muttered, lowering his hand. "It's already gone."
"Man lower your weapons" Chris commanded
"You're a Constantine. I know your family—you specialize in demon exorcisms, not solving werewolf hunts."
He shrugged casually.
"That I do. But as it happens, my son goes to school in this godforsaken town. And as an amazing dad, it's my job to make sure he's safe… above all else."
Then, like roaring thunder, a distant howl echoed through the forest.
John's expression turned grim.
"Chris Argent… there's another reason I'm here."
Chris narrowed his eyes.
"Go on."
"This rogue Alpha? It's the least of your worries. You so-called hunters should pack up and leave… before something worse shows up."
"Is that a threat?" Chris asked, tense.
John let out a low chuckle.
"You humans always think you're in control—until you're running scared from things you don't understand. This isn't just some beast. Something else is coming. I don't know what yet… but I know enough to warn you."
He turned to leave.
"Wait—how do you know something's coming?" Chris called out.
John glanced over his shoulder with a smirk.
"I've got my ways. But don't worry… I'm sure this town will be in capable hands," he said with a casual shrug.
So… are you packing your bags yet?" John said.
"We're not going anywhere," Chris replied.
John sighed, unsurprised.
"Figured as much." He lit another cigarette. "Now if you'll excuse me… I've got plans with my son."
Beyond the distant fields, figures sprinted across the open land—robes billowing, swords gleaming in the fading light.
With swift precision, they cut down ghouls, one after another, their movements honed and lethal.
But then—he appeared.
A lone figure stepped into their path, calm and composed, as though he had all the time in the world.
"My, my… what an unexpected delight," the man said smoothly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Vampires."
The armed vampires halted, tension crackling in the air. The stranger's eyes drifted to the crest upon their armor.
"Ah… the Valentine's Coven. A rather storied lineage, if the tales are to be believed." He tilted his head, tone still disarmingly polite. "This is quite the encounter."
"You're… Elijah, aren't you?" one of them asked, a note of unease in his voice.
"So you've heard of me," Elijah replied. "Then you'll understand why I dislike wasting time."
The vampires raised their swords, defenses rising with silent precision.
Elijah remained unbothered, his voice smooth as velvet.
"There are whispers," he said, stepping forward, "that your coven possesses a rather… singular artifact. The Sun Pendant."
He paused, eyes locking with theirs.
"A relic of considerable interest to me—and of no small importance."
His gaze sharpened.
"Tell me where it is—and I shall allow you to leave, unharmed. Refuse…"
A pause.
"Well," Elijah said, adjusting his cufflinks with effortless grace, "I trust your imagination can fill in the rest."
One of the vampires stepped forward, eyes defiant. "We are loyal to her grace. We won't tell you a damn thing."
Elijah let out a soft, almost regretful sigh. "A shame, truly. Loyalty is admirable… even when it borders on foolishness."
He slipped off his coat, folding it neatly over his arm before placing it on a nearby rock.
"Now, let's see…" he murmured, his voice almost a whisper as he looked them over. "Which one of you shall die first?"