Markus peered through the blinds of his apartment, his breath shallow as his eyes locked onto the figure standing at the other end of the parking lot.

  It was shaped just like the small fox-like creatures from before but whereas those things barely reached two feet tall, this one easily stood at six or seven feet. Even though the night obscured most details, Markus could make out the pure white fur covering its body and, more ominously, the gargantuan halberd slung across its back. Despite the dozen or so meters between them, Markus knew with bone-deep certainty that it was looking directly at him.

  A cold, sick feeling settled in his stomach as his heart pounded against his ribs. His instincts screamed at him to move, to act, but he remained frozen for a moment, trapped in that horrible gaze.

  Then, as if responding to some unseen signal, the white fox creature took a single step forward. Markus’s body finally reacted. He spun away from the window and sprinted into his bedroom, dropping to his knees as he yanked a small metal box from beneath his bed. His hands fumbled with the latch before flipping it open.

  Inside, nestled in a thin layer of foam, was his Colt Diamondback revolver, along with a few dozen .38 rounds. His father had given it to him when he moved out for college, insisting on the importance of self-defense in an area he didn't quite know.

  At the time he blew it off and hadnt thought about it but right now, Markus had never been more grateful for it. His fingers shook as he loaded the cylinder, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. He needed to calm down—needed to think—but every fiber of his being was locked in pure survival mode.

  Once the cylinder was fully loaded and clicked into place, he hurried back to the window, gripping the weapon tightly as he scanned the parking lot.

  But the white fox creature was gone.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  Where—?

  A deafening crash shattered the silence as a massive halberd burst through the wall, slicing through the air where his head had been just seconds before. Chunks of drywall and shattered wood erupted into the room, sending debris flying in all directions. His ears rang from the force of the impact, his vision swimming. His mind screamed MOVE!, but his body was sluggish, still caught in the shock of the attack.

  Through the gaping hole in the wall, the white fox creature stepped through, its blood-red eyes gleaming in the dim light of the apartment. It was grinning—a feral, sharp-toothed smile that sent an icy wave of terror through Markus’s chest.

  He didn’t even bother to think as he raised the revolver and fired. The gunshot roared, the bullet slamming dead center into the chest which caused it to slightly stagger. For a brief moment, Markus was relieved before he watched as the bullet plopped onto the ground. Bloody, but barely effective.

  Markus’s stomach twisted again.

  What…How?

  The white fox creature’s expression barely shifted, though its ears flicked in mild annoyance. With a low snarl, it lifted its halberd once more and lunged forward. Markus barely managed to dodge, tripping over himself as the blade sliced through the air with terrifying speed. It impacted the floor, slicing right through into the room below.

  Markus’s back hit the kitchen counter, his mind scrambling for options. His gun was useless. The fox creature was too fast. He needed to do something—anything! His eyes darted to a glass jar he had kept on the counter.

  Without even thinking and being all but desperate at this point, he grabbed it and hurled it at the fox creature's face. The glass shattered on impact, shards embedding into its fur and eyes. Though the glass in its fur fell to the ground harmlessly, enough had gotten into its eyes that it let out a sharp snarl, covering its face as it was momentarily disoriented.

  That was all Markus needed. Without hesitation, he bolted through the destroyed wall, launching himself over the railing outside. His stomach lurched as he dropped down, landing hard on the paved ground before rolling into a full sprint. Behind him, a furious howl filled the night.

  Markus ran. His legs burned, and his breath came in ragged gasps, but he forced himself to keep moving. He had barely made it halfway across the parking lot when he felt something strike his leg.

  Pain exploded through his left thigh as he crashed onto the pavement, skidding across the rough concrete. Dazed and confused, he looked down and saw a crudely made arrow lodged in his leg, its black fletchings positioned at an odd angle.

  His pulse spiked as he lifted his gaze. From the shadows, dozens of the smaller fox creatures had gathered. His blood went cold. The white fox creature landed gracefully behind them, stepping forward with an amused bark—a laugh.

  Markus gritted his teeth and raised the revolver with shaky hands.

  He fired. Missed.

  Fired again. Another miss.

  The white fox creature barely seemed concerned. With one swift motion, it knocked the gun from his grip, sending it clattering onto the pavement.

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  Markus barely had time to react before the halberd came down. Pain erupted through his chest as the spike on top of it pierced through him. He choked, blood bubbling past his lips. His vision darkened, everything fading into a distant blur. He was dying and he knew it. He feebly raised his arms, trying to grab the gun from where it had been tossed but stopped only a few inches short.

  The last thing he saw was the white fox creature turning away, growling for the others to follow.

  Then—

  A glitching screen flickered into existence beside him.

  ***

  From the depths of pain and fading consciousness, something sparked. A whisper of energy, cold yet burning, surged through Markus’s broken body. A heart began beating in his chest. But not his own.

  Then—fire.

  The group of creatures was only a few meters away when the body behind them exploded, catching their attention immediately. One of the smaller fox creatures let out a sharp, panicked yelp, scrambling backward as the unnatural green fire twisted and writhed across the pavement. The flames pulsed, consuming the body they had left behind—but instead of turning to ash, it moved.

  Markus’s hand twitches.

  His fingers dug into the concrete, the blackened surface cracking beneath his grip as his body jerked upright in an unnatural, inhuman motion. His head snapped back, his glowing, green-lit eyes locking onto the fox-creatures like a predator who had just been awakened as his skin burned away, revealing the white and now blackening bones underneath.

  The creatures froze.

  They had seen humans fight, struggle, and even kill some of their own, as was the case with the being in front of them. Yet throughout the clan’s history, never before had they seen one come back from death.

  Markus meanwhile felt empty—no, hollow. His heart, not his own, pounded unnaturally in his chest, sending tremors through his now skeletal limbs. His mind felt foggy, and distant, as though something else had crawled into his skull and taken up residence. But he didn't care anymore

  It was then that from the very depths of his being, came the hunger.

  Not for food.

  For death.

  The white fox creature turned slowly, its confident smirk wiped away, replaced by something close to shock. It only took the large creature a second to realize the danger both it and its clan-mates were and acted.

  A sharp, guttural bark erupted from its throat—a command. The smaller fox creatures, still frozen in wide-eyed terror, scrambled backward, their instincts at war between fight and flight.

  But Markus was already moving.

  His body lurched forward unnaturally, his form a streak of green fire and bone, closing the distance between them in less than a breath.

  The white fox creature reacted fast, its warrior instincts overriding its fear. It dropped low, twisting its body and swinging its halberd toward Markus’s midsection, aiming to cleave him in half—even if it meant using all of its available strength to do so.

  It didn’t matter.

  Markus didn’t dodge.

  He didn’t need to.

  The blade slammed into his torso—and shattered, breaking apart on impact like brittle glass.

  The white fox creature’s ears flattened, its red eyes widening in horrified disbelief.

  Its weapon—the same weapon that had killed dozens of beings and even this human just moments ago—was now useless.

  Markus was upon it almost instantly.

  His blackened, skeletal arm shot forward, fingers clamping around the fox creature’s throat like a vise.

  The beast snarled, its claws raking desperately at Markus’s arm, but it couldn’t land a hit. The flames covering Markus’s body scorched away any attempt, its attacks burning it in return.

  The white fox creature thrashed, legs kicking, tail whipping wildly—but it was trapped.

  For the first time, it felt preyed upon.

  Markus’s grip tightened. The bones in his fingers creaked under the pressure, his body filled with nothing but hunger and rage.

  The white fox creature’s snarls turned into choked gasps for air. Its once fierce, unshakable confidence crumbled into sheer panic.

  Markus could feel it.

  The fear.

  The desperation.

  A slow, awful grin spread across his now almost entirely skeletal face, revealing teeth that felt sharper than before.

  From the ground behind him, the revolver snapped into his other hand. It glowed red-hot, the metal warping under the influence of the green flames, reshaped into something more, something…new.

  Markus raised the gun and, with no hesitation, shoved the barrel into the fox creature’s mouth.

  Its eyes widened—and for the first time in its long life, it felt true horror.

  Markus pulled the trigger.

  The world seemed to slow for a second as the roar of the gun echoed throughout the parking lot, but the bullet that fired wasn’t ordinary.

  It was wreathed in green flames, a blazing streak of pure spectral energy, tearing through the fox creature’s skull and igniting it from the inside out. The creature convulsed violently, its limbs flailing, claws curling, as the green flames consumed it from within.

  A single, high-pitched screech escaped its throat—before the fire silenced it forever. Its flesh burned away in seconds, reduced to nothing but embers and smoke. And then, all that remained were its bones—perfect, pearly white, untouched by the fire.

  The remaining creatures stood frozen, their faces locked in expressions of sheer terror.

  They had believed themselves hunters, killers, the rulers of the night as ordained by their shamans.

  But now, they understood the truth.

  The thing standing before them was no longer human but instead, a devil.

  Markus turned toward them, his skull wreathed in green fire, his eyes twin pits of glowing, burning emeralds.

  That was all it took.

  The creatures ran.

  Without hesitation, they turned and fled, scrambling over one another in a maddening panic as their desperate rush to escape reached its peak. Their chief, their alpha, had been annihilated in an instant—they stood no chance.

  Markus took one step forward, his breath coming out in wisps of black smoke. The power still burned inside him, surging with every movement. The urge to chase, to hunt, to slaughter clawed at his mind. To erase everything that dared exist in his path. But before he could take another step—his body failed him.

  The fires flickered.

  Then, they were snuffed out entirely.

  He felt his knees buckle, and he collapsed onto the pavement, his body drained, his limbs trembling as his vision swam. He gasped for breath, his limbs twitching, struggling to move—but they wouldn’t obey. It only took a matter of seconds before his consciousness slipped away, leaving him alone in the parking lot with the remains of the creature.

  ***

  Standing atop a building just across the street from the apartment, a figure watched the motionless body of Markus. It had been watching since Markus had returned to the building, his fight and rebirth and then his victory. It had remained still, unmoving, observing everything as if it had been waiting for this moment.

  The green flames had long since faded, but the echoes of their unnatural energy still clung to the air, distorting the night like a heat mirage. The scent of burned flesh had dissipated, replaced only by the faint metallic tang of something otherworldly.

  The figure’s dark green eyes—piercing and unreadable—remained locked on Markus’s motionless form.

  Finally.

  After so long.

  A Grave-Touched to be inducted.