The forest reeked of iron and pine resin. Lucas' claws sank into the moss as he staggered between moonlit birches, his breath condensing into frost that clung to his matted fur. Somewhere in the haze of his wolf-mind, he remembered this scent—cherry blossoms and solder smoke, clinging to the edges of a silver hairpin.
He tore through a hunter's snare, the wire snapping against his ribs. Blood seeped into the soil, awakening bioluminescent fungi that pulsed like Ayla's cursed necklace. The trap's remnants glinted: steel teeth welded with Neuman family crests.
(Three miles south, Lila's pen scratched feverishly in her diary. Each bruise on her wrist mirrored the lacerations on his haunches.)
II. The Blooming Curse
The hairpin lay half-buried in a fox's den, its sakura petals warped from years of rain. Lucas' jaws closed around it—then froze. Engraved on the clasp was a child's scrawl:
"HOME"
Lila's handwriting. The same crooked 'M' she'd etched into his workshop bench at age six, when he'd promised to build her a treehouse.
(Flashback: Selena's laboratory, steel restraints biting into Lila's ankles. "Say it again," Selena cooed, pressing a scalpel to her sister's throat. "The prettiest lies taste like honey.")
A howl tore from his throat. The sound rattled icicles from branches, revealing graffiti beneath:
THEY CAGE US IN OUR OWN BONESTHE MOON IS A LOCKED DOOR
III. Catalyst's Whisper
Selena's hunters circled the clearing, their crossbows loaded with vials of murky liquid. "Prime specimen," one muttered, adjusting his thermal goggles. "Lady Selena wants the catalyst tested before dawn."
Lucas lunged. His claws shattered a vial mid-air, releasing gas that smelled of Lila's childhood soap. Memories flooded him—Ayla binding his broken fingers after Selena's "training sessions," her hands trembling as she whispered, "Breathe through the pain. Mercy requires precision."
(Present: The hunter's scream curdled as Lucas' fangs found his jugular. Blood splattered the hairpin, activating a hologram—baby Lila laughing in a crib adorned with Neuman gears and wolf claws.)
IV. Fractured Syntax
Dawn approached. Lucas collapsed by a frozen stream, the hairpin's edges digging into his palm. Moonlight refracted through ice, projecting words onto the forest floor:
"Sister's voice tastes like wintergreen. She stitches lies into my marrow."
—Lila's diary, translated from Selena's fabricated vampire tongue.
The projection flickered, revealing coordinates to a ruined observatory where Selena's childhood dolls lay dissected, their porcelain limbs wired to surveillance monitors.
(Ayla's voice echoed from the hairpin's micro-recorder: "The 'home' she drew was never a place, Lucas. It's whatever's left when all the cages break.")
V. Eclipse's Revelation
As the moon darkened, Lucas buried the hairpin beneath a lightning-struck oak. His claws carved a response into the bark:
"FORGIVE"
The 'O' bled sap that crystallized into cherry blossoms. Somewhere in the medical wing, Lila's IV bag bloomed with the same flowers.
Selena's laughter drifted through the pines. "Such a sentimental mutt," she purred into a hunter's comms. "Double the catalyst dosage. Let's see if his tears can rust my gears."