Chapter Text
He sat up slowly, breath catching in the cold, damp air. Moisture clung to his bare skin, yet each inhale burned dry in his lungs. The scent of living vegetation mingled with the faint rot of decay, grounding him in a place both vibrant and dying. Beneath him, the earth was unforgiving, rocky and rigid, though a brittle layer of moss softened its bite.
Above, a fluttering shape darted through the canopy, fleeing from a distant cacophony. He turned toward the sound, chaotic, grating. A multitude of beings crashed through brush and branch, shouting guttural noises that resembled language but felt crude and ineffective. Even from upwind, their stench reached him: smoke, sweat, and something unmistakably human.
The word surfaced unbidden. Humans. Why it mattered, or why his mind offered fragments while withholding the whole, he couldn’t say.
Around him, the forest responded. Larger creatures slipped away with ease, while smaller ones scattered in frantic terror. Then, beside him, a new heartbeat began. Calm. Measured.
He turned toward the source. A scent met him: familiar, yet distinct. The figure was male, nearly his size, radiating warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill embedded in his own body. The being seemed to coalesce from the air itself, muscle and form emerging from nothing.
He reached out, fingertips grazing the stranger’s chest, tracing the contours of a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. The other lay still, canine ears nestled in soft hair, clawed hands dusted with fur, a long tail curled beside him. The awake one studied the sleeper with quiet awe.
Then, green eyes snapped open, vivid and dangerous. The stranger sat up abruptly, recoiling from the touch.
“Don’t touch me,” he snarled, scanning the clearing. Though the forest was cloaked in night, he could see clearly. The other had glinting gray hair, a single red streak cutting through his bangs. His furred ears and hands were black as shadow.
The gray-haired one tilted his head, eyes glowing eerily. “Forgive me. What are you?”
“I’m…” The red-haired one faltered, glancing down. His own tail shimmered with vibrant red, his hair echoing the other’s streak, while a silver lock mirrored the stranger’s fur. Aside from color, they were identical, claws, teeth, ears, eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I’m what you are.”
“I don’t know what I am,” the silver replied, running a hand over his own form. Silence stretched between them, thick with uncertainty.
Then, softly: “I think my name is Luke Bowen. What’s yours?”
The red hesitated. “Chris.”
Luke reached out again, brushing Chris’s jaw and cheek. This time, Chris leaned into the touch, instinctively drawn to it. Luke’s hand was cold, but oddly comforting.
“You’re just like me,” Luke murmured. “Your scent is nearly the same.” A slow, giddy smile spread across his face. “You must be my brother.”
Chris blinked. “Brothers? But we’re so different.”
“You’re warmer. Your voice is deeper. Your scent’s a little richer. But we’re the same kind. Nothing else is like us.”
Chris offered a tentative smile. “Brothers.”
They sat together for a while, studying each other, memorizing. Then Luke’s ears twitched, alert. “We need to go,” he said, rising too fast. His legs buckled.
Chris followed, stumbling. They fell, scrambled, rose again. The forest resisted, but they adapted. Each step steadied them. Each fall taught them balance. Soon, they moved with growing confidence, slipping through the underbrush with less noise.
Chris heard it now too, the crashing, shouting, the fire. The beings were close.
As they crested a ridge, Chris glanced back. The figures behind them resembled them in shape but lacked tails. Their bodies were wrapped in strange coverings, and they carried fire and blades.
He turned and sprinted after Luke. They were learning to run.
~
For weeks, the brothers roamed, learning the rhythms of the wild world they’d awakened into. The forest teemed with life. Creatures small and swift, others towering and slow. Some wore feathers, others fur. One species in particular caught their attention: a pack of large canines, eerily similar in build and movement to themselves. Yet no matter the creature, all fled at the sight of the Bowens.
With each burst of speed, Luke and Chris gave chase. Their bodies moved with terrifying precision, closing the distance in seconds. The hunt ended violently, instinct overriding thought. Within days, their ravenous appetites had outpaced even their capacity to consume. Overfed and unsettled, they began to learn restraint. How to temper the urge to kill, how to hunt only what they needed.
Their favorite prey soon became the antlered beasts, massive, muscular, and defiant. These creatures ran hard and fought harder, but none could outrun the brothers. Hundreds of pounds of flesh vanished in a single sitting, leaving behind only gnawed bones and blood-soaked earth.
It was at one such kill site, amid a skeleton stripped nearly clean, that a hunting party arrived. The leader crouched beside the remains, fingers brushing claw marks etched deep into bone.
“Alpha,” one of the males said, nudging a femur with his boot, “looks like another Umbra’s been born.”
A female snorted. “We can all see that. What’s less obvious is the second set of tracks. Two scents. Two males. Looks like we’ve got a pair of newborns.”
This was no human hunting party. These were werewolves, the very kind that appeared so similar to humans yet were instinctively feared.
The black-furred Alpha turned toward the faint trail leading away from the kill. “Wolves, move out. We’re bringing pups home today, not meat.”
The second-in-command scoffed. “I’ll get us a kill while the rest of you chase down the pups.”
The Alpha’s gaze hardened. “Your strength is the pack. To hunt alone is folly. These newborns are vulnerable. One day, they may hunt beside you.”
Chastened, the younger wolf bowed his head. The pack surged forward, moving with supernatural speed, following the erratic but purposeful trail left by the brothers. Miles passed. Dozens, then more. Along the way, they found other skeletons, each stripped clean, each marked by the same signature claws.
Finally, they crested a ridge overlooking a wide hollow. Below, two figures, one silver, one red, were crouched over a fresh kill, tearing into it with feral intensity.
The pack slowed, approaching with deliberate care. As they drew near, the silver-haired one rose, snarling a warning, eyes glowing with instinctive threat.
The Alpha stepped forward, calm and unflinching. “Be at peace,” he said. “We are kin.”
The silver-haired one remained coiled for a fight, muscles taut, eyes locked on the pack. But the red was staring, wide-eyed and silent at the Umbra who looked so much like them.
“One cannot be a friend if they’ve never met,” the silver growled, low and distrustful.
“What are you?” the red asked, voice tinged with wonder.
The Alpha smiled, faintly amused. These two were sharper than most newborns, less dazed, more instinctively aware. That kind of clarity was rare, and it intrigued him.
“We are werewolves,” he said. “I am the Alpha.”
The red turned to the silver, eyes alight. “Luke, that must be what we are! Werewolves!”
Luke’s gaze narrowed. “And what does that mean?”
The red shrugged, uncertain, then bristled as a few pack members shifted forward. The Alpha raised a calming hand.
“It means,” he said gently, “we are a fusion of human and wolf. Werewolves are a species of Umbra. Umbra or Shadows are born from human fear.”
The brothers exchanged a glance, clearly not understanding. The red hunched protectively over their kill, voice sharp. “Leave.”
But the Alpha pressed on, sensing the moment hadn’t yet closed. “We’re not here to take anything. We’d like you to come back with us to our village. We’d welcome you into our pack.”
Luke tilted his head. “Why have a pack?”
“To have a family,” the Alpha replied. “A pack hunts together, protects each other. You’ll never go hungry. You’ll never be alone.”
That line always worked. Newborns were vulnerable, instinctively drawn to structure and safety. But Luke didn’t flinch. His stance eased, but his voice remained firm.
“I already have a family. We’re good at hunting. We don’t need your pack.”
The pack froze, jaws slack with disbelief. No one had ever refused before.
The Alpha studied them anew. “Who’s in your pack?”
“My brother,” Luke said simply, gesturing toward the red.
The younger alpha scoffed. “Umbra don’t have brothers.”
Chris lunged to his feet, snarling. The Alpha stepped between them, voice commanding. “Stand down. Just because it’s never happened doesn’t mean it can’t.”
He turned to the brothers. “What are your names?”
Chris remained silent, eyes locked on the lesser alpha. Luke answered for them. “I’m Luke Bowen. My brother is Chris.”
The Alpha nodded. “An honor. It’s rare to find newborns who’ve survived long enough to hunt, let alone form a bond. You’ve built a small pack of your own. But if you’d consider joining ours, even for a time, we could teach you what you are. What this world is. And,” he added dryly, “about clothing.”
Several pack members were visibly distracted, eyes lingering on the brothers’ bare forms, pheromones thick in the air.
Chris stayed wary, but curiosity flickered beneath his scowl. Luke, meanwhile, seemed calm, less concerned with danger, more intrigued by possibility.
“Maybe we should go with them,” he said quietly. “We keep asking each other questions we can’t answer.”
It took a full day for the pack to return to their village, the two pups trailing behind like shadows. There, the brothers were given clothes. Rrough-spun fabric, unfamiliar textures, and taught how to wear them. In the days that followed, they were passed from one Were to another, absorbing lessons with wide-eyed intensity. The Alpha watched closely, not just amused by their childlike wonder, but wary. These two had survived longer than most Umbra before being found. They knew how to fight. How to kill. If they couldn’t be softened, they could become dangerous.
To his relief, Chris began to relax. The red-haired pup no longer flinched at every movement or bristled at every touch. But the Alpha’s attention shifted to Luke. Cheerful, flirtatious, and eager to learn, yet always alert. The silver one positioned himself subtly between Chris and others, facing the strongest nearby, always ready. He did it so quietly, so naturally, that few noticed. But the Alpha did.
Something else nagged at him. Beyond behavior, something about Luke felt… off. The brothers were opposites in temperament, yet eerily similar in form. When shown new things, Chris would observe from a distance, calculating. Luke, by contrast, would touch, sniff, explore with animated curiosity. It was tactile learning, yes, but it felt like something more.
The realization came on a warm afternoon by the lake. One of the she-wolves had taken the brothers to teach them about plants.
“See this flower?” she said, pointing to a white blossom dusted with pink. “Its roots are edible. But this one, almost identical, is poisonous. The difference is the mark on its leaves.”
Chris nodded, absorbing the information. Luke stared blankly.
She picked another flower, holding it out. “This one’s my favorite. It’s not edible, but it’s bright.”
Luke touched the petals. “What do you mean, bright?”
“The color,” she explained. “It’s a bright color.”
Luke sniffed the flower and winced. “Which part is the color?”
Confused, she glanced at the Alpha, who stepped forward.
“Hello, pups,” he said gently. “Learning about plants?”
“Yes!” Luke beamed. “This beautiful wolf was telling us about pink, white, green, and bright flowers!”
Chris snorted, amused. The she-wolf blushed. But the Alpha didn’t smile. He plucked two blossoms of the same kind, one pale, one vivid, and handed them to Luke.
“What’s the difference between these?”
Luke felt the petals, brow furrowed. “One’s scent is stronger.”
“Anything else?”
He studied them intently. “No. They’re the same.”
The Alpha tried another test. “What’s on the other side of the lake?”
Luke’s ears twitched. He didn’t turn his head. “Branches. A herd of hooved animals is walking there. They’re cracking twigs. Some Weres are trying to sneak up on them.”
The Alpha couldn’t hear any of it. But moments later, the herd and hunters broke into view. He turned back to Luke, raised a hand in front of the pup’s green eyes. The pupils didn’t react. Yet Luke reached out and caught the hand.
The Alpha moved again. Luke’s head turned, but his eyes remained still.
“You can’t see, can you?”
Luke tilted his head. “What is see?”
The she-wolf giggled. “You’re both silly. Weres have amazing eyesight. Umbra are perfect reflections of fear. Luke’s just teasing.”
“No,” the Alpha said quietly. “Luke has exceptional hearing. But he truly cannot see shape or color.”
It explained everything, the way Luke touched to understand, the way he navigated by sound and scent. He was blind. And yet, he had adapted with grace and precision.
Chris stepped forward, searching his brother’s eyes. “What do I look like?”
Luke placed a hand on Chris’s jaw. Chris leaned into the touch.
“You’re exactly like me,” Luke said. “Same ears, same fur, same face, same build.”
Chris frowned. “We’re not the same. My fur is red. Yours is gray. If we didn’t say we were brothers, no one would know.”
“Then they’re blind,” Luke replied, voice firm. “Color doesn’t matter. What matters is who you are. You’re my brother. We were born together. Made the same. Your red is only for those who don’t know you.”
Chris blinked, startled. But a smile crept across his face, and his tail began to wag. To him, this was just another difference. But to the Alpha, it was something more.
Luke’s blindness would bring challenges. But for now, there was no need to burden the pups with that truth. They had each other. And that, for now, was enough.
Chapter Text
Word spread quickly through the pack: one of the new pups was blind.
Those who had once lingered near the brothers, drawn by their striking forms and youthful energy, began to drift away. A pack was meant to support all its members, but weakness, however unfairly defined, still deterred those seeking the strongest mates. Most of the pack continued to teach the brothers with patience and warmth. A few, less kind, tried to trip the blind wolf for sport. Luke returned the favor with good-natured precision. Never missing, never angry.
Neither brother gained status. Neither joined the hunts. And neither cared.
They built a modest home on the village’s edge, where the trees thinned and the soil softened. There, they learned to grow food. For predators, farming was a quiet disgrace. But the Bowens didn’t flinch. Over the decades, they cultivated fruits, grains, and vegetables. Enough to feed the pack through lean seasons. They helped where they could, asked for nothing, and remained content.
But the forest changed.
The Kilak, massive, antlered beasts, grew more aggressive. Though they remained the most abundant prey, the werewolves began to avoid them. Their antlers were deadly, their hooves sharp. Lesser prey was hunted and stored for winter, but it wasn’t enough.
When the cold came, the Bowen’s stores became the village’s lifeline. Yet meat was scarce, and Umbra needed flesh. Hunger gnawed at the pack’s edges. Bloodlust stirred.
Desperation drove the Alpha to gather his hunters and pursue the Kilak herds. The village waited anxiously for their return. They came back with a few kills. Too little meat, too many wounds. Several wolves were nearly lost. The Alpha watched his injured pack limp home and made his decision.
“No more Kilak,” he said, voice heavy. “We won’t risk lives. We’ll survive until spring.”
The villagers dispersed, quiet and grim.
Chris walked beside his brother, sensing the shift in Luke’s thoughts though no sign betrayed it. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. They reached their home before Luke spoke.
“The pack won’t make it,” Luke said, voice low. “They’ll turn on each other before spring. I know I’ve kept us from the hunts, but… I think it’s time. We need to go. We need to hunt.”
He reached for a satchel and began filling it with dried vegetables.
Chris nodded. “I’ve been wanting to hunt again.”
They curled into their nest of furs and blankets, warmth pressed between them. The village slept. The hunger waited. And the Bowen brothers prepared to face the forest once more.
Morning frost clung to the ground as the Bowen brothers began their trek away from the village. They hadn’t gone far when a tired voice called out behind them. “I said no more Kilak hunts.” The Alpha stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, weariness etched into his face. “I know you don’t join the hunts often, but you can’t go now.”
Chris lowered his gaze, shame flickering across his features. But Luke didn’t stop. He turned, shoulders squared.
“We’re going,” the silver said simply.
The Alpha blinked. No one had challenged him in years.
“We all know we won’t make it to spring,” Luke continued. “There won’t be much left to hunt by then. Hope and willpower won’t feed us. We need meat. We need to hunt.”
Doors creaked open. Villagers emerged, drawn by the confrontation.
“I don’t want to be responsible for your deaths,” the Alpha said, voice heavy.
“You’re not,” Luke replied. “We’re responsible for our own lives now.”
The Alpha exhaled slowly. He should force the silver to submit, assert dominance, protect the pup from himself. But the village was starving. In weeks, they’d turn on each other. The Kilak wouldn’t be the greatest threat anymore.
And the Bowens… they were still half-feral. Young, yes... but dangerous. Against one, he might win. Against both, it would be a mistake.
“I wish I could stop you,” he said at last.
Luke offered only a smirk and turned away.
“I’ll go with you,” a male called out, jogging to catch up.
“I’ve got nothing better to do,” said another, shrugging.
A third joined them. “If I get killed, that’s one less mouth to feed.”
The brothers exchanged uncertain glances as their hunting party grew. Then, with deliberate swagger, a she-wolf strolled into the group.
“I guess I’m coming along to haul your dead bodies back,” she said dryly.
Chris looked at Luke, astonished. Luke just shrugged and kept walking.
As they left the snowbound village behind, the first male spoke up. “I’m Delri. You probably don’t know me... we’ve never formally met.”
“Of course you haven’t,” said the second. “You’re always being bossed around by the lesser alpha and his pack. I’m Jess.”
“And I’m Sibe,” said the third. “Didn’t expect you two to be alphas, but you sure stood up to Alpha.”
The she-wolf glanced at them. “I was in the hunting party that found you. You could’ve taken the lesser alpha easily. I’m Kira. I hope you’re still strong enough to hunt because the Kilak won’t go down easy.”
Luke grinned. “Thanks for the warning.”
~
They’d followed the herd’s trail for days, the snow crunching beneath their feet, breath fogging the air. Luke halted suddenly, ears twitching. “The Kilak are fifteen miles out,” he murmured. “Silence from here on. Jess, how much meat do we need to last until spring?”
Jess didn’t hesitate. “Twelve Kilak, minimum. That’s if we ration hard. More if anyone gets injured.”
Luke nodded, calculating. “Pair up. Go for instant kills or sever arteries and tendons. Chris and I will take the front. The rest of you circle to the rear.”
No one questioned him. They moved like shadows, splitting off into the frozen terrain. The herd grazed in uneasy quiet until the pack struck. Panic erupted. The Kilak rallied fast, forming a wall of muscle and antlers. For long minutes, it was a brutal stalemate, claws against hide, teeth against bone.
Then something shifted inside the herd. A fracture. The defense broke.
The Kilak fled.
The Umbra gave chase, relentless. Miles passed before they slowed, dragging their kills back through the snow. Luke and Chris rejoined them, bloodied but grinning, wounds already knitting closed.
They gathered at the attack site, breath steaming in the cold.
“That was a successful hunt,” Kira said, surveying the carcasses. “Delri and I got three. Oone before they grouped, two during the run.”
“We got five,” Sibe added proudly. “Two early, three in the chase.”
All eyes turned to the Bowens.
Chris flushed under the attention. “Twelve,” he mumbled.
Jaws dropped.
“No way,” Jess whispered.
Luke stepped in. “We got trapped in the center of the herd. Had to keep fighting just to stay alive.”
“That explains the state of you two,” Delri said, eyeing their torn clothes and healing gashes.
“How many did you get, Luke?” Kira asked.
“Seventeen,” he said, voice steady.
Silence.
“You’re the Alpha,” Sibe said, stunned.
Luke and Chris exchanged sheepish grins. “Alright,” Luke said as he turned in the direction of their pile, nose twitching slightly as his sense of smell compensated for his lack of sight. “We’ve got thirty-seven Kilak to haul home. Kira, can you manage three?”
She hesitated, eyeing the massive bodies. Each weighed over a ton. Then she nodded.
“We’ll take breaks,” Luke assured. “Jess, Sibe, Delri, five each. Chris and I will handle the rest.”
Delri gaped. “That’s over eighteen thousand pounds each!”
“We can handle it,” Chris said, already stacking his haul, preparing to drag them by the hind legs.
“Last hunt, I had to help carry our wounded,” Kira muttered. “Now we’ve got more meat than we can carry.”
Sibe chuckled. “We might need to limit how much they’re allowed to kill next time.”
They set off, each dragging their burden across broken, frozen terrain. Progress was slow. The cold bit deep. Muscles burned.
That night, as they settled around a low fire, Luke turned to Kira.
“How long will it take us to get home at this pace?”
She considered. “A week. Maybe more.”
~
For three days, they hauled their loads across frozen land, muscles burning, breath frosting in the air. Then the blizzard struck.
“Chris, any shelter nearby?” Luke shouted over the wind, his voice barely audible. His eyes closed to keep the wind and snow out of them as he was not able to look about for help.
“I can just make out an evergreen,” the red called back, squinting through the white chaos.
“Head for it. We wait out the storm.”
The trek was brutal. Snow lashed their faces, visibility vanished. But they reached the tree, stacking Kilak carcasses into a barricade against the wind. Beneath the shelter, they scavenged dead branches for firewood. their shelter warming to protect them. The storm howled into the night. The Weres huddled together, breath mingling, limbs tangled for warmth. Except Luke. The cold didn’t touch him. His body temperature ran low, unnatural, indifferent to frost.
Back in the village, Alpha stood at the edge of his den, watching snow bury roofs and paths.
“What’s wrong?” his mate asked softly.
“The storm,” he murmured. “It’ll last days. There’s a pack out there. If the Kilak don’t kill them, the cold might. I should’ve stopped them. But I couldn’t. Those brothers… they’re too wild. Too different. Tame wolves like us can’t hold them.”
She touched his arm. “Maybe that wildness is what will keep them alive.”
He nodded, listening to the wind scream louder than any wolf’s cry.
Three days passed before the blizzard broke. Snow had built a cocoon around the six Weres, insulating them. But now, a new challenge.
They dug through the thick wall, dragging frozen Kilak bodies out. Outside, the snow was so deep it swallowed them whole. Luke pressed forward, his unnatural strength carving a path through the dense, wet snow. Touch searching for a path that his vision would never find. But the meat, tons of it, had to be hauled too.
They could survive here. But the village couldn’t.
“We need to get back,” Luke said, voice firm. “It won’t get better if we stay. More storms are coming.”
He turned to Kira. “Keep us on course. We’ll rotate trail breakers. No breaks. When you’re tired, step aside and catch your breath while the rest keep moving.”
No one argued. They knew what was at stake.
~
What should have taken four days stretched into a week and a half. The snow was relentless, the loads unforgiving. By the time the small hunting pack reached the final stretch, they collapsed into the drifts, soaked, frozen, and spent. Muscles refused to lift them. Breath came in ragged gasps. They lay panting, buried in exhaustion.
“Let’s howl,” Luke murmured, voice frayed. “Maybe the village will hear us.”
Chris groaned. “Hopefully they’ll leave their warm dens if they do.”
“Yes, Alpha,” the others gasped, and a chorus of howls rose into the icy air.
It took time, but the village came. Breaking through the snow wall, Alpha at the lead. Rested Weres lifted the hunters and their kills with ease, carrying them home. Kira, Delri, Jess, and Sibe recounted the hunt in vivid detail as the frozen Kilak were hacked apart for meat and the pack thawed by firelight.
No one could believe it. The number of kills. The survival. The sheer will it had taken.
When Alpha turned to congratulate the leaders, the brothers were gone. It took a moment to find them, curled together in their home, dead asleep, buried in blankets and silence.
“Let them sleep,” Alpha said softly. “They’ve earned it.”
The next morning, the brothers were ushered to Alpha’s home, where the rest of their group had stayed the night. The fire crackled. The scent of thawed meat hung in the air.
“Despite challenging my authority and worrying me more than I care to admit,” Alpha said, “you did well. This will carry us through the winter. I meant to thank you last night, but you were already asleep.”
He smiled, eyes warm. “You do realize it’s tradition for the alphas of a hunting pack to prepare the first meal for my house?”
“Jess and Sibe are probably the strongest,” Chris offered. “They’d be honored.”
Alpha chuckled. “You’re both humble. But it’s your honor.”
Chris glanced at Luke, startled. Luke’s ears flicked in acknowledgment. Surprise, pride, quiet understanding before rising to prepare the meal. It no longer mattered that one of them was blind. They had become alphas, not by declaration, but by deed.
And as the scent of roasted meat filled the Alpha’s home, the rest of the village began to gather, drawn not just by hunger, but by something deeper. Those who had once kept their distance now lingered close. The search for mates had shifted. Strength had been redefined.
Chapter Text
Winter passed, and with the thaw came hope. Hhope for prey, for ease, for renewal. But the Kilak were all that remained. The highest alphas hunted relentlessly, returning with more wounds than meat. Eventually, Chris and Luke were pulled from their fields to lead the Kilak hunts. Their presence at the Alpha’s house became routine, echoing the days when the younger village alpha had once lingered there.
Another routine emerged: avoidance. The unmated villagers circled constantly, vying for attention. The higher alphas, stripped of status, grew hostile. Admiration had curdled into pressure.
Midway through summer, the brothers approached Alpha while he worked. He greeted them with a warm smile.
“We’re leaving,” Chris said.
The smile vanished.
Luke added, voice steady, “Chris and I have decided it’s safer to leave than risk being raped by the pack.”
Alpha chuckled, trying to defuse the tension. “You two Kilak hunters afraid of a few alpha-hungry Umbra?”
“Chris is,” Luke teased, then sobered. “We’re tired of being hunted by suitors. Before, they ignored us. Now they won’t leave us alone. The only ones we’d even consider are the four who always hunt with us. And Kira’s already chasing Sibe.”
Alpha’s expression darkened. “How will we hunt enough Kilak without you?”
Chris replied, calm and certain, “Our pack knows what to do. They’ll take care of the village.”
Alpha sighed, shaking his head. “Just when I was considering naming you lead Alpha, Chris.”
Chris froze, stunned. Then he bristled. “Luke’s the better alpha. Just because he’s blind doesn’t mean he can’t lead.”
Alpha raised a hand. “I know. I would have chosen him. But there’s something, something tied to his lack of sight, that’s kept me from doing so. I hope neither of you ever learns what it is.”
He looked at them with quiet sorrow. “I wish you both safety and strength, wherever you go. You’ll always be welcome here.”
And so, with few farewells and no ceremony, the Bowens left the village.
They wandered the world like handsome, single young men do. Thriving in wildernesses, blending into human cultures, learning, adapting, surviving. Africa, Asia, Europe, Australia, the Americas. They left their mark in every corner. Yet every so often, they returned. Not out of duty. Not out of need.
But because some places never stop feeling like home.
Chapter Text
On one of their rare returns, the Bowens found an intruder waiting.
Tahali, a witch of honeyed voice and venomous intent, stood before Alpha, her beauty twisted by madness. “I know the Umbra is here,” she purred. “This is the only place in this cursed land one could survive. Give me the imperfect one.”
“There is no imperfect one here,” Alpha replied, calm but firm. Behind him, the village bristled, alphas poised to strike.
“Give me the imperfect one,” she repeated, tracing a finger up the towering black werewolf’s arm, “or I’ll use your tendons in my spells.”
The brothers, fresh from travel and unaware of the full threat, instinctively joined the alphas at their leader’s side. Alpha stiffened at the sight of them, just slightly, but Tahali caught it. Her gaze followed his, landing on the newcomers.
She smiled.
Slipping past Alpha, she approached the Bowens with predatory grace. “Welcome. Now… which one of you is the imperfect one?”
Chris frowned, confused. Luke stood firm, unreadable. Tahali circled them like a vulture, searching for weakness.
Alpha stepped between them. “No Umbra is born imperfect. Flaws come from life, not birth. These two are my strongest alphas. Power like theirs doesn’t come from prophecy, it comes from survival. We are not like your kind, clinging to myths.”
Tahali’s eyes narrowed. Her hand flicked.
Chris saw it first, caught her wrist before the red spell could ignite. Luke moved with him, fluid and fierce. The spell dissolved into a glowing orb that shot toward Luke’s eyes.
His bright green gaze lit up red. He blinked, startled, but didn’t falter.
“It’s you!” Tahali shrieked. “You and your beautiful eyes! I must have them!”
She lunged. Chris shouted, “Down!” Luke obeyed, narrowly dodging her claws.
Together, they slammed into her, pinning her with brute force. She writhed, chanting, “An Umbra with imperfection! Pperfect for destruction!”
Alpha stepped forward. His claws came down. Tahali vanished. He turned to Luke, voice steady. “Towards me.” Luke’s unseeing green eyes shifted in his direction. The red glow faded. Alpha exhaled.
“What happened?” Luke asked softly. “Why did she want to hurt us? She was Umbra… like us.”
Alpha’s heart ached. “Because she was evil. Lustful. Those like her destroy everything for desire. The innocent suffer. The wicked thrive. You may not see with your eyes, but there is power in them. Power that darkness will always try to claim.”
Something shifted in Luke’s demeanor, subtle but unmistakable. The brothers remained in the village through the waning warmth, helping prepare for winter. One day, they and their four closest hunters traveled far to gather berries. For hours, they laughed, raced, and filled their baskets with ease.
Then Luke stood. They had all been leaping through the brush, but something in his stillness silenced them. The blind alpha tilted his head, ears twitching, nostrils flaring.
“The village is in trouble,” he said suddenly. “Come on!”
He sprinted off, supernatural speed tearing through the forest. The others followed without question, though none understood why. A mile from the village, they found him crouched beside fallen packmates. Unconscious, bleeding, their wounds deeper than any Kilak had ever delivered.
“We need to get them to safety,” Luke said, already calculating. “The forested valley sixty miles west should be secure.”
“What about the village?” Kira asked, voice tight with panic.
Luke’s ears swiveled toward home. “Too few of us to fight. I don’t hear the pack anymore, they’ve likely fled. We get these to safety, then search for the rest. Go. I’ll scout ahead.”
They obeyed, lifting the wounded and racing toward the valley. On a high rise, they paused to look back. Smoke curled into the sky. Their homes burned. Figures chased fleeing wolves into the woods. Shock held them still.
Luke rejoined them, more injured wolves slung over his shoulders. “These were all I found nearby.” Silence fell. “Only Umbra could be so evil as to kill their own,” Luke said at last.
“They weren’t Umbra,” Chris replied softly. “They were human.”
Luke shook his head. “No. They reek of demons and witches. I killed some. I heard their chants. Their laughter. It’s still echoing.”
The others heard nothing. Even when close, there had been no spells, no madness.
“They’re human,” Chris insisted. “We saw them. Their weapons. Their strange ways.”
“How could so many humans survive out here without us noticing?” Luke countered.
They escaped into the wilderness, returning for days to search for survivors. Once the remaining pack was secured, the brothers prepared to leave.
But the question of who had destroyed their home festered. The disagreement grew sharp, then bitter, until Chris could no longer bear it. Luke listened quietly as his other half packed to leave. Just before Chris turned to go, Luke pulled him into a tight embrace. They nuzzled gently, memorizing each other’s shape. “We’ve always seen different things,” Luke whispered. “Yours of warmth and sight. Mine of cold and sound. This time, we couldn’t combine our views. Maybe time will show us what happened. But no matter what, you are my brother. I will always love you. If you need me, I’ll be there.”
Chris turned and ran into the forest. Luke listened until the footsteps faded, then turned away.
On a rise, Chris paused and looked back. His brother was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t Luke’s fault he couldn’t see what had happened. Maybe, Chris thought, he was lucky that way. He ran before the thought could change his mind.
Chapter Text
A horde of demons and witches gathered beneath the forest canopy, the silhouette of a castle looming beyond the treetops like a forgotten crown. Luke crept closer, silent as snowfall. Centuries had passed since his village burned. He had become a hunter. Not of prey, but of Umbra. He worked in disguise among humans who would gladly see him dead, all to root out the corrupted Umbra that threatened them all. The evil that now possessed his kind was staggering. Once, Umbra had lived in uneasy peace with humans. Now, they rarely survived past their early centuries before cults and dark rites consumed them. This was Luke’s calling: to hunt, to kill, to make evil suffer. To protect the innocent. To keep his brother safe.
He crouched, muscles taut. These beings were like the Kilak. Only spells and power replaced antlers and hooves. Then, in a swirl of smoke, another Umbra appeared. His cape lashed the air like a whip. Crimson eyes surveyed the gathering with regal disdain. “Leave,” the blond commanded. “I want none of your evil in my territory.”
Luke held his breath. Was this one worth sparing?
A high-ranking demon stepped forward, bowing low. “Count Dracula. We are honored by your omnipotent presence. We trespass only because this is the last place of elite power untouched by human hunters.”
Dracula’s frown deepened. “But not untouched by me. You are murderers. You feast on your own kind. You’ve driven the once-numberless werewolves into rarity over a rumor of imperfection. I want none of your corruption here. I do not wish to kill my own kind, but I will not let you stay.”
“We can’t do that…” the demon began.
“You can,” Dracula said. “Now.”
The demon growled. “I hope you won’t cause trouble.”
“Only the trouble you’ve earned,” the Count replied.
The Umbra closed in. Dracula summoned a spell, disintegrating those he touched. He fought with elegance and fury, but there were too many. Even royalty has limits. The highest demon seized him, forcing his head back. “You could have stayed away. But we need something from a vampire. You’ll do.”
Luke had heard enough. He exploded from the shadows, claws and teeth flashing. Umbra scattered in terror. The vampire stared, stunned, as the silver tore through his captors. “Move!” Luke barked.
Despite their differences, magic and muscle, undead and living, they fought as one. When the last intruders fled, Dracula turned to the wolf, eyes wide. Luke smirked, then vanished into the undergrowth. Dracula closed his eyes, using echolocation to follow the hunt. Hours later, he returned to his cold, silent castle. He wandered its halls, thinking of the reckless werewolf who had risked everything for him. Of the legends. Of the prophecy that had poisoned the world.
He could not know that this encounter would prepare him for what was to come.
Centuries later, a woman named Sha Rijan would arrive in England. An Umbra hunter who sought to save the Shadows of the light. She would take in the Count. With her jianzhi, she would find the silver furred werewolf. Together, they would hunt the corrupted.
But even the strongest hunters must learn: the hunter can always become the hunted.
It had seemed like a simple Umbra, barely worth the effort. So insignificant that Count Dracula’s insistence on joining Rijan and Tauryu had felt almost laughable. Now, bound in enchanted ropes, they regretted not bringing Luke. The witches weren’t particularly strong. But the werewolf among them made up for it.
“The woman is human,” the coven leader said, circling. “Which of these Umbra is he?”
The traitorous wolf glared at Vlad and Tauryu. “Neither. The imperfect one is a silver werewolf. He’s run with these two lately, but he’s not here. Give him time. Bowen always protects his pack.”
“Luke is not imperfect,” Vlad said, twisting against the coarse rope.
“What makes you say that?” the Were snapped.
“He may be infuriating,” Vlad admitted, “but he’s a skilled hunter. He’s outlived most Umbra I’ve known. Nothing slows him. Not even the weaknesses that should kill him. He’s sharp, relentless, and loyal. The only flaw I can name is that he enjoys teasing me. And I don’t offer praise lightly. One who is imperfect cannot be so... perfect.”
The wolf scoffed. “He’s fooled you like he’s fooled the world for a millennium. You’ve blinded yourself to his flaw, just like Alpha did. You let the being Umbra have hunted since our creation live beside you.”
Vlad’s voice dropped, cold and furious. “Even if he were imperfect, I would still let him live free.”
The Were turned and walked away.
“Imperfect one?” Rijan echoed, confused. “What is that?”
Tauryu nodded solemnly. “I’ve heard the legend. The imperfect one was born flawed by the creator’s fear, by the species’ standard. But the flaw is power. They say he can restore health to the sick, life to the dead, a soul to the heartless. The weakness of a perfect being made imperfect.”
“That sounds like the Holy Grail of Umbra,” Rijan breathed.
“Everyone knows the myth,” Vlad said. “But most ignore it. Some search for him, like these witches. They never find him. He’s a phantom among shadows. Long ago, rumors claimed he was a werewolf. Hidden villages were burned. Weres slaughtered. That’s why Luke lives alone among humans. It’s survival.”
Rijan studied Vlad. “You don’t like the stories, do you?”
Vlad’s crimson eyes drifted away, weary. “I used to.”
The werewolf strode back into view, eyes gleaming. “Silence. The farmer is coming.”
The coven, murmuring moments before, fell instantly quiet. They braced for the silver wolf’s arrival. Vlad scanned the room, praying Luke’s hearing was sharp enough. “Luke! It’s a trap! Be careful! It’s a...”
The corrupt Were was on him in an instant. A furred hand clamped over the vampire’s mouth and nose, smothering the warning. Vlad thrashed, trying to scream, but the wolf’s strength was overwhelming. The Umbra leaned close, growling into his ear. “Settle down, bloodsucker. If Luke escapes, I’ll make your death slow.” Vlad didn’t stop struggling. If Luke got away, their captors would be the ones bleeding.
Two witches silenced Rijan and Toryu, hands pressed over mouths. Vlad closed his eyes, reaching out with echolocation. He found Bowen stalking rooftops nearby, approaching fast. His head tilted, sensing movement. Rijan thrashed weakly. At first, Vlad thought she was resisting. Then he realized she was suffocating. The witch’s hand blocked not just sound, but breath. Vlad fought harder. As much as he wanted Luke to stay away, Rijan wouldn’t survive without him.
Luke dropped to the street outside, approaching slowly. Just beyond the door, he paused. Rijan was going limp. Vlad cursed silently, willing his friend to move.
Then a blur. Before the witch could react, she was halfway across the room, Luke’s claws at her throat. Rijan gasped, air flooding back into her lungs. The silver wolf lunged for the rest of the coven, tearing through them with feral precision.
The rogue Were released Vlad and charged. Luke turned just in time, catching the attacker and slamming him into the ground. The two wolves snarled, circling as witches scrambled around them. Luke smiled, a terrible, gleeful smile. “So, you survived, little alpha. I thought you were the first to die when the village fell.”
The former second-in-command of the once pack snarled. “If those idiot Umbra had done their job, I wouldn’t have to deal with you again.”
“You betrayed the village because we were better than you?” Luke spat. “No wonder Alpha wanted Chris to lead. He should’ve let my brother finish you the first time.”
They clashed, claws, teeth, fury. The corrupt wolf roared, slashing faster, but Luke grinned through it, gaining ground. Then a rope dropped around his neck, yanked tight. The rogue alpha pinned him down as witches rushed in to bind him. “I’m Alpha of my own pack now, farmer,” the wolf sneered.
Luke coughed, eyes blazing. “Really? How many good Alphas did you have to kill to get your own?”
The older werewolf raised his clawed hand to strike the younger. A witch stepped forward, voice sharp. “Enough. You can finish your quarrel after we have his imperfection.”
The corrupt alpha growled but retreated, his fury simmering. The coven began preparing their spell as Luke sat up slowly, breath ragged. “You guys alright?” he whispered.
“We’re fine. Glad you showed up when you did,” Rijan replied.
“Great. Let’s get out of here,” Bowen said, twisting his claws to cut the ropes.
For several tense minutes, they worked in silence. One of the Umbra cackled, “With the imperfect one in our hands, we’ll have eternal youth.”
Vlad exhaled, his anger tempered by weariness. “Stop chasing shadows. There is no imperfect Umbra.”
The lead witch paused, eyeing the Twilight team. “You sound certain. Got proof beyond your personal disappointment?”
“I searched. I was born at the dawn of human conscience, cursed by this myth. My prophecy says I can feed on any human—but I’ll suffer their death. Only the imperfect one could end that pain. Their blood would unlock my full power. I hunted for centuries. But I’ve learned the truth: they don’t exist.”
Luke was quiet, then smiled gently. “Just because I’m perfect doesn’t mean you can’t feed off me. I’m hard to kill. You might be surprised.”
The witch rolled her eyes. She’d heard enough vampire lore to know Vlad wasn’t telling the whole story. “Don’t worry, Count. We’ll take his weakness; you can have the rest. His friend said the imperfection’s in the eyes. Who’d guess this handsome Umbra was blind?”
“I manage just fine,” Luke muttered.
The witch approached with a knife. Silver gasped as she removed both eyes, one after the other.
The traitorous werewolf sneered. “Anything changed, farmer?”
Luke’s blind gaze was chilling. “Unfortunately, no. Your voice still needs to be ripped out.”
The coven cheered as the green eyes were placed in the spell circle.
Bowen spoke calmly. “Don’t use my eyes. It won’t work. I may not see shapes or color, but that doesn’t make me imperfect.”
Vlad turned to him, confused. “You’re blind?”
“Yes. You can call me imperfect if you want,” Bowen said.
The witches completed the spell, adding the stolen parts. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the cauldron’s contents shrank inward. It exploded. Shrapnel flew. Witches were thrown across the chamber, dissolving into black fog. The lesser alpha gasped, struggling to heal.
Tauryu broke free and began untying the others. “What just happened?” Rijan asked.
Luke stood and approached the corrupt wolf. “Imperfection only exists if you believe in it,” he said, then slashed his claws across the traitor’s throat.
He turned to his team. “I may not see like other Umbra, but I’m fine with that. That’s what makes my disability a strength.”
Vlad stepped closer, studying Luke’s regrown eyes. “You’re perfect. I’m glad. But I won’t lie; I’m disappointed.”
Luke chuckled. “I’m not. But you’re welcome to try my blood. Worst case, it’s ordinary. Best case, you grow ears and a tail.”
Vlad scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Becoming a wolf would be the worst outcome.”
Luke offered his arm. “I disagree. Want a taste?”
Vlad hesitated. “Now? We could wait.”
“It’ll take seconds. I heal fast. Just bite.”
With a sigh, Vlad sank his fangs into Luke’s arm. The blood was potent, rich, soothing, addictive.
Luke’s hand tangled in Vlad’s hair, pulling him back. “That’s enough. If you want more, ask at the café.”
Vlad licked his lips, dazed. “Your blood is… incredible.”
Luke grinned, following Rijan and Tauryu toward the exit. “You can have more. Just do one thing for me.”
“What’s the price?” Vlad asked, wary.
Luke’s sightless green eyes gleamed with mischief. “Do my bookwork. It takes forever to read without eyes.”