lent, comforting presence, trying to smooth over any family tension that didn't go their way, had disappeared. He must have accompanied their mother to some la

barely escaped the tense family meeting before the anger had started to simmer, an internal tremor he couldn't quite contain. He walked, almost stumbl

ysical than the emotional blow he'd just endured. He felt like something was slowly choking him, a phantom hand tightening around his throat, and all of a sudden, he struggled to breathe.

ound of water running, dishes being washed with vigorous scrubbing, drawers opening and closing with sharp snaps, and the ceaseless, high-pitch

. The blare of electronic explosions and triumphant, tinny music now vibrated through the floor and walls. A fresh wave of resentment, sharp and bitter, tw

d to them most, what truly consumed their attention, were the glowing screens of their video games, their virtual battles infinite

ashed out of the house, not caring where, simply needing to put distance between himself and everything within those walls. He found himself on the back lobby, a small, enclosed patio, but even here, the

to escape consumed him, lending him impossible strength. He moved with a grace that few could ever witness, his powerful muscles flexing as he found purchase on crumbling stone and clinging ivy. If he couldn't get away fast enough, if anything tried to hold him back, he knew with absolute certainty that he could easily push the entire wall down if he truly wanted to. His anger, so carefully managed and suppressed while his mother spoke, now roared to life, a wild, untamed beast clawing at his insides. He couldn't

startled birds. In a matter of seconds, the oak succumbed to his terrifying might. Roots, thick as human limbs, tore from the earth with a sound like ripping fabric, and the colossal tree toppled, uprooted and utterly defeated. The echoes of his furious roars reverberated through the dense forest, bouncing off ancient trunks, a primal cry of frustration and raw, unadulterated anger. He continued to run, blindly, desperately, deep

voc in their wake, flattened undergrowth and churned earth marking his desperate path. Every tree, every fallen log, every jutting rock, bore the brunt of his overwhelming fury. He tore through the thick underbrush, his extended claws rending bark and so

h fatigue, the adrenaline that had propelled him finally starting to fade, leaving him utterly drained. He stumbled, then found a secl

pervasive sense of emptiness, a hollow, aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. The rage had burned itself out, lea

g, driven by a primal instinct to hunt that bypassed his rational mind, he pursued it. The chase was short-lived, almost effortless. He swiftly caught up to the panicked animal, its terrified bleats silenced as he brought it down with ease. As Damien feasted on the deer's carcass, tearing at the flesh with a fero

ashing through the undergrowth in a clumsy panic, he watched them go, a powerful, chilling sense of dominance and lethal capability coursing through him. He had seen them, registered their fear, and if they had lingered even a moment longer, had posed even the slightest threat, they would have met the same swift, brutal fate as the deer. A cold satisfaction, mixed

ng sun. A weary acceptance settled in. Despite the raw fury that had consumed him, he had managed to control himself, to avoid any true exposure, but only because today was his mother's birthday. She possessed a strange, almost magical ability to tame the wildness within him on this one specific day of the

He crept closer, moving silently through the shadows, a master of stealth, and soon the source of the noise came into view. It was Moonridge Academy, its massive, familiar silhouette rising out of the trees. The sight of it, even from a distance, brought

wing fear of discovery. Seeing it now, from the outside, felt like a painful farewell, filling him with a deep, crushing sense of loss. He longed, with every fiber of his being, to be back within those protective walls, among his own k

world, his sanctuary, and brutally thrown into one where he would always have to be on guard, always suppressing, always fearing. He turned away from Moonridge, a profound emptiness settling in his chest, and began the wea

d he would be there, not just in body, but in spirit, a ghost moving among the living. He owed her that much, for all the complicated layers of their relationship. As he neared the house, the muffled sounds of the party finally reached his ears, growing clearer with every step. Laughter, the gentle rhythm of music, and the delicate clinking of glasses filled the crisp night air, a stark contrast to the primal s