[Creak]
"Jacob! What is that?" an old woman gasped, awe and fear strangling her voice.
Jacob turned his head to the side, eyes narrowing on the creature in the corner. "Not the faintest idea," he muttered, voice level, "but I know one thing—it's not human. Even if it tries to wear the shape of one."
He stepped toward the small basement door, his posture unreadable, calculating. Before opening it, he glanced at his wife.
"If there's any leftover fillet, plate it with a bowl of water. I'll handle the rest."
With that, he disappeared into the stairwell, closing the door behind him with a firm click. His wife nodded and moved to check for leftovers.
…
"Argh… damn, my head…"
Sirus eyelids flickered open. Darkness, thick and still. He could see, somehow—but he could tell it was dark.
"Where… am I? Great. Tied up. Of course I got captured."
Sirus tried to stand but felt the tug of restraints biting at his wrists. Squinting through the gloom, he pressed his back against the wall, then tapped his head against it. Cold. Rough. Brick, maybe. He flexed his fingers, letting clawed thumbs trace the ropes.
"Thick rope. Standard. I can cut through this easily... assuming I'm not locked behind a steel gate or something."
With a measured breath, he relaxed his arms and began working at the bonds with his claws. It took less than three minutes.
Footsteps echoed from above.
"A basement, then. And what the hell is that stench?"
He held his nose with one hand, muttering under his breath. "I'm starving... How long has it been since I left the village? Mom… Dad… you better be okay."
He rubbed his arm for warmth, the silence amplifying the ache of hunger and unease.
"No weapons. Just me and my claws. I'll manage."
Crouching, he felt around the wooden floor, fingertips brushing over tufts of sprouting grass.
"I'm not digging out like a damn rabbit…"
His nose twitched. Meat. Water. They'd left something. He crept forward, hand gliding across the floor until it tapped a wooden bowl, then another. One cool with water. The other… raw meat. Fish, he guessed.
"Well, guess I'll eat the meat first, drink after. Don't want the taste to linger."
He carved the fillet with his claws, chewing quickly. Bland. Raw. But not disgusting.
"Huh. Could of swore it's raw… but tastes like unseasoned cooked fish? Demon perks, maybe?"
He drained the water. Warmth bloomed at the back of his head and in his bruised heel, but he ignored it. His night vision sharpened.
"Moonlight…" he looked up, spotting a small sunroof. "Too narrow to escape through"
The room came into view. Barrels. A staircase. He reached up and peeled the bandage from his head.
"They even wrapped my wound. Kind... but that doesn't make them saints."
With a glare, he shredded the bandage and rose, padding silently toward the stairs. Light bled through the cracks of the wooden door above. He grinned, predatory and cold.
Upstairs
"Jacob, what are you going to do? We can't just keep a monster in our basement! What if it escapes?" The woman's voice trembled as she clutched her daughter, Bella.
"We've no knights. No adventurers out here." Jacob's voice was firm. "I'll handle it. But don't open that door. No matter what." He locked eyes with Bella, ensuring she understood. She nodded, frightened but obedient.
"Please… just kill it before it kills us," his wife whispered.
[Creeeeak]
The door opened slowly. A figure emerged—ducking beneath the frame, then rising to full height. Humanoid in shape, but unmistakably wrong.
Glowing red eyes pierced the room. A wide, unsettling grin split its pale face, revealing jagged fangs. White hair flowed around it, like smoke in moonlight.
Razor claws. Feet like blades.
The room grew colder.
Jacob instinctively stepped in front of his family, arms spread protectively. The creature didn't move. Its aura spilled out—anger, power, death.
Then… its grin faded. A tired frown settled in.
Confused, Jacob held his ground.
The creature stepped forward—not to attack. One clawed hand rested on the table as it circled around, eyes never leaving the family. It stopped before the fruit bowl, glanced at the offerings, then picked up an apple and bit into it.
Then—stranger still—it sat. Calmly. Quietly. As though it belonged.
Bella whispered, "Papa… what's it doing?"
Jacob didn't respond. He didn't know.
The creature spoke—fast, sharp, guttural. Not a single word made sense.
"What's it saying?" his wife asked, clinging to Jacob's sleeve.
"If you don't understand it," he muttered, "how am I supposed to?"
---
"They can't understand me. Typical." He sighed through the juicy crunch of the apple. "If this were a prison, I'd have ripped them apart already. But these… are just common folk. Harmless."
He glanced between them. An old man, a frightened woman, and a child hiding behind them.
"Farmers, maybe? These apples are fresh. Doubt you'd find this quality at a market unless they were rich—and this house sure ain't."
He studied them. The woman—grey-streaked black hair, modest clothes. The man—tall. 180cm tall. Probably strong. The kid—he couldn't see her well. No threat.
A deep snarl rumbled from his chest, half yawn, half instinct. The humans tensed.
"Great. Empty bowl already?" He tapped it, disappointed. "Now what?"
Stretching his arms to the ceiling, he turned and spotted the stairs leading up. He pointed at them, commanding silently.
To his surprise, they understood. They moved—slowly, cautiously—up the stairs. Sirus followed, keeping a two-metre distance.
He herded them into a bedroom and blocked the door with a bookshelf, dragging it over with minimal effort. Then he slumped against it, slid to the floor, and shut his eyes.
"…I'll deal with them in the morning."