Chapter 2 An animal.

Everyone else had quickly left the drawing room, a mass exodus of hushed footsteps and fleeting shadows. Even Damien's father, a man who usually lingered, a silent, 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 last-minute work-related meeting, a final obligation before the grand birthday party that night. The thought barely registered beyond a dull throb of resentment.

Damien couldn't stomach staying in the drawing room any longer. The air still felt thick with his parents' pronouncement, heavy and suffocating. He'd barely escaped the tense family meeting before the anger had started to simmer, an internal tremor he couldn't quite contain. He walked, almost stumbled, out of the opulent room and found himself, not in his own bedroom where he might have found some fleeting peace, but wandering into the living room.

He'd hoped for a quiet space, a temporary sanctuary from the turmoil raging inside him. But minutes hadn't passed before a new wave of discomfort washed over him, far more immediate and physical 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. The air in the living room, usually grand and spacious, had suddenly become stifling. It was no longer quiet. The sounds, once distant, now seemed to press in on him from every direction.

The clatter and clang of food being prepared in the kitchen, a symphony of frantic activity for the upcoming party, grew impossibly loud. The sound of water running, dishes being washed with vigorous scrubbing, drawers opening and closing with sharp snaps, and the ceaseless, high-pitched chatter of the maids, all blended into a cacophony that assaulted his heightened senses. Each noise grated on his nerves, a physical irritant.

To make matters worse, his two younger twin brothers, Alex and Lucas, had decided to set up their gaming sanctuary in one of their rooms just down the hall. The blare of electronic explosions and triumphant, tinny music now vibrated through the floor and walls. A fresh wave of resentment, sharp and bitter, twisted in Damien's gut. His brothers, blessed with an almost infuriating ability to adapt to any change, any situation, were completely unfazed by the news.

They were even super friendly to humans, easily blending in, and saw no problem with being forced to change schools. What mattered to them most, what truly consumed their attention, were the glowing screens of their video games, their virtual battles infinitely more important than the real-world upheaval. Their easy acceptance, their cheerful obliviousness, felt like a betrayal in itself.

It was all too much for him to bear. The noise, the stifling air, the casual disregard of his brothers-it coiled inside him, a tight, burning knot. He needed to get out, to escape this gilded cage. He dashed 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 mansion felt too close, too demanding. He needed to escape further, to find a place where he could finally reflect on the day's devastating events without the pressure of human presence or expectations.

The forest, a vast, untamed expanse stretching behind the mansion, seemed like the only perfect retreat. It called to him, a wild, green promise of freedom. With a speed akin to lightning, a burst of raw, controlled power, he scaled the towering perimeter wall that marked the boundary of the Hartman estate. His only focus was on getting away, on putting as much distance as possible between himself and the oppressive reality of his life. The wall was high, far too high for any normal human, but his desperate need 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 hold it any longer. The delicate balance he maintained was shattered. Anything in his path now would surely meet its demise. His eyes, usually a calm amber, turned bloody, blazing red, and his claws, razor-sharp extensions of his very bones, lengthened with a sickening snick as he fully succumbed to the consuming rage. He dropped silently to the forest floor and ran at his highest speed, a blur of motion, a primal engine driven by fury, until he was far from the house and deep, deep in the ancient, shadowy woods.

There, in the heart of the wild, untouched by human hands, he unleashed his fury on a nearby tree. It was a massive oak, old and strong, but nothing could withstand the force of his unbridled rage. He punched, kicked, and growled, each strike a guttural cry of pure, unfiltered anger. The tree shuddered violently under his assault, its thick trunk groaning, its branches quivering as leaves, hundreds of them, fell to the ground like 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, deeper and deeper into the wilderness. His senses were unnaturally heightened now, every scent, every sound amplified. The rich, earthy smell of damp soil and sharp pine filled his nostrils, a wild perfume that both grounded and fueled him. Every snap of a twig beneath his powerful paws, every rustle of unseen leaves, every distant hoot of an owl, only seemed to ignite his fury further, pushing him to greater, more destructive speeds.

He felt like a truly caged animal, trapped by expectations he abhorred, by responsibilities he couldn't escape, by a fate he refused to accept. Deeper into the woods he roamed, a whirlwind of destruction. His powerful footsteps left a visible trail of havoc 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 soil alike, a testament to his raw, untamed power. The primal urge to lash out, to assert his dominance over something, anything, consumed him entirely, blotting out everything but the need to destroy. He was a force of nature, a living embodiment of rage.

As the night wore on, a slow, creeping exhaustion began to set in, a deep weariness in his bones and muscles. His limbs grew heavy with fatigue, the adrenaline that had propelled him finally starting to fade, leaving him utterly drained. He stumbled, then found a secluded clearing, hidden by a canopy of ancient pines, and collapsed onto the cool, damp forest floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The echoes of his anger still lingered in the silent woods, a phantom vibration in the air, but now there was also a pervasive sense of emptiness, a hollow, aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. The rage had burned itself out, leaving only a vast, desolate void. In the distance, a faint rustling caught his attention, a nervous flutter of leaves.

His instincts, still sharp despite his exhaustion, pricked. He turned his head, his ears swiveling, to see a deer sprinting past him, a flash of brown and white in the moonlight. Its fear was palpable, a pungent scent carried on the wind even from afar, a desperate terror that vibrated in the air. Without thinking, 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 ferocity that was both disturbing and natural, his senses heightened further still. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, the warmth of the fresh kill seeped into his paws. It was then, while he was still consumed by the raw act of feeding, that he became aware of the unmistakable presence of two hunters nearby.

Their voices, rough and muffled, carried through the trees, puzzled and cautious. "What kind of animal do you think attacked it?" one asked the other, his tone a mix of disbelief and fear. "Funny how you're worried about a mere deer instead of fleeing," the second hunter replied, his voice tinged with a raw edge of terror. "Let's get out of here." As they fled, crashing 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 with a deeper sorrow, settled over him. With a heavy heart, the reality of his human obligations slowly seeped back into his awareness. He knew he couldn't stay here for long; his mother's birthday celebration, an inescapable duty, awaited his presence. He pushed himself to his feet, muscles aching but re-energized by the hunt, and began the long journey back home.

The path through the moonlit forest was intimately familiar, each twist and turn, every gnarled root and ancient tree, etched into his memory from countless midnight runs he'd made over the years. As he moved, his anger, though not entirely gone, began to calm down, dissipating slowly like mist in the morning 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 year, a truce he unwillingly honored. However, even with his respect for her, she couldn't possibly expect him to agree to attend a human school so easily, to simply accept this devastating decree. That, he knew with grim certainty, would be a separate battle, a much larger, more enduring war for another day.

Suddenly, Damien heard voices in the distance, carried on the cool night wind, drifting through the rustling leaves. His ears pricked up, swiveling, his senses honed. He followed the sound, a flicker of curiosity overriding his desire to simply get home. 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 a flood of memories-both good, of freedom and belonging, and bad, of the isolating weight of his own nature. He could see the empty grounds, the darkened windows reflecting the moonlight like vacant eyes, and a profound pang of longing twisted in his chest.

The imposing buildings of Moonridge stood tall and ancient, bathed in the soft, silver glow of the moon. It was a place designed specifically for those like him, a haven where they could learn, grow, and exist without the constant, gnawing 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 kind, where he didn't have to pretend, didn't have to hide who and what he truly was. Damien had no close friends at Moonridge; he wasn't the friendly type, that was just his nature, a solitary creature unlike his more outgoing brothers.

But despite his chosen isolation, being surrounded by others who understood his struggles, who shared his instincts and his secret, had made his isolation bearable, a comfortable solitude. Now, he was being ripped from that 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 weary trek back home. His mind was a whirlwind of churning emotions-anger, resentment, despair, but also a nascent spark of grim determination. He knew one thing for certain: he couldn't hide who he was forever. Not completely.

The walk back to his house felt shorter, almost too quick, his mind now sharply focused on the immediate task ahead. He had to be Damien Hartman, the eldest son, the dutiful child. He would find a way to make this work, to blend in, to survive in the human world without losing himself entirely, without letting them break his spirit. His mother's birthday celebration awaited, an obligation he could not shirk, and 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 screams that had just torn through the forest. He took a deep, steadying breath, steeling himself for what was to come, for the facade he would have to wear. He would face this challenge head-on, with the same fierce determination that had driven him through the forest, the same power that had toppled the ancient oak. Tonight, he would celebrate with his family, play his part. Tomorrow, he would face the unknown.