Sparks of fiery orange magic spun into the cool night air, twisting and expanding until they formed a blazing, circular portal.
Through the shower of golden embers stepped Alexander and Hope, leaving the quiet grounds of Ilvermorny far behind.
As the portal snapped shut behind them, Hope immediately spotted the familiar, imposing figure waiting in the clearing.
"Dad!" she called out, breaking into a run and throwing her arms around Klaus's neck.
Klaus caught her effortlessly, a genuine, rare smile breaking through his usually guarded expression as he hugged his daughter tight. When he finally pulled back, his gaze shifted to Alexander. The Original hybrid gave a single, terse nod. After everything, Klaus had come to accept the Dark Fey as an equal and a partner for his daughter. But acceptance didn't mean he had to stop being annoyed that some boy was dating his little girl.
"Noble and Katana tracked the mutt to these woods," Klaus said, his tone shifting back to business as he gestured to the dense, foreboding tree line ahead of them. "But the cowardly beast has holed up behind a magical barrier. Furthermore, the moon is full tonight. Greyback and his entire pack will be fully turned and running wild."
Alexander stepped forward, his eyes scanning the edge of the forest. He could feel the hum of the magical ward—a primitive, brute-force piece of wizarding magic designed to keep intruders out.
Without a word, Alexander raised his hand and pressed his palm flat against the invisible wall. The barrier instantly rippled, glowing a sickly purple for a fraction of a second before the sheer, overwhelming weight of Alexander's ancient magic forced it to yield. With a sound like tearing canvas, a massive hole melted into the ward, leaving the path wide open.
Klaus smirked approvingly. As they stepped through the breach, the atmosphere immediately shifted. The air was thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and wet fur.
Klaus paused, his head tilting slightly as his hybrid hearing picked up the heavy thud of paws and the low, guttural snarls echoing through the timber. "They know we're here," Klaus warned, his own eyes flashing a vibrant, predatory gold. "Be ready, little wolf."
Hope didn't need to be told twice. She dropped to her hands and knees, and in a fluid, sickeningly fast symphony of snapping bones and shifting muscle, she transformed. Because of Alexander's awakening ritual, she didn't just turn into a standard werewolf.
She exploded into a monstrous, breathtaking beast. Standing as tall as a warhorse, her coat was a blinding, pristine white that seemed to gather the moonlight. She let out a terrifying, bone-rattling growl, bearing incisors that were as long and sharp as hunting daggers.
Alexander looked at the magnificent white wolf and smiled. Deciding to embrace the theme of the evening rather than relying on his Dark Fey wings, he raised his hands. A swirling vortex of luminous golden dust erupted from his palms, rapidly enveloping his entire body in a blinding cocoon of magic.
When the golden dust scattered to the wind, the figure left standing there was straight out of a nightmare.
Alexander had taken on a bipedal, monstrous wolf-like form that towered over Klaus at a massive eight feet tall. His body was hyper-muscular, blending humanoid anatomy with savage, lupine traits. His head featured an elongated, snarling snout that was permanently pulled back to reveal an oversized, gaping maw. Rows of razor-sharp, prominent canine fangs dripped with thick saliva.
Piercing, predatory yellow-gold eyes locked onto the dark forest, while pointed, canine-like ears sat high on his skull, swept backward in aggression. Thick, coarse, dark-grey-to-black fur draped heavily over his neck and shoulders like a savage mane, while the fur on his chest and abdomen was much shorter, putting his heavily defined, powerful musculature on full display.
Klaus looked between his horse-sized, pure-white daughter and the towering, eight-foot werewolf monstrosity beside her. He let out a dark, booming laugh, his vampire fangs descending as the veins under his eyes pulsed black.
"Well then," Klaus whispered, his voice dripping with bloodlust. "Let the hunt begin."
The tree line rustled violently before the first of Greyback's pack burst into the clearing.
They were a far cry from the majestic predators of the Mikaelson bloodline.
These werewolves were things of nightmares, twisted heavily toward the human side of the curse. Their skin was pale, grayish, and almost translucent, stretched painfully tight over emaciated frames that put every protruding rib and spinal column on display. They moved with a frantic, twitchy energy, lacking any of the graceful agility of a natural wolf. Their limbs were unnaturally long and gangly, ending in elongated, human-like fingers tipped with filthy claws. As they charged, they scampered on digitigrade legs, frequently rearing up on their hind quarters to snap their elongated, nearly bald snouts. Their sunken, irrational eyes and bat-like ears gave them a deeply unsettling, sickly appearance.
Klaus sneered at the pathetic, wretched creatures. His own face shifted, his irises blazing a brilliant, golden-yellow accompanied by the thick, dark veins pumping aggressively beneath his eyes. He cast a sidelong glance at Alexander's towering, muscular form and let out an impressed hum.
"Not bad, bird-boy," Klaus purred, his fangs fully extended. "Let's see if you know how to use it."
With a deafening roar, the three of them sped forward, moving as a blur of lethal force.
Klaus struck first. He didn't bother with claws or shifting his form; he was an Original Hybrid, and his bare hands were weapons of mass destruction. He blurred into the center of the pack, his movements a symphony of casual, brutal violence. A spindly werewolf lunged at him, but Klaus simply sidestepped, bringing his hand down in a single, devastating chop that cleanly decapitated the beast. Without breaking stride, he plunged his hand straight through the ribcage of another charging werewolf, effortlessly tearing its heart out and tossing it aside into the brush.
Beside him, Alexander moved with a terrifying speed that defied his massive eight-foot frame. He was a blur. When two of the frantic beasts leaped at him, Alexander didn't flinch. He showcased his superhuman durability, letting their claws rake across his thick hide without registering a hint of pain.
With a savage growl, Alexander swung his massive, claw-tipped forepaws. His razor-sharp claws ripped cleanly through the emaciated werewolves, tearing flesh and bone with horrifying ease. Utilizing his incredible litheness, Alexander leaped several meters straight into the air, crashing down upon a cluster of wolves with earth-shattering strength, crushing them beneath his weight before tearing into them with unbridled ferocity.
Hope was a localized natural disaster. As a horse-sized white wolf, she dwarfed the sickly creatures of Greyback's pack. She crashed through their ranks like a battering ram. Her powerful jaws snapped shut, her dagger-like incisors biting and ripping through the spindly werewolves with ease.
She grabbed one by the neck, shaking her massive head violently until the sickening crack of its spine echoed through the clearing, then tossed the limp body into a tree trunk, shattering the wood on impact.
The clearing quickly turned into a slaughterhouse. Greyback's pack, entirely feral and devoid of rationality, had no idea that they had just ambushed the absolute apex predators of two different universes.