It came faster than any punch.
Ren moved on instinct, twisting her body just in time. The strike missed her by a breath.
She didn't stop in time.
Her back slammed into the wall behind her. She hadn't even noticed it was there. The speed she moved at left no room for caution.
The fist made of hair tore through empty air and recoiled, slithering back toward Alaric. In seconds, it settled again, his hair falling naturally over his shoulders as if nothing strange had happened at all.
Ren straightened, eyes narrowing.
"What kind of bizarre power is that?" she asked.
Alaric smiled, amused. "Just like I said. I control my hair however I want. Any direction. Any length." He lifted a hand slightly. "It's strong enough that I can fight with it. Sometimes I don't even need my fists."
Ren exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
"I didn't expect that," she admitted.
Then her expression hardened.
"But now it's my turn."
A sharp metallic sound echoed through the alley.
From her forearm, a blade began to emerge. Long. Narrow. Jagged along the edges. It slid out as if it had always been part of her body, glinting faintly in the dim light.
Ren raised her arm, the blade fully formed.
"Let me show you my power."
Ren lunged.
The blade carved through the air and struck true. Alaric staggered half a step as steel kissed flesh, leaving a shallow cut just below his collarbone. Blood welled slowly, dark against pale skin.
He looked down at the wound, then back at her. His expression twisted, irritation seeping through his calm.
"You might be the most annoying brat I've ever met," Alaric said flatly.
Ren smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."
The air above her shifted.
She sensed it a heartbeat too late.
Black strands dropped like falling threads, whipping downward with unnatural speed. Ren barely had time to look up before they wrapped around her arms, her waist, her legs.
Hair.
No—bindings.
She struggled, muscles tightening as she tried to tear free. The more she fought, the more the strands hardened, pulling tighter, digging in like living restraints.
"Tch—" She gritted her teeth.
The hair responded, coiling further, reinforcing itself as if feeding on her resistance.
Alaric stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the alley.
"Struggle all you want," he said calmly. "It only makes things worse."
Ren glared at him, breath heavy, blade trembling in her restrained arm.
But she didn't look afraid.
She looked angry.
Her fingers twitched.
In an instant, her nails elongated, reshaping into thin, razor-sharp blades. Metal gleamed where keratin should have been.
She moved carefully at first, slicing into the strands binding her wrists. The hair resisted, tightening in response, but the blades cut through, strand by strand.
Alaric's eyes narrowed.
"So you can still move."
More hair surged forward, lashing toward her like black whips, aiming to trap her again.
Too late.
Ren swung her arm in a wide arc.
The blades flashed.
Every strand binding her was severed at once. The hair fell limp to the ground, collapsing like discarded threads.
Ren landed hard but didn't pause for even a heartbeat. The moment her boots touched the ground, she moved again, blades still formed along her forearms, her gaze locked onto Alaric as if breaking eye contact would mean death.
Alaric clicked his tongue, jaw tightening. His smile was gone now.
"You're really starting to get on my nerves," he muttered, teeth grinding together. "Annoying little brat."
His hair stirred.
No. It rose.
Four thick strands peeled away from the rest, stretching unnaturally as they lifted into the air. They twisted, sharpening at the ends, moving with a will of their own before lunging toward her all at once.
Ren reacted instantly.
She sprinted forward, then veered sharply and leapt, planting a foot against the brick wall of the alley. She ran upward, fingers scraping against stone as she climbed. One of the strands slammed into the wall just below her, the impact cracking the surface. Another narrowly missed her head as she twisted mid-motion.
She swung her arm, the blade flashing as she cut through one of them.
It fell.
Then it moved again.
The severed strand stiffened, thickened, and reconnected, slithering back into the mass like nothing had happened.
"There's no escape," Alaric said calmly from below. "The more you fight it, the more it responds."
Ren pushed herself higher, breath sharp but controlled. Another strand surged toward her from the side.
She cut again.
And again.
They kept coming.
Then she felt it.
A sudden pull.
Her wrists snapped inward as two strands wrapped around them from behind, yanking her arms apart and pinning her in place. Before she could react, another coiled around her waist, crushing the air from her lungs.
Her eyes widened.
The fourth strand drew back.
Then struck.
The force drove her forward into the wall, once, then again, rattling her vision. She clenched her teeth, refusing to scream, forcing herself to stay conscious.
I need to get out. Now.
Her fingers shifted, nails lengthening into thin, razor-edged blades. Slowly, carefully, she began sawing at the bindings around her wrists, each movement deliberate despite the strain running through her arms.
Alaric noticed.
His expression darkened.
More strands surged forward, tightening their grip, reacting to her resistance. One lashed toward her forearm just as she tried to form another blade.
It caught it mid-formation.
With a sharp crack, the weapon shattered, the force rebounding into her arm. The sudden shock sent a wave of weakness through her body, her grip faltering.
Her strength gave way.
The strands released her all at once.
Ren dropped.
She hit the ground hard, the world tilting violently as she rolled onto her side. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, vision blurred, limbs refusing to respond the way they should.
Above her, Alaric's hair withdrew, settling back into place as he stepped forward, looking down at her like the fight had already ended.
***
Ophelia broke into a run.
The moment she felt it, she knew. That heavy, suffocating pressure in the air. Vampiric energy. Strong. Twisted.
She sprinted toward it without hesitation.
Alistair and Rowan followed close behind, their footsteps echoing sharply against the pavement.
Rowan glanced sideways at Ophelia as they ran.
'And somehow, you're the only thing that feels real.'
The words slipped into his mind uninvited, lingering just long enough to throw his focus off.
He shook his head, annoyed at himself.
Now wasn't the time.
He looked at Alistair instead. "Hey… what kind of girls do you like?"
Alistair shot him a look like he'd lost his mind. "Bro, are you serious right now? We're literally running toward something dangerous."
"Yeah. Sorry," Rowan muttered. "Bad timing."
Ophelia suddenly stopped.
Both of them nearly crashed into her.
"Wait," she said, eyes wide. Her voice dropped. "One of the energies… it's fading."
Rowan's stomach tightened.
"Fading?" Alistair echoed.
"We're close," Ophelia said. "Too close. Let's move."
They turned into the alley.
The first thing they saw was blood.
Ren lay sprawled on the ground, barely conscious, her body battered and still.
A few steps away stood a man.
Tall. Calm. Unmoving.
Alaric.
Alistair pointed immediately. "Hey, Rowan. You asked my type earlier?" He nodded toward Ren. "That's my type."
Rowan didn't even look at him. "This is not the time."
Alaric's gaze shifted to them, slow and measured, like a predator assessing new arrivals.
"And why," he asked calmly, "are you here?"
His eyes slid to Ophelia.
"And why is a vampire walking alongside humans?"
"They're my friends," Ophelia said firmly, stepping forward. "And yes, a vampire can be friends with humans."
Alaric let out a soft chuckle.
"I've heard those same words before." His eyes flicked briefly to Ren on the ground. "From her."
Rowan exhaled through his nose, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"So that clears it," he said. "You're the bad one here."
He took a step forward.
"And that means we're gonna have to stop you."
The air felt heavier.
The fair kept laughing somewhere behind them.
And the night held its breath.