Young Writers Society

As soon as we neared the cave, I issued the distinct howl—a signal of distress that my pack would recognize immediately. Moments later, I followed it with the counter-sign, letting them know to stand down but prepare. The forest quieted for a moment as the echoes of my call died away. Then, I heard the familiar rustle of movement as three of my pack members rushed out to meet us.

Their faces were grim when they saw Connor. One of them, Ethan, immediately knelt beside him. "Fang, what the hell happened?" he asked, his voice low but filled with concern. His eyes quickly darted over to me, sensing the tension in my frame.

"Not now," I growled, already irritated beyond measure. "Take him inside, let the others know something’s coming. Do not... and I repeat do not try to fight them."

Ethan hesitated, confusion flickering in his eyes. He glanced back at Connor, unconscious and barely clinging to life. But he didn’t argue. He and the others lifted Connor and began to drag him into the cave. Before they could disappear fully, I added, "You’ll understand when they arrive. Tell the others to stand down. No one is to challenge this one."

Ethan paused, glancing at me with suspicion, his instincts telling him something was wrong. His jaw clenched, but he nodded. "Understood, Alpha," he said before turning and carrying Connor deeper into the cave.

I watched them disappear into the shadows of the cave, their retreating figures swallowed by the darkness. I followed behind slowly, feeling the weight of impending doom in the air. As I entered the cavern, the atmosphere shifted like a palpable force. The rest of the pack was tense, their instincts already flaring up. I could smell their fear, their unease. Silas had that effect on everything that lived, whether they were aware of her or not. Their bodies just knew.

Some of the younger wolves shot me sideways glances, probably wondering what had happened to Connor. They must’ve sensed that I was unsettled in a way they’d never seen before. Two of the pups—newer members of the pack—stood too close, curiosity overtaking caution.

"Back away," I warned, my voice sharp. "You don't want to be near her when she comes."

The pups flinched at the steel in my tone, their eyes wide with confusion and fear. They were still green, too new to understand the kind of danger that was descending upon us. One of them, a young wolf named Jared, opened his mouth to ask something, but I cut him off with a glare that silenced any thoughts of questioning me.

I motioned to Ethan. "Take a detachment before she arrives. Take the medicine woman and get out. Go to the old quarry. The medicine woman will know where it is."

Ethan’s face tightened, but he nodded. He understood the gravity of what I wasn’t saying. The others around him, the more seasoned wolves, exchanged uneasy looks but followed his lead without protest.

As they moved to gather what they needed, I turned back toward the entrance of the cave, feeling the growing cold. The wind outside had shifted. Silas was close, and with her, that unnatural stillness, that choking sensation that always preceded her arrival.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, gathering my resolve. I had to face her alone, keep my pack out of the crosshairs. Silas wouldn’t show mercy. She never did.

The only thing left was to wait for the storm to arrive.

The older members knew better. They moved toward the walls, away from the center of the cave. They had an idea. Who she was. Or at least what she was. The memory of her presence had left marks on those who'd encountered her before. A few of them even had physical scars from their encounters with her or those like her.

One fool, thinking himself braver than he was, scoffed. "How bad could it be?" He was still cocky, still too new to fully understand the depth of danger that lay ahead. "We’ve taken down worse."

The moment he finished speaking, there was a ripple through the air, something dark and twisted that brushed the edges of our minds like icy fingers. The bravado in his voice wavered, and I could see the fear growing in his eyes. Instinctively, the others stepped back. They could feel it now, the oppressive weight of something wrong. They didn’t need to be told. They just knew.

Another of the young ones, too slow to catch the subtle shift, took one more step forward, as though he hadn’t quite figured out yet that his instincts were telling him to flee. Before anyone could stop him, he was knocked off his feet. He hit the ground hard, gasping for air as if something had squeezed the life out of him.

I didn’t bother to help him. He had to learn. Silas wasn’t the type to let anyone go unpunished for stupidity, and the psychotic jester, Gabriel, had already appeared to enforce her twisted sense of order.

"Get out of my mistress's way, doggies!" Gabriel taunted, his voice sharp and grating as nails on glass. His laughter echoed as he danced forward, his long, slender limbs moving with an eerie grace. "Here she comes! Here she comes!"

Two other grotesque figures followed him, their movements jerky and unnatural, like puppets on broken strings. They smelled like vampires, but wrong—tainted, twisted in ways I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just the stench of rot and decay. There was something else about them, something more sinister.

And then, there she was. Silas. The Queen Bitch herself.

The young wolf on the ground groaned, clutching his chest, still struggling for breath. He was learning the hard way what everyone in the pack already knew—you didn’t stand in Silas’s path.

"That one learned quick," one of the older wolves muttered under their breath. "She doesn’t kill ‘em outright… just leaves a mark."

The rest of the pack murmured quietly, their voices low as they gathered by the far wall. None of them were foolish enough to challenge her, or even to look her in the eye. They knew better. They knew what happened to those who defied her. The ones who tried usually ended up severely wounded, broken, but left alive just enough to serve as a reminder of her power.

I growled low in my throat as I watched her approach, Gabriel grinning wickedly by her side like a deranged court jester. The tension in the air thickened, and the temperature rose slightly—a subtle sign of her power creeping through the space.

"Silas," I muttered under my breath, my hands balling into fists. She was here, and there would be no mercy for anyone who stood in her way. Not even me.

She stepped into the cavern, her presence commanding every eye in the room. Her dress flowed behind her like a shadow, and her eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room as though she owned every inch of it.

"Fang," she purred, her voice honeyed but sharp, "you’ve trained them well. At least, some of them know when to stay out of the way."

Gabriel giggled, a high-pitched sound that grated against my nerves. "The pups are learning, Mistress. They'll be obedient soon enough."

Silas ignored him, her eyes locking onto mine. "I see you’ve kept your pack in line, but for how long? You can’t protect them forever, Fang. Sooner or later, they’ll all kneel. Just like you."

I growled, stepping forward. "My pack will never bow to you, Silas."

Her smile widened, dark and menacing. "We’ll see about that, won’t we?"

The young wolf who had been knocked down was now struggling to his feet, his breaths labored and ragged. Silas glanced at him briefly, her eyes flickering with amusement. She didn’t need to say anything. The lesson had already been learned.

As she walked deeper into the cave, the grotesque creatures following her, I could feel the tension ripple through the pack. They feared her, and they were right to. But I would not let her take us down without a fight.

Not now. Not ever.

Silas let the last word hang in the air, her eyes gleaming with that twisted satisfaction that had always unnerved me. She was good at this—too good. Manipulating emotions, twisting truths. Every word out of her mouth was like a dagger aimed straight at the heart.

“Something far more interesting?” I repeated, my voice low, dangerously quiet. “You think what I’ve become is a game to you?”

She took a step closer, unbothered by the distance between us, or perhaps enjoying the fact that I hadn’t pushed her away yet. “Oh, but it is a game, love,” she said, her tone syrupy sweet, masking the venom underneath. “A game you and I have been playing for centuries.”

I could feel the heat rising again, my blood practically boiling as her power radiated through the room. She was testing me, seeing if I’d break under her influence, but I refused to give in. I had been down that road before, and I wasn’t about to fall for her tricks again.

I stood still, watching her with the same wariness one might have in the presence of a predator they couldn’t quite escape. Her words slithered through the air, smooth and venomous, carrying the weight of memories I had tried to bury for decades.

"Is there somewhere more private we can talk?" Silas’s voice shifted from the playful teasing I remembered to something sharper, something serious. That shift was like a blade against my nerves, and I knew that whatever came next wouldn’t be easy.

Without a word, I turned and motioned for her to follow. As we walked through the cave, I could feel my pack’s collective tension rising, their instincts screaming at them to flee or at least stay clear of her. Most of them knew better than to stand in her way, but I could still hear the murmurs, the uncertainty in their voices. I shot them a look, and they immediately backed down, avoiding Silas’s gaze as we passed.

Silas’s presence always had a way of commanding attention, even when she didn’t need to say a word. The temperature dropped as we neared my chambers, the air growing thick with a coldness that seeped into the bones. Some of the older members knew exactly what she was capable of. I overheard one of them muttering, "She’s not like the others... stay out of her way."

They were right. Silas wasn’t like the others. She was worse.

Once inside, I sat down heavily in my chair, trying to collect my thoughts, trying to ignore the weight of everything she represented. Decades of betrayal and bitterness had been stewing inside me, and now here she was, the harpy who had torn my world apart.

The cave grew colder, as she Entered my chambers. My breath almost fogged in front of me as Silas moved through the space with a grace only she possessed. She took her time, as if reacquainting herself with a place she hadn’t seen in years but had once called home."Fang," she purred, her voice a seductive whisper that held all the venom of a snake. "It’s been far too long."

I couldn’t afford to let her see how much her presence still rattled me. Instead, I sat there, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair, knuckles white. I forced myself to meet her gaze, though every instinct in my body screamed at me to look away.

"Not long enough.” I said, my voice steady, though it came out colder than I intended. The bitterness of years hung in my words, sharp and biting. "What do you want, Silas? Because you should not be here."

She stepped closer, her lips curling into that familiar, mocking smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement, as if my anger was a child’s tantrum—something she could toy with. "Oh, Fang," she purred, savoring my discomfort. "I don’t need an invitation. You know that."

Her presence consumed the room as she moved slowly through my chambers, inspecting everything like a predator surveying its prey. My muscles tensed as she neared, the heat rising in my body as if her very presence ignited something primal within me. I fought it back, determined not to show any weakness. I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

Silas leaned in closer, and I could feel her eyes locking onto mine. For just a moment, I sensed her telepathic probing, a subtle nudge against the edges of my mind. She was testing me, seeking a crack in my defenses, looking for the weakness she once so easily exploited.

But I wasn’t weak-minded anymore.

I tore my gaze away before she could fully grip my thoughts, the rush of heat that flooded my veins a reminder of the games she loved to play. The temperature in the room shifted, almost unbearable now, as if she were trying to bend me with her power. But I refused to yield. I’d seen these tricks before.

“Is that what this is?” I growled, my voice lowering, filled with years of suppressed rage. "You come here expecting everything to be the same? Expecting me to fall in line?"

Silas laughed softly, a sound that grated on my nerves, and stepped even closer, her breath cold against my skin despite the heat she stirred. "Oh no, love," she whispered, her words laced with dark promises. "I expect much more from you now."

She smiled, her eyes gleaming with a twisted fondness. "Something only you can give me, love."

My jaw clenched, the muscles tightening as I forced myself to stay seated. Her voice still had the power to unnerve me, making me feel like prey, though I had sworn never to let anyone do that to me again—not after her. I had to remind myself of the danger she posed, not just to me, but to my entire pack.

"What do you want?" I asked, biting down the urge to snarl.

I felt the air around me grow warmer. She was toying with me, heating my blood, but I refused to make eye contact. I knew better. "O, Standing Waters," she purred, her voice dripping with a mix of mockery and affection. "Why so cold? So broody? So... distant?"

Her words crawled under my skin like ice, and despite everything, I rose. My fists slammed into the desk, the echo reverberating through the chamber. "That tends to happen," I snarled, "when you leave someone for dead."

Silas didn’t even flinch. She rolled her eyes with casual dismissal, brushing off my rage as though it were nothing. "But Standing Waters is still in there somewhere, even if you bury him beneath all that anger."

She sauntered over to my dresser, her fingers lazily tracing the surface, as if she still owned it. As if she still owned me. "You do know how to hold a grudge, don’t you?" she teased, her voice laced with condescension.

"Stop calling me that," I bit out. "That man is dead. You saw to that personally."

For the briefest moment, something flickered behind her eyes—regret, doubt, maybe even remorse. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that infuriating smirk she always wore. "Dead? Oh, come now," she purred, leaning back against the dresser, her arms folded. "You survived, didn’t you? Isn’t that what wolves do? Survive at any cost?"

The beast inside me clawed at the edges, but I held it back. I wouldn’t let her see me break—not again, not ever.

“You didn’t just leave me for dead,” I growled, stepping toward her, every step deliberate. “You made me believe you cared. You made me trust you. And then, when I needed you most, you twisted the knife.”

Silas shrugged, her eyes darkening with something colder, something more dangerous. “That’s what happens when you’re naive, Standing Waters. You trusted me. That was your first mistake. You loved me. That was your second.”

I stopped, inches from her now, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Her words cut deeper than any blade ever could. She always knew how to wound me with precision.

“That man is dead,” I repeated, my voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “I’m not Standing Waters anymore. You killed him the day you left.”

Her gaze softened, just for a moment, and I thought I saw a flicker of something—remorse, perhaps? But then it was gone again, replaced by that same icy indifference.

“No,” she said softly, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “I didn’t kill him. I simply showed him what the world truly is. And in doing so, I created something far more interesting.”

Her words hung in the air, suffocating the room. She turned, her fingers tracing the surface of my dresser as she moved to the window.

“Look at you now, Fang,” she said, her back to me. “Alpha of your pack, feared by many, respected by more. I didn’t kill you. I set you free.”

I stood there, fists trembling, knowing there was nothing I could say to undo the past.

“Now, down to business…” Silas said, her voice cutting through the room like the edge of a blade. “This truce between the Long Fang Pack and Garra de la Plaga.”

I gave her a confused look, unsure where this was going.

“Don’t play stupid, Fang,” she sneered, her lips curling in disgust. She spat my name out like it was something vile, something beneath her. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? You think I’ve been sitting idle all these years?”

Her eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity as she leaned in slightly, her presence suffocating. “I have spies everywhere. Did you forget who I am?” Her tone was a mix of superiority and anger, layered with just enough menace to make the air grow heavy. “We didn’t conquer most of Europe without knowing how to build a proper spy network.”

I felt the weight of her words sink in. Of course, Silas had eyes everywhere—she always had. She played the long game, and she played it well. The cold, calculating vampire who had once left me for dead hadn’t lost her edge. If anything, she had become more dangerous, more methodical.

“Your truce—” she emphasized the word with a mocking smile, “—is fragile, and you’ve aligned yourself with hunters. Interesting choice. One misstep, Fang, and everything you’ve built will come crumbling down.”

I clenched my jaw, the beast in me growling beneath the surface. I didn’t respond immediately, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me rattled. Instead, I held her gaze, challenging her to continue.

“You don’t know half of what’s going on, Silas,” I finally growled. “This truce... it’s bigger than you realize.”

Her laughter was sharp, piercing. “Bigger than I realize?” she mocked, crossing her arms as if the very idea was absurd. “You’re amusing, Fang, truly. But I’ve seen your kind break under pressure. I wonder—how long until your alliance with Garra de la Plaga crumbles? How long until they turn on you?”

“Do you think I’m blind to the risks?” I snapped, my voice low and dangerous. “You don’t know everything, Silas. And you don’t control me anymore.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, and in that brief flicker, I saw something... different. Maybe she had expected me to grovel, to back down like I had before. But I wasn’t Standing Waters anymore.

“You’ve changed,” she said, her tone softer, almost reflective. But then, just as quickly, she waved it off. “But it doesn’t matter. Whether you’re Long Fang or whoever you think you’ve become, the fact remains: I hold the cards. I always have.”

I decided to level with Silas, my voice steady but laced with unease. "Someone’s forming a supernatural army. They're trying to form a blighted army as well. Garra de la Plaga asked my pack for help to stop it."

Silas's eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and impatience as she cut me off, her tone sharp and authoritative. "I know, but you made that agreement without ever meeting the other side—the opponents. My coven, Fang." She stepped closer, her presence suffocating as the temperature in the room began to subtly rise. "I'm behind the supernatural army."

I blinked, my body tensing at her revelation. I opened my mouth to speak, but she didn’t give me the chance. "If it wasn’t for Garra de la Plaga interfering back in 1340, my coven would already rule all of Europe—not just a nice chunk." Her voice dripped with venom at the mention at the horrific thing they did.. "But now, I have my sights set on North America."

The room grew warmer, almost stifling as she spoke, her tone smooth but carrying an edge that sent a chill through my spine despite the growing heat. "There are too many players on the field here—hunters, rival packs, even those pitiful vampires clinging to old traditions. But with my army, I’ll sweep them aside."

I shook my head slightly, the weight of her words crashing down on me like a boulder. "You almost managed it during the Civil War, didn’t you?" I muttered, pieces of her plan falling into place.

Silas’s smile was dark, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Almost," she admitted, her tone laced with bitterness. "We came so close. The chaos was perfect—a weakened nation, a fractured spirit. If we could’ve let those factions tear each other apart, I could have swept in with my army and wiped the board clean."

The air grew thick, almost suffocating, as her words hung in the room like a noose. "We could have built a new world, Fang. A world where creatures like us wouldn’t have to hide anymore. No masquerade, no pretending to be something we’re not. But now…" She paused, her eyes narrowing. "The spirit of America has recovered. It’s too strong, too unified. So direct action is going to be needed."

Her gaze bore into mine, and I felt a slow dread creeping up my spine. "And yes, I'm the one making the blighted army." She leaned in, her voice lowering to a deadly whisper. "And you helped. Oh, so much when you let those deserters go. They came over to my side, Fang. They chose power over loyalty. Your pack will die if you don’t side with me."

I stood there, dumbstruck, the weight of her words hitting me like a hammer. "You want to break the masquerade?" My voice was barely above a whisper, a mix of disbelief and horror. "You remember what happened last time? What Garra de la Plaga had to do to stop it?"

Silas’s eyes flared with fury, and the room’s temperature shot up, nearing boiling. I could feel the heat prickling against my skin as sweat began to bead on my forehead. Her rage was palpable, her body vibrating with barely contained power. She screamed at me, her voice reverberating off the cave walls. "And yet, you still side with them now, against me!"

The heat was suffocating, my vision swimming slightly as the room seemed to blur. Silas stood before me, her presence overwhelming, her rage tangible. Her control over the very air around us was terrifying, like a living furnace. I tried to speak, to say something, but her fury was like a wall pressing down on me.

"I gave you a chance, Fang," she hissed, her voice now dangerously low, the temperature dropping suddenly as if to freeze the sweat on my skin. "I gave you the opportunity to join me, to be part of something greater, and you throw it away for what? Loyalty to a dead order? To Garra de la Plaga?" She spat the name with disgust.

"I remember the last time, Fang," she said, her tone filled with venomous sarcasm. "But this time, there’s no Garra de la Plaga that can stop me. You, on the other hand…" She let the threat hang in the air, her cold eyes boring into mine.

It was clear that she didn't care about my pack; she just wanted her attack dogs back.

I clenched my fists, trying to maintain control. "My pack is loyal," I managed, my voice steady despite the tension. "We won’t betray what we stand for."

Silas laughed softly, mockingly, as she stepped closer, the heat rising again, though this time more controlled. "Loyalty?" she purred, her voice silky but lethal. "Loyalty won’t save you when the blighted army rises, Fang. You’ll see. Either you’re with me, or you’re dead."

The ultimatum was clear. Silas was done playing games.I tried to break eye contact with the Huntress, but I could feel her needling my mind. She spoke again,

Silas’s mocking laughter reverberated through the chamber, a sound that twisted in the air like smoke—insubstantial, but suffocating. As she stepped closer, her presence filled the room, thick and oppressive. She leaned in, her voice a purr, laced with venom.

"Let me tell you what's already in motion, Fang," she whispered, every word seeping into my mind like a poison I couldn’t stop. "Garra de la Plaga has two columns of their best agents right here, on this continent. Their spy network is already at work. But, last I heard…" Her smile curled into something wicked, something that made my skin crawl. "They're holed up in a cabin near the Mississippi River in Arkansas. And guess what?" She let the question linger in the air, like bait.

I refused to bite, keeping my silence, keeping control.

She continued, undeterred. "One of their columns is about to break off. Head toward Tennessee." Her eyes gleamed with malevolent delight. "Oh, and your two pups? They’re there too. Fitting in so nicely with those humans. Izzy… and that New Blood. Sarah, wasn’t it?" Her smile widened, twisting with malice. "Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve sent thirteen of my best hunter-killers after them. Led by a former Templar—oh, they’re good, Fang. So good. And your precious pups?" She paused for effect, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "As good as dead."

Her words settled over me like a storm cloud, and though my heart pounded in my chest, I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing it. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to remain calm, forcing my wolf to stay in check.

"Thirteen of your best," I said, my voice steady, but with an edge that cut through the tension. "Against twenty-five seasoned hunters and two Lycans. You’ve sent them to their deaths, Silas."

Her brow arched, amused, and I continued, letting my words sharpen with the truth she didn’t want to hear. "The humans they face aren’t just any mortals. They’ve dedicated their lives to hunting the supernatural, and they’re well-armed, some enhanced beyond what you think. Izzy, who I trained personally, knows exactly how to kill your kind. Sarah, new as she may be, has trained with Izzy for over a year. They’ve fought beside me, and she’s even wounded me in combat." I let the weight of my words sink in. "Your little hunter-killer squad? They won’t stand a chance."

For a brief moment, doubt flickered across her face, but she was quick to snuff it out, her expression hardening into the cold mask of disdain she always wore.

Silas’s eyes burned with fury, her lips curling into a sneer. "You cling to your pride, Fang," she spat. "But you’ll see soon enough. You can’t stop what’s coming. The world’s changing, and you’re either with me, or you’re against me. It’s time to choose."

Her words lingered, a noose tightening around my neck, but as she stared me down, I let my mind drift. I thought of my Firecrackers—of Izzy and Sarah—facing the battle she thought would claim them. A fight Silas didn’t understand. They would fight like hell. They were ready for this.

The memories of my long life, of battles fought and deals made, flickered through my mind. I thought of the crossroads demon, that ancient deal that had shaped so much of my life. Silas’s presence only brought all those old wounds to the surface. She had been the catalyst for much of my hatred, and now, here she was, pushing me once more to the brink.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the rage build within me, coiling tight like a spring. Then, with a slow exhale, I opened my eyes, knowing exactly what had to be said.

I grinned at her, sharp and dangerous, letting my venom show. "You want me to choose, Silas?" I said, stepping closer, my voice low and cold. "Fine. Here’s my choice: fuck your coven, fuck your army, and most of all, fuck you, you traitorous bitch."

Her eyes flashed with shock, then fury, but I didn’t give her a moment to respond. The rage that had been boiling inside me burst free, and I roared with all the power in me. "LONG FANGS! CAST THESE FUCKING MOSQUITOES OUT!" My voice echoed through the chamber like thunder, shaking the very walls. "And if I die today," I snarled, baring my teeth, "find your brethren. In Garra de la Plaga."

The end?

This has been The Banished Lycan by GreyHound.