Samhain

chapter two: the part where they meet

The cabin is filled with a warm, inviting orange light, its walls bathed in the soft embrace of the lamplight's glow. Wooyoung, desperately avoiding the figure lying in bed, tries to steady his trembling hands as he reaches into his tote bag. In hushed tones, he whispers incantations until all of the ingredients he needs have found their way into his grasp.

Wooyoung's world seemed to crash around him when he laid eyes on the stranger. It wasn't just that the man was beautiful; his beauty was so entrancing it was suspicious - like there had to be some kind of catch. Looking at him is like looking at an apple so lovely it has to be poisoned. It's the kind of beauty that demands a closer look, a magnetic charm that's as enchanting as it is foreboding.

The air in the room is dense, settling in his lungs like lead. He would be smitten if it weren't for the smell. The smell is an affront to the gods. A strong rotten wet dog scent sweeps through the air. Wooyoung dabs mint essential oil under his nose, eyes watering from the smell of an alpha in extreme distress.

Taking a deep breath to clear his sinuses, Wooyoung turns around to face him again.

The cabin is now a hub of activity; several of the werewolves who had formed the welcoming party were now standing around the bed. All eyes are fixed on Wooyoung, especially the leader's, as they collectively wait with bated breath for Yeosang to carefully peel the bandages off of the dying werewolf.

The angry red stab wound peeks out from under the bandages, stretching out to the size of Wooyoung's hand. A silver dagger had been plunged deep into the werewolf's chest, narrowly missing his vital organs. Silver is lethal to werewolves, and its impact is clear. Blood oozes out as soon as the pressure from the bandages is lifted; dark purple and red paint the skin across his chest like a gruesome canvas.

Their eyes meet.

He could say that time slowed down, or that he got the unmistakable feeling that this moment would redefine the rest of his life. That perhaps the universe conspired to draw them together in this way just so that their eyes may meet.

The stranger's eyes, dark as the bark of an ancient oak tree with all the sincerity of autumn, pierce into Wooyoung and hold him captive. Stray raven-black strands of hair frame his forehead as he observes Wooyoung with careful scrutiny.

As soon as Yeosang is finished removing the bandages, the man on the bed begins to writhe in pain. Wooyoung watches as the blood vessels near the wound on his chest rise to the surface, causing dark red stripes to form like red lightning bolts under his skin.

Wooyoung breaks out of his trance and tosses the ingredients onto the bedside table. He flips his spell book open even though he already has every step memorized. He knows what he's doing. He's at the top of his class; he's one of the best magic users at his university.

So why is he so flustered?

"Come on, Wooyoung, please hurry," Yunho urges. Beside him, Yeosang helplessly brushes the hair out of the stranger's face while he cries out in pain.

"I'm moving as fast as I can!" He retorts, frustration building as he hastily sets up the spell.

The sense of urgency in the room is evident. Wooyoung can't help but wonder why, despite his skill, he suddenly feels so... uncertain. Is it the lingering anxiety from that spell mishap from a few days ago? He'd never experienced such a catastrophic spell failure before, and the possibility of it happening now that he holds this werewolf's life in his hands makes his skin crawl.

As small sigils pop and flicker around his head like mini fireworks, Wooyoung takes a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing thoughts. He tends to overthink when he's nervous, but now, more than ever, he needs to regain his focus.