First flight, forbidden incounter

The cool night air brushed past Lysander as he stood on the balcony, staring at the moon. His sisters had always warned him to stay inside, saying that only the strong could survive in the world outside. But he wasn’t like his sisters. He was different. He was determined to prove that he could do something they couldn’t.

With a deep breath, he took a step forward, his wings spreading slightly behind him, the tips brushing the stone. His heart raced. Tonight, he would fly.

"I’ll be the first," he muttered to himself. "I’ll be the first to actually fly."

For weeks, he’d been sneaking away to practice, hidden from his sisters. They were still struggling to even glide properly—but not him. He was going to do it. He had to.

He took another step, his heart pounding in excitement, and suddenly, with a leap of faith, he jumped into the air.

For a brief moment, he felt weightless, the wind rushing past him, his wings catching the night air. He was flying. He was actually flying.

But then, as the wind grew stronger, his balance faltered. His wings were awkwardly flapping, the muscles not yet used to the intensity. His body swayed from side to side, and panic surged through him.

"I’m going to fall—!" he thought, his stomach twisting.

THUD.

The world spun as the ground rushed toward him, and in an instant, he was plummeting toward the earth.

He crashed into a bed of leaves, the air knocked out of him, and the sting of pain rippling up his leg. His wings were bruised, and the world was spinning.

"Ow... that hurts," Lysander groaned, trying to push himself up but failing. He winced, glancing around. He was far beyond the borders of the kingdom. The trees here looked different, thicker. Dangerous.

He tried to stand but only stumbled. His foot caught a root, and he fell face-first into the dirt. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

"Great. Just great," he muttered to himself, struggling to his feet. "I’m lost and hurt. And I can’t even fly right..."

A low growl cut through the air, freezing him.

Lysander’s heart pounded as he slowly looked over his shoulder. A massive figure stepped from behind the trees, his eyes glowing a fierce yellow in the dim light.

The Alpha werewolf had arrived.

Lysander’s heart raced as he stared at the towering Alpha, his mind scrambling to make sense of the situation. The air felt thick with tension as the Alpha’s figure loomed over him. Despite the red cloth covering his eyes, the Alpha radiated an undeniable, terrifying power. His long, silky hair flowed gently in the wind, and his tail flicked behind him with every step. Lysander couldn’t help but notice the hybrid’s finely honed, muscular body, a stark contrast to his own slender, fragile frame.

Lysander tried to steady his breath, wincing at the pain in his leg. He barely noticed the Alpha’s low growl as the werewolf stepped closer, the ground beneath his feet seeming to tremble with every movement.

“You look pathetic,” the Alpha muttered with a scoff, his voice dripping with disdain. “A vampire, helpless in my territory. You barely know how to fly, and now you’ve injured yourself. You’re nothing but a joke.”

Lysander’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he said nothing, unwilling to show his weakness further. The Alpha’s piercing gaze, despite being hidden behind the red cloth, felt as though it were cutting through him, inspecting every flaw.

The Alpha crouched down beside Lysander, a low growl escaping his throat. “You’ve made quite a mess of yourself. You might be a vampire, but you’re far from impressive.” He pulled out a small vial from his belt, uncorking it with a quick flick of his wrist. “Here, drink this. It’ll heal your leg, though I doubt it’ll fix your wings. Pathetic.”

Lysander recoiled slightly at the tone, but he didn’t want to protest. His leg was throbbing, and though the Alpha was insufferable, the offer of help was something he couldn’t turn down. Reluctantly, he took the vial, the bitter liquid burning down his throat as soon as he swallowed.

The Alpha watched him with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “You vampires are all the same,” he sneered. “So fragile. Pathetic little creatures thinking they’re better than everyone else.” He glanced at Lysander’s wings, still awkwardly fluttering with the strain of flight. “And those wings—how the hell do you even manage to fly with such… pathetic excuses for wings? I’ve seen more graceful creatures in my yard.”

Lysander bit back a retort, too humiliated to say anything. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as the Alpha’s harsh words pierced his pride. His wings felt heavier than ever now, but he had no choice but to endure the ridicule. He had no idea who this Alpha was, but he didn’t seem like the type to let things slide.

“Your wings can barely hold you up,” the Alpha continued, voice dripping with scorn. “I should be the one asking you what you’re doing here, but all I’m getting is a pitiful display. You should go back before I decide to tear you apart just for being such a weakling.”

Lysander took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. The healing potion was starting to work, and the pain in his leg slowly dulled, but the sting of the Alpha’s words remained. He could feel his pride being shattered with every insult, but he had to remain strong. He couldn’t let this werewolf see how much he was hurting.

“Y-You think you can just order me around?” Lysander finally managed, his voice shaky but defiant. “I’m not some lowly creature you can push around.”

The Alpha’s lips curled into a dark smile, though his eyes remained hidden. “Oh, but you are. You’re in my territory now, little vampire. And in my territory, you follow my rules.” He paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. “And that means you leave before I decide to make an example of you.”

Lysander swallowed hard. The Alpha’s presence was overwhelming, and though his words were harsh, there was an underlying sense of power that made Lysander’s heart race. He couldn’t afford to anger him further.

With a deep breath, Lysander slowly stood up, forcing himself to steady his shaky legs. His wings fluttered again, awkward and stiff, but he couldn’t let the Alpha see how much it hurt.

“Fine,” Lysander muttered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll leave.”

The Alpha gave a low chuckle. “You’d better, or you won’t be able to leave at all. Go back to your kingdom, little vampire. It’s where you belong.”

Lysander gave him one last, hesitant look before turning on his heels. His wings struggled to carry him as he flew awkwardly, the weight of the Alpha’s insults still weighing heavily on his heart. The bitter taste of the healing potion still lingered in his mouth, but it was nothing compared to the sting of humiliation he felt.

As Lysander flew away, the Alpha’s voice echoed in his mind: “Get back to your kingdom before I tear you apart.” He knew the Alpha wasn’t joking.

To be continued

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