h4Chapter 341: A Brand New World/h4

strongVincent/Vaelthor /strong

The demon world had chewed us up and spat us out like spoiled meat, and now here we were—reborn with new names, new faces—standing in a ce that felt like a dream painted in impossible colors. We hadn’t even caught our breath in that strange, lush forest before the world itself began whispering. Not the guttural snarls and sulfurous growls of the infernal realm we’d escaped, but something softer, wilder. Voices drifted through the air like secrets carried on the windughter, echoes, and beneath it all, a strange hum that curled around my heightened senses. The forest smelled sharp and metallic one moment, sweet and smoky the next, as if it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.

Pine needles crunched beneath our boots as Sylthara and I pressed forward, the gold bleeding from the sky into a twilight that set the trees ame with shadows. My sister—now wearing her carefully woven mortal guise—clung to my arm. Her crystalline-blue eyes were wide, reflecting both wonder and unease as though she was staring into a new universe.

"Vae... I mean... Vincent," she whispered, testing the name like it was a fragile incantation that might shatter if spoken too loud. Her voice, melodic yet uncertain, trembled in the thickening air. "Do you hear it? Thatughter? It’s not cruel like before. And the smells—Vincent, they’re alive. Sweet, smoky, fresh. Not brimstone. What’s pulling us forward?"

I tightened my grip on her hand, my gaze scanning the forest that seemed to breathe around us. "I don’t know, Winter. But something’s drawing us. Maybe it’s answers. Maybe vengeance. Either way... it’s meant for us. Stay close."

We pressed on, weaving through underbrush that felt alive in a way our old world never did. Birds darted overhead, jeweled wings catching thest scraps of light. The wind brushed against our skin, not to sear us but to cool, to remind us of life. Still, the deeper we went, the louder the alien world becameyered sounds of grinding metals, shrill cries, and sharp honks that raked at my instincts until my shadows twitched under my skin, begging to be unleashed. I forced them back. We weren’t demons here. Not anymore. We were Vincent and Winter. Mortals, or something close enough to pass.

No horns. No ws. Just this body of mine—tall, broad-shouldered, my hair ck as midnight falling across my forehead—and her, radiant as a storm in golden waves and mortal grace.

Then, without warning, the forest broke open. The trees fell away, and we stumbled into... chaos.

Before us sprawled a city unlike anything we had ever imagined. Towers of ss—not any kind we have ever seen—and steel stabbed at the sky, their surfaces glittering with thest fire of sunset as lights blinked alive one by one. Streets teemed with people—humans, if the tome’s sketches were true—moving in tides of chatter andughter. Their scents were dizzying: sweat and sweetness, fried food and smoke, life pressed into every breath.

And the beasts. Hell be damned, the beasts. Metal creatures thundered along ck ribbons of road, their eyes glowing like predatory fire as they carried people inside their bellies. The roar of them rattled in my chest.

Winter’s gasp broke into the night, her grip on my arm tightening. "Vincent... look! It’s beautiful. So bright, so alive. No chains. No pits. We did it. We’re free."

I couldn’t stop the grin that stretched across my face, fierce and almost painful. My chest swelled with a joy so rare it felt stolen. "Yeah, Winter. We are. Look at them, running this world like they own it. But this is their domain, not ours. We don’t know the rules yet. Stay sharp, Syl. We blend in, or we burn."

At first, it was exhrating. We walked the sidewalks like shadows learning to mimic the living. The city swallowed us, its noise and lights an intoxicating storm. Every step was an assault on my senses—hot food sizzling on carts, clouds of smoke and oil from the beasts, sweet scents and sweat and rain on warm stone. My stomach twisted, hunger wing at me harder than it had in days.

But exhration faded quickly into disorientation. We were strangers dropped into the heart of a storm, newborns stumbling through a world that would crush us if we weren’t careful.

That’s when the trouble started. One of those roaring contraptions—a smooth, red thing on round legs—barreled toward us as we stepped off the curb, its roar ring like a demon’s challenge. I froze, instincts kicking in.

"What in the voids?! Why is it charging at us?" I snarled, shadows instinctively uncoiling from my fingertips as I shoved Winter behind me.

Her gasp was sharp, terrified. "Vincent—it’s made of metal! Its skin is metal! It’sing straight for us like some hell-beast. Don’t let it touch you!"

Without thinking, I lunged forward, mming my palms against its glossy front as it screeched to a halt inches away. The thing vibrated under my touch, hot and metallic, but it didn’t bite back. "Back off, you metal monster!" I growled, my demonic strength denting the hood slightly. People around us stopped, staring with mouths agape, whispering.

The person inside the beast’s belly, a flustered human male with a beard, leaned out the window. "Hey, kid! What the hell? Get out of the road—you trying to get killed?"

Winter tugged at my sleeve, her face flushed with embarrassment and giggles bubbling up. "Vincent, it’s not fighting back. Maybe it’s... tamed? But why are they looking at us like we’re the monsters?"

I straightened, heat creeping up my neck as more humans gawked, some pulling out small rectangles and pointing them at us. "I... thought it was attacking. In our realm, things that roar like that eat you." Laughter rippled through the crowd, and I forced a charming smile, the dangerous kind that usually disarmed foes. "Sorry, folks. New in town. Won’t happen again."

We hurried away, Winter stiflingughs. "You dented it! Like a warrior facing a dragon. But Vincent, these mortals... they’re so fragile. No wonder they ride in those things."

The strangeness didn’t end with the metal beasts. As we drifted past a row of glowing windows, Winter suddenly froze, her eyes widening in horror. From one of the panes, a rectangr box flickered with light—inside it, people moved and spoke, their voices booming unnaturally loud.

They weren’t whispering threats or snarling curses like the shades of our old world. No, they talked of weather, of wars, of things I barely understood, while another human sat staring at them as if this t prison was perfectly normal.

Winter let out a sharp gasp and stumbled back, her hand pping over her mouth. "Ghosts!" she hissed, her voice pitched high with panic. "Vincent, there are spirits trapped in that mirror! And they’re speaking—to us!"

I leaned closer, narrowing my eyes. The hum of strange energy prickled along my senses, but the figures... they didn’t breathe. Didn’t feel alive. I tilted my head, piecing it together. "No... wait. They’re not real. It’s not a spirit prison. Look closely—the humans inside don’t notice us. It’s an illusion. A mechanical one."

A man walking by caught our bewilderment andughed outright, shaking his head as if we were children marveling at shadows. My jaw tightened, irritation flickering, but Winter clung to me, her wide eyes darting nervously.

And then it got worse. A woman nearby pulled out one of the strange rectangles everyone seemed to carry. She pressed it to her ear and started speaking—loudly, casually. "Yes, Mom, I’m fine... I told you, I’ll be hometer."

Winter stiffened against my arm, her voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "She’s talking to thin air," she breathed. "Vincent... is she mad? Or—" her eyes flicked around the street in suspicion "—is there an invisible demon whispering back?"

I bit down on augh, though amusement tugged at my lips. "If there is, Winter, it’s a very patient demon. Listen—whatever these things are, the humans treat them like tools, not curses. We need to act like we understand."

She frowned, still unconvinced, her voice sharp as she whispered, "Tools shouldn’t talk back."

I chuckled despite myself, pulling her along. "Maybe it’s a spell. These mortals have their own magic—the tome said something about ’technology.’ But yeah, it’s creepy. Makes our nightmares seem tame."

We wandered like shadows for hours, the excitement of discovery fading into something heavier—exhaustion, hunger, the slow gnawing ache of having nowhere to belong. No den. No fire. Just endless cold streets and the hollow rumble of our stomachs. Two days in this strange realm and we were already learning the art of invisibility—slipping into alleys when the sun fell, curling against damp brick walls that stank of garbage, rain, and loneliness.

That evening, Winter pressed her forehead to the restaurant window, her breath fogging the ss as she stared inside. Humans feasted on steaming tes piled with colors and scents that nearly drove us mad. Her voice was small, almost trembling. "Vincent... I’m so hungry. Those smells... I could almost—" she hesitated, her lips parting with a dangerous glint "—eat one of them. Just a nibble."

Her words wed at me, because the temptation lived in me too. My stomach twisted painfully, saliva burning at the back of my throat. I forced the hunger down, jaw tightening. "Don’t even joke. We’re not like that here. We blend, remember?" My voice softened as the smells overwhelmed me. "But hell, I know. Just... just watch."

And then luck—kind, improbable luck—found us. The restaurant door swung open and a burly man in a flour-dusted apron stepped out, his eyes settling on us. His gaze didn’t harden with suspicion like so many others. It softened.

"You kids look half-starved," he said, his voice rough but kind. He held out two paper-wrapped bundles. "On the house—hamburgers. Eat up, and find somewhere warm tonight."

Winter blinked, stunned, then epted the bundle as if it might vanish. "Thank you, sir," she whispered, unwrapping the paper with delicate fingers. Her eyes darted up. "What... what is it?"

The manughed, hearty and warm. "First time, huh? Beef, bread, and a few extras. Trust me, you’ll like it." He tipped his chin and disappeared back inside.

We retreated into the safety of the alley, sinking to the cold ground. I tore into mine first. The taste hit me like fire and rain—juicy, savory, rich,yered with vors I’d never known. It was warmth,fort, life wrapped in a bun. My chest constricted. "Winter... this is heaven. Sweeter than stolen souls. Try the meatbined with the green stuff."

She nibbled, then gasped, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Oh, Vincent! It’s like... sunlight wrapped in meat. Soft and warm and kind. That man—he gave it freely. Mortals aren’t all bad."

Her words cracked something in me. Gratitude swelled, tangled with grief for everything we had lost. I nodded, swallowing both food and emotion. "Yeah. Makes me ache for what we never had. But we’ll survive this. For Mother. For Father."

Night fell like a heavy curtain, and we shifted base to our imed corner of the alley—the same scraps of cardboard we called bedding. The city’s roar softened into distant sirens and murmurs, a luby of strange machinery. Winter curled against my chest, her golden hair brushing my chin, my arms wrapping around her as shadows seeped out to cloak us in stolen warmth.

"Vincent," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It’s cold. And strange. But with you... I feel safe."

I stroked her hair, protective instinct rising sharp and strong. "I promised I’d protect you, Winter. Always. We’ll find them soon—the Lycan King and Queen, Zane and Natalie. The ones who slew Mother. And when we do, they’ll pay. Slow. Calcted. No rushing in like fools."

She sighed, sinking deeper into my embrace. "I know. But what if... we like it here? The lights, the tastes, the freedom."

My voice dropped to a vow, fierce and tender. "Then we take it all. Revenge first. Love...ter. Sleep now. I’ve got you."

For a moment, fragile peace held us. And then it shattered.

Footsteps echoed at the mouth of the alley—heavy, deliberate. My body snapped rigid, shadows rippling at my feet. Five figures emerged from the gloom, rough-edged, scarred, their eyes hard and cold. Three men, two women, each clutching strange weapons—sticks of metal, some long, some short, glinting under the pale streetlight.

One of them,nky with wild eyes, pointed straight at us. "Boss, that’s them—the demons I saw earlier. Fighting that car like idiots. Smelled wrong. Not human."

My stomach dropped. Impossible. Our mours were wless. Panic coiled, but I buried it, rising slowly, cing myself in front of Winter. She clutched my shirt, her voice trembling. "Vincent? Who are they?"

"Stay behind me," I hissed, eyes locked on theirs, masking fear with menace. "What do you want? We’re just trying to sleep."

The leader stepped forward, a broad-shouldered woman with a scar carved across her cheek. Her short stick gleamed as she raised it, steady and sure. "You don’t belong here. Demons like you—escaped filth from your realm. We’re the Wardens. Trained to hunt and kill your kind before you corrupt ours."

The word hit me like ice water. Wardens. They knew.

I forced steel into my voice. "You’re mistaken. We’re mortals. Leave us be."

She smirked, cruel and certain. "Nice mour, kid. But we see through lies. And that stunt with the car? Amateur."

The Wardens leveled their sticks in unison, fingers tightening.

Winter’s whisper wed at me, terrified. "Vincent... what are those things? They look... scary."

"I don’t know," I muttered, heart hammering, shadows pooling thicker around me. "But if they attack—"

The crack came first. Deafening, like thunder tearing the alley apart. Fire spat from the end of a stick, and agony ripped through my arm. I staggered, knees buckling, hot blood pouring down my sleeve as Winter screamed my name.