Monster

The vision was upon me as soon as I was ripped from the fields. I don’t know where I was, all I knew was the vision unfolding in my mind.

I saw Peter’s dark rise unfold before my eyes, every grim detail of his twisted ascent playing out in vivid flashes. It started in France, where I watched him grow up with his family. He had been young, still just a boy, but already the seeds of corruption were festering beneath the surface. His life was a history lesson in slow, insidious decay. It began with an obsession… Peter reading the Grimwood family bestiaries daily. He consumed them like a poison he couldn't resist. The old texts both intrigued and disgusted him, especially the parts about the purge; where the Wicklows had driven their family out of the collective, severing their ties to dark power. The WIcklows had taken their bestiaries and volumes on gypsy culture and their signature power. But… they had not taken everything. The darkest tomes lay hidden in ancient Grimwood homes, passed down in reverent fear. A reminder of the cursed past that could never be repeated. They kept the knowledge, to keep it from the world, to ensure history did not repeat itself; hanging to the quiet life they had grown accustomed.

For most of his family, the past was something to be forgotten, a black heritage they had abandoned in favor of a quieter, safer life. But not Peter. He was angrier, burning with a fury his kin tried to suppress. He felt robbed, cheated of a future, and power denied to him before he was even born. Yet, he wasn't alone in his festering bitterness. There was one other Grimwood who harbored the same hatred, a venomous resentment for the Chasses, the Wicklows, and most of all, the Talbot family. Peter’s grandfather, a man long steeped in that ancient malice, passed his poison down to his grandson, cultivating the hatred with the care of a gardener tending to a deadly plant. I watched as the grandfather took Peter places, taught him things forbidden by his parents. Peter relished it.

Over the years, his grandfather whispered in Peter’s ear, grooming him for the remnants of darkness still within their reach. It was slow, and deliberate, each conversation dripping with venomous intent, shaping Peter into something cold, ruthless. As his grandfather lay dying, he offered Peter one last gift… the knowledge of a power that would give him what they both craved. Revenge. A way to reclaim what had been stolen from their bloodline, to steal back power for himself, no matter the cost.

The moment was twisted, and grotesque. Peter, standing at his grandfather’s side, used a forgotten ritual to gain the dark gift he had studied over the years; a necromantic ability that siphoned life from others. Placing his hand over his grandfather’s heart, Peter sank a twisted dagger through the back of his own hand, and into the quivering heart of the old man. With a pulse of unfamiliar energy, Peter drained the last few moments of his grandfather’s existence, snuffing out the old man’s life, and drawing it into himself. In that instant, Peter felt the surge of unnatural power flow into him, cold and wrong, but intoxicating all the same. It was a power born of death, of stolen time and stolen strength, and it was more than Peter had ever imagined.

But that act, that vile transference, did more than just grant Peter his grandfather’s final wish for ultimate revenge. It caught the attention of something far away… something old, watching from the shadows… unseen. And it saw in Peter the darkness he had embraced, the hunger for more. Unbeknownst to Peter, the ritual he performed with his dying grandfather was the permission needed for something. That was when he became bound to something ancient, something… Primeval.

I saw violent flashes of a battle… a struggle. The Wicklows came at the behest of the peaceable Grimwoods. They knew what Peter and his grandfather had been doing. They called for help, and those whom Peter hated came to destroy him. A battle took place, and power clashed that ripped up the area and the Grimwood home. I watched as a defeated Peter goaded Shelta Wicklow into dipping her hands into evil… and she killed him. Winking his life out and falling over in shock.

Then, Peter was alive again… in another place. I didn’t understand at first. Then, I saw his hurried attempt to steal another life, clumsily attacking strangers in alleys of small towns and old cities of France. His scarred hand pulled the very essence of life out from others to refuel his body. He needed more power. Then it clicked… the Unseen Primeval had bound him, and must have pulled him into his realm to restore him. Yet somehow, I knew Peter didn’t understand what had happened… not yet.

Peter began to reach further, delving into darker places, seeking power that others feared to even whisper of. Warnings came from all sides, dark gypsies, sorcerers, and the like, cautioning him of the dangers of necromancy. But Peter didn’t heed them. Instead, he drained their lives, one by one, feeding the growing abyss within him. He became a shadowy scourge in France, a life-stealing sorcerer whose name was spoken only in hushed tones. Yet, as he grew stronger, he learned that the darkest powers demanded the darkest sacrifices.

Years passed as Peter honed his abilities, each death a slow step toward something far more sinister. And then, after years of preparation, it happened. He made contact. I saw it all, saw the Primeval reach into Peter’s mind, its voice a whisper of promises. The Unseen, the ancient being from the hellscape where Peter left me, had been with him for longer than I could have imagined. The beast never showed itself, not in the physical realm, but it was always there, guiding Peter from within his mind, nurturing the darkness that festered inside him.

Peter’s presence in the living world had drawn the Primeval like a moth to a flame, the connection something the creature had waited for. It cloaked Peter’s foul deeds from those who might sense them. Taught Peter how to use others as pawns, performing his rituals while Peter reaped the rewards. But the Primeval never told him the full truth, never revealed who or what they had to be careful of… what else would look his way.

As I watched the memories play out, I knew exactly what it meant. The warnings were for me. Not me specifically, but the entity I served. The being from the fields would have hunted Peter down, just as it had hunted so many others. Then it would have sent the original Jon to claim him… or me, once I took on the mantle. The Primeval had been protecting Peter, but only for its twisted ends. The deeper Peter sank, the closer he came to a fate that had been sealed long ago.

I saw a meeting between Peter and Darry, the alpha of the werewolf pack I had once slaughtered. The memory unfolded like a carefully orchestrated plot, each step deliberate. Peter had set his plan in motion, laying out the strategy for ambushing the group of hunters that had been tracking the pack. But there was something more beneath the surface… something Peter wasn’t telling Darry. The goal wasn’t to kill all the hunters. One in particular had to be spared: Allen Chasse.

Peter never revealed Allen’s true identity to Darry. He spun a different story, convincing the alpha that the boy was special, strong enough to survive the curse and become a werewolf. Darry, eager to expand his pack and never one to question the promise of more power, had no objections. He was a brute with simple desires, and Peter knew how to manipulate him. The real reason, though, was cruelly simple. Peter wanted to hurt the Chasse family in the deepest way possible. By turning Allen, he could deliver a blow not only to the Chasses but also to the Wicklows and the Talbots, reigniting old wounds and stirring up ancient feuds. His cruelty knew no bounds.

In the last moments of the vision, everything shifted, jumping forward to more recent events. Violent images flashed before me, each one more brutal than the last. I saw a dark beast, a hulking mass of shadows, tearing through the night and ripping Peter in two as if he were nothing more than a plaything. The scene shifted again—this time, Peter was struck by a car, the impact violent and unforgiving, his body tossed aside like an animal crushed underfoot. Then he was under Shelta’s power again, being melted away, and burned alive from the inside. And then, suddenly, Peter was standing in Martin’s parking lot, whole again, as if none of it had ever happened. He grabbed me, took me, and dumped me in the realm of the Unseen. When he returned to the living world, he did something that made my skin itch with fear.

I watched him step into a place that struck me as unsettlingly familiar: a dorm room, small and cramped, but not empty. A girl, someone I didn’t recognize, stood frozen in terror as Peter forced his way inside. Her wide eyes followed him, trembling as she raised her arms in a desperate, silent plea. Peter approached her slowly, a twisted grin creeping across his face, and shushed her with sadistic calm. His hand met her skin, and in that instant, I saw her life drain away. She crumpled to the floor, her body limp and soulless, discarded like trash. Peter didn’t even glance back.

He moved with purpose, crossing the threshold into another room as though he already knew what he sought. He entered a bedroom, rummaging through it with a methodical, almost bored efficiency. Books, clothing, and furniture were all tossed aside as he hunted. His hand found a simple hairbrush, which he turned over in his fingers with a slow, deliberate curiosity. A dark smile tugged at his lips as he inspected it, his eyes alight with malicious satisfaction. He whispered to himself, his words too faint to hear, but the intent was clear. With the brush in hand, he strode out, leaving the girl’s lifeless form behind without a second thought.

As he exited, something outside caught my attention. It was a sign by the door. The realization hit like a punch to the gut. This was Autumn’s dorm room. That girl was her roommate, and the hairbrush Peter now held so casually belonged to Autumn. He hadn’t just killed… he’d come for something personal, something intimate.

Flashes of images rushed through me as Peter performed a ritual. He carefully plucked a few strands of hair from the brush, his hands moving with an almost reverent precision. Dark energy coiled around the object, and I felt the unmistakable sense of something vile taking shape, an intent that would soon come to fruition.

Then, the scene shifted again, and I saw Peter standing face-to-face with someone I recognized immediately: Patrick Wicklow. Fear gripped Patrick, his body shaking in the presence of his father’s murderer. He was alone, defenseless, and terrified. Yet Peter didn’t strike. His eyes held no immediate malice, only cold calculation. This wasn’t about killing… it was about something worse. It was about teaching. He gave Patrick the brush, whispered secrets the vision wouldn’t allow me to hear… and then he vanished from sight.

The visions climaxed into a blinding white light, so intense it felt like my skull was cracking open. My ears rang with a sharp, piercing tone, as though noise could become a dagger and stab my fucking brain. Then it was gone. I was suspended in all-consuming blackness, untethered from everything, drifting into a void where time felt meaningless. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever escape.

And then, slowly, I felt it… solid ground beneath my feet. It was strange at first, like my senses were returning in pieces. The void faded, and the pressure in my chest loosened, releasing me back into reality. My vision began to adjust, colors bleeding through the emptiness until the sharp outlines of the world came into focus again.

The first thing I noticed was the coolness of the air, a faint biting cold brushing against my skin like a warning. The scent of earth and moss filled my nose as I blinked, trying to shake off the dizziness. My eyes adjusted to the dim light of a forest, tall trees looming overhead like watchful sentinels, their branches thick and twisted. Overgrown brush pressed against my legs, wild and unkempt, reclaiming the ground beneath me. The shadows shifted between the trunks, dark and still as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, waiting for me to move.

I reached down and touched the dirt with trembling fingers, feeling the gritty soil as if to prove I was truly back. No longer detached from the human world. I wasn’t in an alien land, in an apocalypse of hungry darkness, or the grave of a Primeval force my brain couldn’t exactly understand. I was back… back on planet Earth where things made sense. I felt like, for the first time since I was stolen from Martin’s parking lot, I could breathe.

In a few seconds, my surroundings clicked into place. I recognized the dense cluster of trees, the wild tangle of roots and vines encroaching on the path. It was familiar. Too familiar. My breath caught as I realized where I was. The entity from the fields, the being I served, had brought me back to Martin’s safe house. However, the clothes it had granted me in the in-between… were gone. I safe house they weren’t real. I sprinted inside, through the door, and knocked it from its hinges. I found my stash of clothes and got dressed. I had to hurry. I had to move, to get to Peter and end this. I don’t know what he did with Autumn's stuff, what he whispered to Patrick… but I had to get to them. To stop Peter before he could finish what he had started.

As soon as I was dressed, I rushed out the door, sprinting into the woods that surrounded my borrowed home. My pace was quick, but I wasn’t panicking. There was a stillness in me, a certainty, which was unusual when I had a name and a vision in my head. The heat of the monster beneath my skin simmered, pressing against its cage… willing me forward, faster. But deeper still, my mind was calm, free of fear for my friends. The cool air of encroaching winter bit at my face as I charged toward Peter. The Primeval power backing him had vanished… he was just a man now. It was time for me to be the hammer, and Peter, the nail. This time, I’d make sure he stayed down.

For a few moments, everything around me faded into silence. It was just me moving through the world in a state of tunnel vision as things were finally coming together; events, conversations, and visions all merging into a higher understanding.

I’d always thought of myself as some kind of monster, a nameless horror from nightmares, destined to destroy those I loved. So, I hid, searching for answers, but none ever came. After everything with Mercy, her coven, and Phineas, I realized that the being who gave me this form was something beyond comprehension, wielding power that dwarfed my own. But even so, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t summoned me for evil purposes. There was doubt, but also moments when I felt a strange trust in him, even when his power made me feel like a leashed pet. Despite finding nothing in the vast Chasse library to explain the entity, I came to terms with my dark nature. I had a purpose… I just couldn’t see it clearly.

Doubt would creep in between our encounters, when I had time to think with my limited knowledge, muddying the waters of my mind. I thought, what if the being, like Peter, was just another necromancer? What if all of this was a ploy to trap me in monstrosity? Maybe I wasn’t balancing anything but was merely a killer, deceived into believing I was serving a noble cause or something. The doubts plagued me… what if the lives I took… were innocent?

But now, things were finally clear. My black eyes met the burning orange irises of the Unseen; a being from another dimension who transformed mortals into his heralds of corrupted power. He collected power through them to disrupt the balance, but after he saw my strength, and called me brother, I saw fear in him. Not fear of me, or the primeval power I held, but fear of the power behind me… the Entity. That was the real terror, the thief of the Unseen’s world, the killer of his siblings.

Annabelle’s brief moment with me after she died only confirmed it. I saw her body but spoke to her as though she were still alive, and she passed on. She saw her husband, Michael, who guided her beyond. Everything clicked into place for me.

My mind wasn’t clouded anymore. The inner struggle with the beast was gone at that moment, and the chaos of my life with the Chasse family finally made sense. All the pieces were forming one clear picture. I’d had fleeting thoughts before, but they seemed too insane to hold on to. Now, as the realization dawned, I felt calm. But I couldn’t dwell on it… not yet. There was a job to finish, and if I let myself think about it now, I might falter.

In only a short while, I made it to the Chasse property under cover of night. My legs slowed to a walk through the last few feet of trees. I could see and hear precisely what was happening in the backyard of the large Chasse property. I felt like I passed through a fog as soon as I left the trees. It clung to me as I stepped out into the open, but I brushed it off as I continued towards my charge. It felt familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Whatever it was, it was not my doing, but it didn’t deter me. I knew what I’d do, and that Peter wouldn’t leave this place alive.

Everyone was there: all of our friends, family, and even Charles’ two cohorts that had been sent from below the city. They were all there and in an aggressive state. All the hunters, gypsies, and monsters looked into the middle of the grassy area at two individuals. Shelta stood high above a kneeling Peter, looking like she was exerting herself to the highest degree. Peter looked to be resisting her efforts as much as he could, but he could not stand.

The fight had already happened; I missed it… again. Everyone looked beaten and bloody, but they were all still standing. On the ground at their feet were the bodies of more disgusting devourers, and a few creatures with chalky white skin and faded red eyes. They looked like some kind of vampire, especially since I saw Alex pinning one to the ground with her indomitable strength as she sucked the life from it. She only fed on vampires, so it was definitely what they were. Through my focused intent, I scanned the field for Autumn, Eleanor, and Carter, only to see them catching their breath over a pile of eviscerated creatures that had attacked and failed. Autumn had scratches and cuts across her arms and face, but she was okay. They all were okay, just as I knew they would be.

Autumn was dirty and covered in blood, but I could still see the same beautiful face under it all. Her dark hair was tied back in a slick ponytail, and she was dressed in the same tactical fighting gear that she usually wore into hunts. I didn’t see any ranged weaponry on her, only knives and handguns like her father was typically equipped with. They must have had to improvise for whatever they had planned out. I wanted to go to her and see her up close, touch her, and make sure she was okay, but I had to finish this.

Whatever their plan was, it had worked up to this point. There were no creatures left standing that meant my friends any harm, only the overpowered Peter.

I felt like I was having déjà vu when I saw it all, but then I remembered Annabelle’s words. She said that once she transferred her power to Shelta, then she would have enough power to contain Peter. However, I would be the one to ultimately finish the dark gypsy. Everything was as she said, even me being there in her dying moments. Only I wasn’t there in a physical sense, but I was there to meet her in the afterlife.

Everyone was worn out and distracted from the carnage and chaos of the fighting. Jane, Alan, and Eloise were all side by side and looking feral as ever, while Frank stayed close but armed with a silver machete. The bodies piled around them were numerous and ripped to pieces. Most of them were devourers, but I saw a few more human-looking bodies I sensed to be vampires.

Charles and his two friends from the Pits lingered close to Shelta, but far enough away that they would be out of reach from Peter. I think they all feared if he got too close, he’d steal their life just as he had with Zeke and Bartley.

The fighting was over, and Peter was down, but they seemed to be caught in a standstill. They didn’t seem like they knew of a way to kill Peter, and we’re relying solely on Shelta to keep him in place. I began to wonder if Annabelle told her I would come, or if she was standing there, hoping to figure out a plan.

No one realized I was there. They all must have been so caught up and distracted with everything else that they did not see the shadow that crept through the darkness of the yard. The way I moved and entered the area felt different, almost like I wasn’t physically there but still in the place between the living and dead, like when I saw Annabelle. I couldn’t tell the difference in Shelta’s home, so I didn’t think I would be able to tell now. Yet it seemed like no one could sense my presence, which was incredibly strange since the wind was at my back, and there were multiple werewolves present. They should have smelled me coming a mile away. I used this to my advantage and came upon Shelta and Peter slowly just in case anyone became aware of my presence. Once I was a foot away from Peter, it happened.

Peter's eyes flashed green, and a force of power shot out from him in all directions as an audible scream escaped his throat. It was him using all the power he had to fight back against the superior strength of the Wicklow family. Shelta fell backward at the shockwave as well as everyone else, stumbling out of their recovering stances. Peter stood as they all fell to their knees.

Peter turned from them all and twisted his hands to his side like he was trying to pry open a door nobody else could see. He struggle and struggled, the green flare of his eyes flickering and dimming, until they reverted to fully human. “What?” he asked aloud. “Why won't you let me come back?” Peter asked aloud, not to anyone present. The power wouldn’t work for him anymore.

I knew who he was talking to… rather, who he was trying to talk to. They didn’t exist anymore. He was trying to portal away to the Unseen’s dimension. I smiled from behind the veil, there was no place to portal to anymore.

Peter spun back around violently, panic rushing his mind. “You think you’ve won? You cannot win against my power! I grow in strength with every kill while you all slowly fail,” Peter yelled at them angrily. His devilish grin was replaced by snarling hatred. “I’m going to take you all! None of your families will be left standing. I’m going to tear you down like your family did to mine.” Peter's eyes burned green again as he stepped towards Shelta, but dimmer.

Shelta scrambled desperately on her hands and knees, her fingers clawing at the earth in a futile attempt to escape. Panic swallowed her as one of the strangers Charles brought hurled himself at Peter. The man shifted mid-air, his body twisting into the same translucent, ghostly form he had used before to strike Peter in Martin’s parking lot. He flew over the field littered with corpses, aiming to tear out Peter’s throat.

But Peter was faster. With an almost effortless motion, he snatched the phantom from the air, gripping its intangible form and dragging it back into the physical realm as if defying the laws of reality itself. The stranger barely had time to struggle before Peter’s hands clamped around his throat, fingers digging into the flesh with terrifying force.

Peter's eyes pulsed violently as they locked onto his victim, a sinister gleam of power radiating from him. The air around them seemed to thicken as Peter’s grip tightened, crushing the man’s neck with the finality of death, his eyes burning a slight shade brighter. The ghostly figure writhed for a heartbeat longer before his body went utterly limp, collapsing into Peter’s clutches like a puppet with its strings cut.

With a casual toss, Peter discarded the corpse to the blood-soaked earth, a lifeless husk drained of both its spirit and power. The man had barely even fought back, his life snuffed out in a single, devastating touch. Peter stood over the body, victorious, the stolen life force humming beneath his skin as he claimed yet another victim.

It was a shock to everyone in the expanse. Even I had to admit that I did not see that coming, especially with that man’s strange ability. He seemed powerful, but he was just snuffed out like a small flame in the wind against Peter’s unnatural power to siphon your very life away. Yet, I still knew how this would end. It did not matter to me how much power Peter attained. I knew that it would be me that ended this corrupted man’s life. I was still calm.

As Peter turned back toward Shelta, with everyone else scrambling to regain their footing and composure, something around me shifted. The shimmer in the world around me evaporated in an instant, like stepping through the threshold of another world. The moment I crossed into this new clarity, my presence hit like a shockwave.