(ACT 01) The other half

. . .

“And then my soul saw you and it kind of went, ‘Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you’.”

—Iain Thomas

. . .

ALASTOR NYX:

Alastor had been prepared to trade blows with Tony there and then—in his defense, the fucker was so asking for it, anyway—but in the most bewildering, awaited moment in his life, Alastor's already sharp senses suddenly turned to new heights he never thought possible.

Taken aback, he sucked in a deep breath, confused, and momentarily frightened of the all-too encompassing sensations that assaulted him, threatening to drown him in it.

Suddenly, he distinguished a new, exquisite scent from ahead—past the coppery smell of blood and sweat where he was smacked right in the middle of, petrichor, flowers, dirt, and blades of grass—the onslaught of nature’s intensified scents overwhelmed him, temporarily bearing down on him and yet, for some reason... time itself felt like it was slowing down.

But somehow, in some way, Alastor knew…

This is him meeting his other half.

He can tell his mate was not amongst the players on the field but had been close enough which is why he had sensed their presence, why he was able to detect their heavenly scent in the first place... such an unforgettable scent that reminded him of something sweet, a pleasant combination of vanilla and honey and… and home.

Alastor didn't even know what his mate looked like, what was their name, or if they are a werewolf, human, nymph... yet he'd been waiting for so long—his entire life—for this person to show up.

His head snapped around immediately to the direction where the enchanting scent was coming from, trying to find and finally see his–

Oh.

Oh...

A tall, slender woman with black hair in a left-sided braid, dressed in all black stood all alone, off to the side of the field, appearing more like a shadowy silhouette than an actual person in the midst of the misty rain.

There you are.

Alastor did not mean to gape at her like a fish out of water, (seriously, can you blame him? Just look at her) because he had planned to open his mouth to call out to her, get her attention, get her to look at him, do something, say something, he wanted to say her name, she’s–

Mine.

Yes, embarrassingly enough, at the first sight of his mate, his jaw just went slack, his brain short-circuiting because oh, oh my gods.

His mate was so near and yet so far like, a mile or so away from where he was, standing tall and completely apart from the nymphs and the players, but he can still see her clearly through the rain, could make out every stunning feature that she had to offer.

She has a soft, delicate face… one that he’d love to wake up to every single day, pouting rosy lips and wide eyes that was the color of the purest obsidian framed by slender brows and thick eyelashes. In one gloved hand, she was holding on to a sword with a black handle, her gaze intense, unblinking. Locked on to the direction of the nymphs. His mate looked like an artist’s painting: a fucking masterpiece brought to life.

…and Alastor almost wanted to scream OH MY GODS, YES, YOU! I love you already! Praise Artemis, my mate looked so cool and don’t even get me started with her scent–

But the next thing he knew, the side of his face was suddenly flattened on the field, vision rudely robbed off of his mate and he dimly registered his right shoulder popping at the sudden impact, his jaw stinging faintly from where Tony had struck him.

Alastor growled then, not with pain but with frustration, swiping the other alpha's legs with a swift kick, causing the other to fall down on his ass and that’s it, fucker, you’re going to Hades.

At the murderous look on his face, Sean and Harry immediately ran to Alastor at once before he could do just that, some from the opposing team trying to drag the two alphas away from each other before things started to get really ugly.

“Fuck, Al, that's enough!” Sean yelled.

“You tell him that!”

“FUCK YOU!”

“YOU FUCK OFF!”

“Quit it, Tony!”

Alastor struggled to get on his knees, coughing and taking in large gulps of air, not daring to take his eyes off of his mate again, an irrational fear of her disappearing bubbling up for some reason.

Completely unaware of her spectator, she twirled her sword, slowly… treating it more a plaything than a weapon, causing the polished blade to glint ominously amidst the rain. Suddenly, in a ghostly yet precise movement, his mate, right before his very eyes, began to blend into the misty rain and shadows. And all but disappeared from where she stood.

…wait. What?

What the hell?!

Alastor gawked, eyes wildly darting around the area for his mate, her scent lingering teasingly until he found her.

There.

This time, she was noticeably closer to the nymphs, startling some of them when she seemed to pop right out into existence, but she paid the commotion she just caused no heed, her gaze on a fire nymph—no, Alastor immediately corrected himself, that was an empousa—and his mate was poised, moving with a stance that he belatedly realized she was aiming to kill.

His mate never blinked, never tore her eyes off of the empousa who was staring right back at her like a deer in the headlights as she faded again into the shadows, causing the nymphs to let out a collective shriek.

Not a second after, a black apparition suddenly swept through the nymphs into a wide arc, her sword slicing neatly through the empousa's waist, severing no one else but the monster into two.

A shadowy specter, his mate was.

“Amazing…” Alastor breathed out.

The empousa didn't even saw it coming.

But when his mate reappeared where the empousa was last seen standing alive, she seemed unimpressed with the result, looking the slightest bit dismayed as she poked lightly at the still corpse with the tip of her sword.

Stunned… and very much still in awe, Alastor watched his mate pushing some of her hair off of her strikingly pale face before casually weaving her way through the frightened nymphs—who all wisely steered clear away from her path, all looking like they wanted to flee but were too terrified to make sudden movements—but his mate was composed, confident and acted like she had every right to be there.

Once she reached the edge of the field where a river was located, his mate lazily raised one gloved hand in a beckoning motion without looking behind her; the corpse floated several feet in the air before it was suddenly chucked straight into the water like a missile which the alligators immediately pounced their teeth in, the water instantly sullied with blood.

While his mate did not bother to look at anyone, her gaze staring off somewhere to the distance as she sheathed her sword before sauntering back to the direction she'd come from.

But when she realized all attention was now on her, she immediately slowed into a halt and turned to address the closest nymphs… that was, ironically enough, a group of naiads who lived on the same river, looking like they were going to burst into tears at the desecration of their home, their very own life source.

“Sorry for the mess,” his mate told them and oh gods, even her voice sounds so good… but one of the naiads suddenly passed out on the spot, causing her to stare blankly at the fallen nymph while the others fussed over their sister.

Somehow, Alastor could relate to that.

He almost wanted to swoon too–

Then, he realized that he really couldn't breathe… no, for real. Alastor suddenly wheezed, hacking, and coughing loudly.

Sean tried to pat Alastor’s back to get him to breathe properly. When that one did not work, Harry shoved Sean away from Alastor and began punching on his back, screaming at him to SNAP OUT OF IT–!

Desperate, Alastor tried to reach out a shaking hand towards his mate, black spots dancing around the corner of his vision. No… no wait…! Don't go.

DON’T LEAVE ME!

As though hearing his thoughts, his mate suddenly turned around… and appeared to be looking right back at him, never mind their distance, her obsidian eyes holding his for what seemed to be an eternity.

PLEASE–!

She frowned and faded into the shadows.