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WHAT HIDES IN THE SHADOWS

💕Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

📝Summary:

"What hides in the shadows will let you see who you really are."

Protected by your family and the Guardians your whole life, you come across the creatures you have been sheltered from and your whole world loses its balance.

The truth of the Oath reveals itself as you walk your path through the shadows and start questioning all that has been taught to you since your childhood. Those who co-exist between both sides would be considered traitors by the humans, but if the Vampires were so bad, why did they allow the Guardians to exist? Why didn’t they overpower the entire human population after The Shadow Nights?

As you get into the depths of both the Guardians' and the Vampires' worlds the pieces fall in place and you discover secrets that have been hidden to the civilians like you. Secrets that will make you question the whole sense of your existence. Eventually bringing calamities upon your kin.

✏️Genre/au: Vampires, Alternative universe (Future of humanity), Sci-fi, Horror, Romance, Action, Vampires vs. Hunters

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

⚠️Work warnings: angst, gore and blood, hierarchy, sire bond (implicit: dominance and obedience), alternative relationships (multi-partner relationships: polyamory, poligamia, etc), love triangles, toxic relationships, unhealthy relationships, rivalry, explicit smut, jealousy, ownership, manipulation. Be aware of each episode's warnings.

Hii! Did you stumble a cross this work? Glad yo're here 😊

This work has multiple chapters and I should be posting on the first and third monday of each month until its closure (depending on demand). Please, bare with me 💜

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

Thanks to @moonleeai for helping me with the summary 💜

Chapter 1: AWAKENING

Chapter 2: METAMORPHOSE I

Chapter 3: WISE IMMORTALITY

Chapter 4 : VERSUS I

Chapter 5: VERSUS II

Chapter 6: VERSUS III

Chapter 7: INFERENCE

Chapter 8:

Chapter 9:

Chapter 10:

Chapter 11:

Chapter 12:

Chapter 13:

Chapter 14:

Chapter 15:

Chapter 16:

Chapter 17:

Chapter 18:

Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

EPILOGUE

t h e f a ll WIP

Some days were better than others, a lightness to her, Lizzie felt— she hoped— but there was a vulnerability there too, far more than she was used to. The kind that felt like last words: a sickening profession, an acceptance of death and erasure. It made her unrecognisable— this girl, the saviour. Her hero. Who was Hope if not her secrets? Who would she be if the dead weren’t the only people who truly knew her? Lizzie found herself fearing the answer— no matter how the vagueness frustrated her, no matter how many nights Hope woke up from terrors she wouldn’t speak of, no matter the years Hope stayed silent about— wouldn’t breach for even the sake of a happy memory.  A Hope who was honest meant a Hope who was dead. 

It was nearly freezing that night, the type that claimed children in their bassinets if the window was left cracked. That stopped sweet blooms in their tracks, drying them out and killing them before they ever truly got to grow. 

She sneezed almost as soon as she entered the room, a burning tingle spreading from her nose and into her cheeks at the abrupt temperature change. Erratic and spontaneous, each window cracked against the side of the building, spurred by the harsh, whistling breeze. It rolled and thrashed through her room, tangling and tossing loose pillows and throw blankets from both the beds and the chairs. Papers fluttered about, forcefully thrown this way and that. Trinkets crashed and rolled off the tables, glass cracking and scattering across the floor.

Lizzie winced as air sliced through her eyes, frigid shards and gusts pushing against her clothes and hair, beating her back through the threshold of the door. Bending her knees and angling her feet, she stood her ground, spluttering and gagging as she pulled hair out of her mouth and waved her other hand in the air. The windows shut with a loud slam, silence and stillness rushing over the room in one fell swoop. Sketches and marked Polaroids curved and sailed to the floor in wide billows, joining the mess.

She ran her hands through her hair with trembling fingers, pushing the strands back behind her ears before she wrapped her arms around herself. They brushed her sweater in an up and down motion, trying to offset the growing shivers before they could really set in. 

“Hope?” she called, glancing around the room.

In the centre of her bed was a mound of blankets, utterly still through it all. Lizzie rounded the room cautiously, a flutter of fear building up in her chest. Her throat bobbed with a thick swallow, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Hope, I know you hear me.” Still no movement. She carefully avoided the papers and marbles, picking up a Polaroid of the Super Squad and placing it gently on the side table as she stepped around her bed. Lizzie gently curved her hands around the edge of the duvet where a crown of auburn hair peeked out, more brown in its oily and stringy state. 

She carefully pushed the cover down, startled when she saw Hope’s drooped eyes staring directly at her. Hope made no movements, no acts of acknowledgment— simply laid there and breathed slowly. Lizzie felt tears spring to her eyes immediately, shockingly, she might add. A certain acute sense of distress had flooded her system, unsettling her just as much as Hope’s condition.

A shaky smile lifted her lips as she knelt down low in front of her best friend, reaching out and finding her hand in the swaddle of fabric. The skin was icy in her grasp but Lizzie didn’t let go. “Hey,” she whispered, pulling the covers down further to reveal more of her body. 

Hope’s voice was empty, and yet trembled with the essence of fear, of melancholy. “I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“‘He’s dying. He’s dying. He’s dying.’ I kept hearing it. They told me. But I couldn’t stop it.” Hope’s eyes drifted away, glossing over with whatever she saw in her mind. “I knew, Lizzie. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I couldn’t even bring him back and now—” she swallowed thickly, shaking her head. Her hand slipped from Lizzie’s grasp, clutching at the duvet to bring it back around her neck, “now he’s just out there.”

Lizzie dipped her head to catch her sight, tucking her in deeper before finding her hands again beneath the covers. “Hey, hey— no. He’s at peace, Hope. I know he is.”

“He can’t be. I-I had to leave him there. Now he’s— he can’t make it back. He’s lost, I feel it. He won’t be able to rest, Lizzie, don’t you know that?”

She squeezed her hands together, rubbing them as she chanted into the small space they left when the sides unevenly matched. The flesh began to glow an unnatural colour, expanding into a ball of light she spread and smoothed over the silhouette of Hope’s body. A little shiver escaped from her before she stilled once again, eyes drifting shut and breaths growing deeper. Lizzie pressed the last of the fading heat to her forehead, pursing her lips into a small frown.

A memory was called to the front of Lizzie’s mind. One that she pushed to the furthest recesses whenever it dared to creep up, always catching her when the world eased and her attention began to wander, or on one of those light days, whenever she dared to hope things might get better. 

Two weeks before: when Malivore’s interference had given way, Hope’s darkened blood reanimating and swarming together on the map. That should have been her first sign— they were always so focused on how Hope could defeat Malivore they didn’t see they cancelled each other out. 42 hours she’d been in his presence, his entity still stretching wide like he was still a goopy parallel dimension rather than a walking man. She’d been caught in it somewhere, her blood circling around the perimeter and trying to breach it in every locator spell they’d done, unable to find its source. 

Heavily sedated, she was in an ambulance on the way to Whitmore Hospital. The paramedics who’d escorted her were haggard and concerned, described her to be in a state of mania which they thought was induced by stress and shock, fuelling her desperation to get away from them. “It’s likely she’s not even lucid right now. Probably won’t remember any of it when she wakes up.”

Any accounts of her movements before then were choppy, Hope wouldn’t speak of it herself, and the people who’d called the ambulance stated that she’d knocked on their door and begged for help. 

She remembers MG reaching out towards Hope, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing while he told her everything would be alright. His face was twisted into a frown, the shadow of his stubble grown darker in her absence. He’d jerked away a moment later, disoriented. 

Flashes of train cars and blood and chains and Malivore’s new face, he’d told her. Hope’s mind was fragmented, split into different trains of thought with her voice speaking in the background. Whether it was from a disjointed memory or her subconscious, he couldn’t tell. “He’s dying, he’s dying, he’s dying.”

Empty. 

Not a trace of anything but pheromones when they’d found the abandoned train car. The scent of it was so thick Jed had nearly thrown up. Hope and Landon’s fear, anger, death. He was followed by Brutus who left quickly, the essence of danger in the area triggering his wolf and his fear instincts. 

Rafael had sent them in his stead, forced to stay in his dorm by Alaric. Her father didn’t curse in her presence very often, never allowed his fear to show too much, but when Raf’s nose began to bleed and his fingers trembled with spreading desiccation, his facade had cracked to pieces. He’d only seen this in his earlier years, he’d said— unable to lie or cover the truth of something so serious— when he had helped kill one of Hope’s uncles. An Original. An hour or so later, every vampire from his bloodline was dead, dropped to the ground with similar symptoms to Rafael. 

But they didn’t come back like Raf did.

The blood magic struck him several times, restricting him to the bed as his limbs seized and arrested. It never reached his heart, stopped and started in intervals until he’d been so weak he nearly begged them to kill him for good. 

She’d been dying, her father theorised. Over and over, seconds— minutes at a time. The reason for it was obvious when they’d found her, reddening impressions in her skin in the shape of chains. A thin stream of blood from wide puncture holes that were surrounded by rash-like welts and boils, smelling like wolfsbane. She must’ve been so weak, her frail heart faltering in its thready pulse, only to be kick started moments later by the healing of her vampire side. 

Hope woke up seconds after MG had touched her, eyes bloodshot and frantic. She grabbed his hands, begged him to help her, told him she had to go back — that they’d left him. 

“There was no one there, Hope.”

“No, MG, please— you know— MG.” His name trembled from her lips, helpless and imploring. 

She didn’t speak much afterwards, but when she did, she repeated along the same lines. 

Landon won’t be able to rest.

We have to get him back.

He’s out there, alone. 

He can’t rest, don’t you get it?!

Landon’s lost. He’s lost.

It suddenly clicked for Lizzie then, for reasons she’s still unsure of now. 

Hope had taught Lizzie about her heritage and the magic of her home during those flittering seasons. Built on Ancestral Magic, but recently converted to Earth Magic when their Well was destroyed, however the former was still threaded throughout all their ceremonies and practices. 

She’s a New Orleans Quarter Witch at her core, and they’d been taught to lay their dead to rest and consecrate them so that their energy would be returned to the earth. Lizzie had learned from Henry that the Crescent wolves did something similar— put bodies on boats and sent them into the bayou burning. 

Hope had done it for her parents, for her great-grandmother and uncle, for Henry. Every one she’d known had a funeral of some sort. But Landon…. Landon was still lost. Up until now everyone thought she’d just meant physically, but to her… his spirit was gone. 

Wandering in purgatory, in a perpetual state of confusion and loneliness. 

She thought it was her fault. “Oh, Hope.”