Hybrid !

Donna Vandaryn

The sun hung low over the training grounds, its golden light filtering through the dense canopy of trees that bordered the open space. The air was crisp, tinged with the faint scent of wildflowers and damp earth. Donna sat cross-legged on the grass, her fingers brushing over the leather-bound spellbook that lay open on her lap. The book hummed faintly under her touch, as if alive, reacting to the magic within her blood. Her eyes flicked over the ancient text, her mind half-absorbed in the intricacies of the symbols.

A few feet away, Arya stood at the center of a ring of carved runes. Her face was flushed with frustration, her hands clenched at her sides. The staff member—a tall woman with sharp features and a tone as crisp as the morning air—watched her with mild disapproval.

"Arya," the woman said, her voice calm but firm, "you can't force it. You haven't awakened yet. The magic won't respond to you."

Arya's eyes blazed with indignation. "I'm not forcing it! I'm trying. Isn't that why we're here? To practice?"

The woman shook her head. "Practice is one thing. But without your awakening, the core of your power remains dormant. You'll only frustrate yourself trying to use spells beyond your reach."

Arya stomped her foot, the runes beneath her flickering faintly before dimming entirely. "This is pointless," she muttered under her breath, stepping out of the circle.

Donna glanced up, her lips curling into a faint smile. Arya's impatience reminded her of herself not long ago. She returned her attention to the book, flipping the page to reveal a new spell. The text seemed to shimmer as she read it silently: "Those who say this shall remember what they forgot."

Her breath caught. The words stirred something deep within her, an ache she hadn't realized was there. Memories tugged at the edges of her mind—fleeting, fragmented images she couldn't quite grasp. Her fingers brushed over the page, the urge to speak the spell overwhelming. She hesitated, glancing at Arya, who was pacing angrily nearby, and then at the staff member, who had turned her attention to another student practicing levitation.

The world around her seemed to still as Donna whispered the incantation under her breath. The moment the last word left her lips, a pulse of energy rippled through the air, sending a shiver down her spine. A brilliant blue light enveloped her, growing brighter and brighter until everything else vanished.

The Vision

Donna was running.

Her feet pounded against the forest floor, the sound muffled by the soft layer of fallen leaves. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, each one burning her lungs. The air was cold, biting against her skin, and the trees around her loomed tall and menacing, their branches clawing at the sky. Shadows danced in her periphery, the world around her blurred with motion.

Beside her, a massive wolf ran in perfect stride. Its silver fur gleamed under the pale light filtering through the canopy, each muscle rippling with power. Its eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine, but there was no fear—only an overwhelming sense of urgency. The wolf wasn't her enemy. It was her ally.

Ahead of them, the forest opened into a clearing. Standing in the center was Bonnie, her sister, her voice steady as she chanted an incantation. The words were sharp and rhythmic, slicing through the air like a blade. Bonnie's hands were outstretched, her fingers glowing with a soft blue light that mirrored the aura surrounding Donna.

"You can do it, Donna!" Bonnie's voice was strong, unwavering. Her gaze was locked on Donna, her expression a mixture of determination and desperation. "Focus! You have to remember!"

Donna's heart raced. The wolf let out a low growl, its head snapping toward the dark edge of the clearing. Shadows began to coalesce, forming into a figure—tall, menacing, cloaked in darkness. The figure moved with an unnatural fluidity, its presence exuding a suffocating aura of power.

"Now, Donna!" Bonnie's voice cut through the haze, sharp and urgent. "Say the words! Remember who you are!"

Donna stopped abruptly, the momentum nearly knocking her off balance. The wolf skidded to a halt beside her, its hackles raised, a deep, guttural growl rumbling from its chest. The shadows advanced, tendrils of darkness reaching for her, but she couldn't move. Her mind was blank, her voice caught in her throat.

"Donna, you have to!" Bonnie shouted, her hands glowing brighter, the spell intensifying. The ground beneath them began to tremble, cracks spidering out from the force of the magic.

The wolf turned to her, its piercing eyes locking with hers. In that moment, a flood of emotions surged through her—fear, anger, determination. And then, a single memory broke free: running through this very forest, hand in hand with Bonnie, their laughter echoing through the trees. The warmth of that memory cut through the darkness like a blade, igniting something deep within her.

She opened her mouth to speak—but before the words could form, the vision shattered.

Donna's eyes flew open, her body jolting upright as she gasped for air. The blue light that had surrounded her faded, leaving only the faint glow of the runes in the distance. Her heart pounded in her chest, the phantom sensations of the vision still clinging to her like cobwebs.

"Donna! Donna, wake up!" Arya's voice was frantic, her hands gripping Donna's shoulders as she shook her. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Donna blinked, her vision slowly coming into focus. Arya's face was inches from hers, her wide eyes filled with worry. The training grounds came back into view—the soft rustle of leaves, the distant hum of magic, the murmur of voices. It all felt surreal, like stepping out of a dream.

"Bonnie…" Donna whispered, her voice hoarse. She reached up to touch her face, half-expecting to find traces of the blue light still lingering on her skin. "I saw… Bonnie."

Arya's brow furrowed in confusion. "Bonnie? What do you mean? What did you see?"

Donna's hands trembled as she placed them on the grass, grounding herself. "I don't know. It was… a memory. Or maybe a vision. She was there, chanting a spell. And the wolf…" She trailed off, her eyes darting to the forest at the edge of the training grounds as if expecting to see the silver wolf emerge.

Arya leaned back slightly, her worry giving way to curiosity. "The wolf? Are you sure it wasn't just the spell messing with your head?"

Donna shook her head, her grip tightening on the spellbook still in her lap. "No. It wasn't just in my head. It felt real, Arya. Too real."

The staff member approached, her gaze sharp as she studied Donna. "What happened here? Did you attempt a spell?"

Donna hesitated, glancing down at the book. The page with the incantation was blank now, as if the words had vanished the moment she spoke them. "I… I just read something. It wasn't intentional."

The woman frowned but said nothing, her gaze shifting between Donna and Arya. "Be careful, Donna. Magic has a way of revealing things best left forgotten."

Donna swallowed hard, the weight of the vision settling over her. Whatever she had seen—whatever memory she had unlocked—it was only the beginning

Donna groaned as she tried to lift herself from the ground, her body still trembling from the lingering effects of the spell. The vision of Bonnie, the wolf, and the forest clung to her mind like a nightmare she couldn't shake. Her arms wobbled, her palms pressing into the cool earth. Arya knelt beside her, her voice soft but urgent.

"Donna, are you okay? Say something."

Donna opened her mouth to respond, but a wave of nausea swept over her. She gritted her teeth, willing herself to push past the haze clouding her thoughts. Then, a sharp metallic scent hit her nose—blood. Her head snapped up, her breath hitching as she froze.

There, just a few feet away, stood Bonnie.

But this wasn't the strong, commanding Bonnie she knew. This was a shell, a twisted version of her sister. Bonnie was barely upright, her body swaying as though gravity itself were trying to pull her down. Blood poured from deep gashes across her torso, staining her tattered clothes and pooling at her feet. Her left arm hung limp, the bone visibly jutting through torn skin. Her face was pale, her lips trembling as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and the other stared ahead, glazed and unfocused.

Donna's stomach lurched. She felt bile rising in her throat at the sight. The stench of blood was overwhelming, mingling with the coppery tang of sweat and something fouler—like decay creeping in too soon.

"Bonnie?" Arya's voice cracked, sharp and terrified. She shot to her feet, rushing toward their sister, her hands trembling as she reached for her. "Bonnie! What happened? What—"

Before Arya could finish, Bonnie's knees buckled. Her body collapsed forward, but Arya caught her just before she hit the ground. The impact still sent a fresh gush of blood spilling onto Arya's hands and arms, painting her in crimson. Bonnie's head lolled weakly against Arya's shoulder, her breaths shallow and wet, as though each one were being dragged from her lungs with excruciating effort.

Arya screamed for help, her voice cutting through the stillness of the training ground. "Someone, get over here! She's bleeding out!"

The staff, previously scattered around the field, rushed toward them. The nearest—a man with short-cropped hair and a glowing staff in hand—began chanting a spell under his breath. Arya, her voice choked with panic, shook Bonnie lightly.

"Bonnie, stay with me! What happened? Who did this?" she demanded, but Bonnie's lips moved soundlessly, her words lost in the blood filling her mouth.

Finally, in a voice so faint it was almost inaudible, Bonnie rasped, "Diego… help him." Her head rolled back, her eyes fluttering shut as her body went limp in Arya's arms.

"No! Bonnie, stay awake!" Arya cried, her voice cracking with desperation. Her hands hovered over Bonnie's wounds, glowing faintly green as she began to mutter a healing incantation. The magic spread slowly, the light pulsing and weaving over Bonnie's torn skin, but the blood seemed endless, gushing faster than the spell could work.

Donna scrambled to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. Her heart pounded as she stumbled toward them, her eyes wide with terror. The sight of Bonnie—the sister who had always been her protector—reduced to this broken, bleeding mess, was too much. Tears blurred her vision as she dropped to her knees beside Arya.

"Why did you do this?" Donna's voice trembled, her words barely audible over the chaos around her. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, the spellbook forgotten on the ground behind her. She leaned closer, her voice rising as anger and sorrow boiled inside her. "Why, Bonnie? Why? I'm your blood. I'm your sister. Why would you leave me? Why?"

The staff member shouted something in the background, but Donna barely heard it. Her vision tunneled, her entire world narrowing to the sight of Bonnie's bloodied body and Arya's frantic attempts to save her.

Desperation clawed at Donna's chest as she raised her hands, her fingers trembling. She muttered a spell under her breath, the words tumbling out before she could even think. Green light burst from her palms, brighter and more vibrant than Arya's. The magic flowed toward Bonnie, mixing with Arya's in a dazzling display of light and energy.

Donna's tears fell freely now, dripping onto her glowing hands as she poured everything she had into the spell. Her voice cracked as she chanted, the words shaky but determined. "You're not going to die, Bonnie. You're not leaving us. I won't let you."

Bonnie's body jerked slightly, her breath hitching as the combined magic began to take effect. The gashes on her torso knitted together slowly, though the blood continued to seep through in smaller streams. Her face, still pale and slack, seemed to regain the faintest trace of color.

Arya glanced at Donna, her face streaked with tears and blood. "Keep going! Don't stop!" she urged, her voice fierce despite her trembling hands.

Donna didn't respond. Her focus was absolute, her mind repeating the same mantra over and over: Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

The green light grew brighter, illuminating the training ground and casting eerie shadows over the onlookers. The staff member placed a hand on Donna's shoulder, whispering something about pacing herself, but she shrugged it off. She didn't care if it drained her. She didn't care if it killed her.

Bonnie let out a weak groan, her eyelids fluttering open just enough to reveal a sliver of her dark eyes. Donna's breath hitched as her sister's gaze met hers, unfocused but alive.

"Donna…" Bonnie murmured, her voice barely audible. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye before her head lolled again, her consciousness slipping away.

Donna's magic faltered, the light in her hands flickering as exhaustion began to set in. She collapsed forward, her forehead pressing against Bonnie's bloodied shoulder. "Why, Bonnie?" she whispered one last time, her voice breaking. "Why?"

Aegon Vandaryn

Aegon leaned against the cold metallic wall of the facility's break room, his arms crossed, and his sharp eyes locked on Tory. The hum of the fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, adding to the tension in the room. Tory stood across from him, her arms tightly folded, her expression a mix of frustration and reluctance. She wasn't usually this guarded, but something in her tone tonight was different.

"I don't want any part of this," she said, her voice low but firm. Her mismatched eyes—one green, one white—gleamed under the harsh light, each reflecting a unique depth of emotion. "You don't understand what you're asking me to do, Aegon. I've been involved in… things—things I regret. I've seen enough to know that what you're looking for is dangerous."

Aegon pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to her. His voice was calm but carried an edge of determination. "Tory, I wouldn't have come to you if I had any other option. You know this place better than anyone. If there's something worth finding, you'll know how to get me there."

She sighed, rubbing her temples as if to ward off a building headache. "That's the thing, Aegon. Everyone knows what's going on behind those doors is bad—worse than bad. They don't let people like me in there for a reason."

He arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "But you still know a way, don't you?"

Tory hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, she let out a sharp exhale. "I know a way, yes. But I'm not saying it's smart, or that you should even try. The room is locked tighter than anything else in this facility. I don't have clearance, but…" She bit her lip, her words hanging in the air like a challenge.

"But what?" Aegon pressed, leaning in slightly.

"But I know about the back door," Tory admitted reluctantly. "It's an old maintenance access point they never sealed off properly. If you're crazy enough to go through it, you'll end up in the vents. From there, you can get to the room you're looking for."

Aegon's lips curved into a faint smirk. "A secret way in. Why am I not surprised you know about it?"

Tory didn't return his smile. "Don't get too excited. The vents aren't exactly a walk in the park, and if you're caught…" Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. "He is not ready for this, Aegon."

Before Aegon could respond, a voice cut through the tension. "I am."

Both turned to see Attius leaning against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. His gaze was steady, his presence commanding as usual. "I can choose for myself," he added, stepping into the room.

Tory's expression tightened, her frustration clear. "You? You're not even awakened, Attius. You have no idea what you're walking into."

Attius's jaw clenched, but he didn't flinch under her scrutiny. "That's not your call to make. I've made up my mind."

Aegon interjected, his tone calm but firm. "He can speak for himself, Tory. If Attius says he's ready, then that's his decision."

Tory shook her head, exasperated. "You're both out of your minds. This isn't some game, Aegon. If he's not awakened, he's putting himself—and you—in more danger than you can imagine."

Attius stepped closer, his voice steady and unyielding. "I can handle myself, Tory."

She turned to him, her mismatched eyes flashing with anger. "Can you? Do you even know what's waiting on the other side of that door? Because I do. And I'm telling you, it's not something you can just fight your way out of."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling over them. Aegon glanced at Attius, who stood resolute, his fists clenched at his sides. Finally, Aegon broke the silence.

"We're not going into this blind," he said, his voice steady. "But we need answers, Tory. Whatever's in that room could be the key to everything—the experiments, the Pillars, the truth about hybrids. If you have a better plan, I'm all ears. But we can't just sit here and do nothing."

Tory hesitated, the conflict clear in her expression. She looked at Attius, then back at Aegon. "Fine," she said at last. "I'll show you the way. But once you're in, it's on you. I'm not getting involved beyond this."

"Deal," Aegon replied without hesitation.

Tory sighed and reached into her bag, pulling out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to Aegon, who unfolded it to reveal a crude but detailed map of the facility. She pointed to a small mark near the lower left corner. "This is the maintenance access point. It's hidden behind a storage unit in the lower levels. Once you're inside, follow the vents here." Her finger traced a line on the map. "This will take you above the room."

"And then?" Attius asked, his voice steady.

"And then you're on your own," Tory replied bluntly. "I don't know what's in there or how you'll get out if something goes wrong."

Aegon studied the map, committing the details to memory. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

Attius smirked faintly, but Tory's expression remained grim. "You're too confident for your own good, Aegon. And you," she said, turning to Attius, "you're risking more than you realize. I hope you're ready to face the consequences."

"I am," Attius said simply.

Tory shook her head, stepping back. "Just… don't die in there. Either of you."

Aegon tucked the map into his jacket, nodding once. "We'll be fine. Thanks, Tory."

She didn't respond, her gaze lingering on Attius for a moment longer before she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

As the door closed behind her, Attius exhaled, his hands relaxing at his sides. "She's worried about me," he said with a faint smirk.

Aegon gave him a sideways glance. "She's worried you'll slow me down."

Attius chuckled, shaking his head. "You're not going without me, Aegon. No matter what she says."

"I wasn't planning to," Aegon replied. He hesitated, then added, "Do we tell Enzo about this?"

Attius considered the question, his brow furrowing. "My gut says no. He'd try to stop us or make this more complicated. He's got his own things to figure out."

Aegon nodded slowly. "Agreed. He's got enough on his plate."

The two cousins shared a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together. Aegon clapped Attius on the shoulder, a small grin breaking through his serious demeanor.

"Ready to crawl through some vents?"

Attius smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Let's get this over with."

Donna Vandaryn

The sterile white walls of the hospital room were a stark contrast to the heaviness Donna felt in her chest. The rhythmic beep of the monitor was a cruel reminder that her sister, Bonnie, was alive, even though Donna wished otherwise. She sat stiffly on the vinyl chair beside Bonnie's bed, arms crossed tightly, her jaw clenched. Arya paced the room behind her, the tension between them thick.

"She's going to be fine," Arya said, breaking the silence. Her voice carried a fragile hope as she stopped near the bed, glancing at Bonnie's pale, unconscious face. The blood-stained sheets were a haunting reminder of how close she'd come to death.

"No," Donna said coldly, her gaze fixed on the tiled floor. "I hope not. I hope she dies."

Arya froze, her eyes widening as the words hit her like a slap. "No, no, don't say that!" she cried, stepping closer. "What's wrong with you? Why would you even think that?"

Donna's eyes snapped up, her voice shaking with suppressed fury. "Because it's all her fault, Arya. Everything. She's the reason I was chased by that monster that night. She kept my memory wiped, hiding something—hiding everything. And now Diego's gone, and somehow, it all leads back to her."

Arya staggered back, her voice trembling as anger and confusion mixed. "Donna, what are you saying? Bonnie wouldn't hurt us! She's our sister. She was trying to protect us."

Donna stood abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor. She pointed at Bonnie's frail form on the bed. "Protect us? By erasing my memory? By risking our lives? She knew about the creature that attacked me, Arya. She knew, and she let it happen."

Arya's hands trembled, her voice breaking. "But she said… Diego… She said his name. She told me to save him. What does that even mean, Donna? He's my brother, too, and I want him alive! I called Mom, but she said he hasn't been home. I don't know where he is, and I can't keep lying to Mom about everything!"

Donna's breath hitched at Arya's words. Her voice lowered but remained icy. "You know what? Let's ask her ourselves."

Arya blinked, startled by the sudden shift in Donna's tone. "What?"

Donna's expression hardened. "We're asking her. Now."

Without waiting for Arya's response, Donna marched to the door, pushing it open slightly to peer into the hallway. The nurses were distracted, their attention focused on an elderly patient struggling with an IV stand. Donna gestured for Arya to follow her, and the two slipped into Bonnie's hospital room undetected.

The room was dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of medical monitors. Bonnie lay on the hospital bed, her body covered in blood-stained sheets and her clothes still crusted with dried crimson. Her face was deathly pale, her breaths shallow, her once-vibrant presence now reduced to a fragile shell. The air was heavy with the antiseptic tang of a hospital, mixed with the faint metallic scent of blood.

Arya moved to Bonnie's bedside, her eyes darting to the medical file clipped to the foot of the bed. She grabbed it, flipping through the pages, her hands trembling as she read. Donna leaned over Bonnie, shaking her sister's shoulder lightly.

"Wake up," Donna demanded, her voice sharp. "You don't get to sleep through this, Bonnie. Not after everything."

Bonnie didn't stir, her body limp. Arya's voice broke the silence, filled with worry. "Donna, she's critical," she said, her eyes glued to the file. "I don't think she's going to make it. She's lost so much blood. The doctors did everything they could, but…"

Donna glanced at Arya, her anger bubbling beneath the surface. "She's a hybrid, Arya. She should be healing. Why isn't she healing?"

Arya's brow furrowed as she flipped to another page in the file. "It doesn't make sense. The books say hybrids heal fast—almost instantly. But she's not."

Before Donna could respond, Bonnie's voice broke the silence, weak and raspy. "Because… she has Diego."

Donna and Arya froze, their eyes snapping to Bonnie. Her lips barely moved as she spoke, her voice a faint whisper. "I'm sorry… I trusted her, Evelyn. But she betrayed me. I put you at risk, Donna. I'm sorry. I really am. I just… I just wanted them to be normal. I risked your life. I risked his."

Arya's voice erupted with fury, her words cutting through the room like a blade. "Shut the fuck up! Where is he? I don't care about your excuses, Bonnie. Where. Is. Diego?"

Bonnie's eyelids fluttered open, revealing bloodshot eyes that looked even weaker in the sterile light. Her lips quivered, her voice barely audible. "What… what time is it? What day?"

Arya's hands curled into fists. "We don't care about the time, Bonnie! Answer the damn question!"

Donna stepped closer, her voice colder than before. "It's April 12th. It's almost 4 p.m."

Bonnie's eyes widened in horror, a spark of life igniting in her frail body. "The full moon," she croaked, her voice trembling. "It's tonight. Evelyn… she's going to use Diego for his magic. She's going to drain him of his life to fix the twins."

Arya's breath hitched, her rage boiling over. "Where the fuck are they, Bonnie? WHERE?"

Bonnie's hand trembled as she reached out, her fingers brushing against Donna's. Donna recoiled instinctively but stopped when a sudden jolt surged through her body. Her vision blurred, the hospital room fading away as a new scene unfolded before her eyes.

The Vision

Donna stood in a dense forest bathed in moonlight, the trees casting long, eerie shadows. Ahead of her was a clearing, where Evelyn stood, her back turned. Diego knelt before her, his arms bound by glowing crimson chains, his head slumped forward. His body radiated a faint green light, his hybrid magic clearly being siphoned away.

Nearby, two figures—Magnus and Elias, the twin werewolves—lay unconscious on stone slabs. Crimson light connected them to Diego, pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat. Evelyn's voice rang out, cold and commanding.

"Just a little longer, Diego," she said, her tone devoid of empathy. "Your sacrifice will save them. It's a worthy trade."

The vision shattered, and Donna gasped, stumbling backward. Arya grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. "What did you see?" Arya demanded.

Donna's voice was shaky but resolute. "I know the route. I know where they are."

Arya's eyes burned with determination. "Then let's go. We're saving my brother."

Donna glanced at Bonnie, who had collapsed back onto the bed, her breaths shallow. "What about her?" Arya asked, her voice sharp. "She's not doing fine."

Bonnie's lips moved weakly, her words barely audible. "Tell… Enzo. He'll take care of it."

Donna hesitated, but Arya grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the door. "We don't have time to waste. Diego needs us."

With one last glance at Bonnie's fragile form, Donna followed Arya out of the room, their determination burning brighter than ever.