Paradox knew better than to interfere with things he shouldn’t be interfering with, but ever since that incident, or so to call it, where Paradox found Caravel bloodied and exhausted on a bench, Paradox couldn’t help but feel wary. A week had gone by since that event (and since they had left Byd Cyntaf), and it had been a week of painful silence between Caravel and Paradox. When Paradox tried to talk with his best friend, Caravel would simply dismiss the topic, claiming he didn’t recall clearly, but Paradox knew that Caravel remembered it—he was just refusing to tell him.

It hurt Paradox that Caravel was hiding well-kept secrets, secrets that Paradox believed he had an idea of, but was proven wrong. Caravel was such a cheery guy, always smiling, joking around, flirting with people; he was a ball of energy, but now that had dissipated. He had a shadow of quiet guilt and growing anger, easily shutting people down and out of his life ever since Lumen Lunae. It was driving Paradox mad—he hated seeing Caravel hurting, hated seeing him unrested; he wanted to help him, but Caravel kept on rejecting it.

After two weeks of Caravel coldly pushing Paradox away, Paradox had enough. Fed up by his best friend’s actions, he decided to show up to his house on a late afternoon, pounding at the door to be let in.

When Caravel answered the door, Paradox immediately said, “You fucker,” and punched him in the shoulder.

Caravel looked alarmed, barely wincing from Paradox’s punch. He looked at Paradox and said, “Para? What are you doing here—” but Paradox pushed past Caravel to be inside of his house.

Caravel closed the door and faced Paradox, arms crossed over his chest. “What are you doing here?” He reiterated.

“I’m sick of this, Caravel. You don’t answer my calls or texts or DMs—it’s been two fucking weeks. What happened that day at Lumen Lunae?” Paradox asked, searching for an answer in Caravel’s expressionless face.

“It doesn’t matter,” Caravel said, but Paradox interrupted him:

“It does matter. Look, you’re never like this. I know that. We’ve been friends for eight whole years. I know you. This isn’t you. You better say something or I’m going to make guesses.” Paradox said.

“Like what guesses?” Caravel said, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re Marked.” Paradox said dryly.

Horror flashed across Caravel’s face, hand going to his neck. “I–wha-what? You…How dare you assume—” Caravel stuttered, face going red. His blue eyes were wide and panicky, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “I just—You. You can’t…now, why would you…How the fuck…”

Paradox grounded his jaw. So he was correct. Two weeks ago when Paradox found Caravel, he noticed a bite mark between the gap of his neck and shoulder, freshly made, bloodied and bruised. Paradox wasn’t sure if Caravel was Marked—after all, he never cared to study about Lycanthropy before. But when he read that book—Lukanthrōpía—in Hayde Les, owned by Billie Darling, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was true. After Paradox had gotten home that night, he immediately went to his laptop and began searching more about Lycanthropy and werewolfism. Judging by the way Caravel didn’t say a straight-up “no” to Paradox’s claim, Paradox realized the truth.

“Caravel.” Paradox said softly, trying to calm his hyperventilating best friend. “I’m not angry.”

“It was a stupid mistake,” Caravel shot at him. “Okay? I was dumb. And young. And horny. I just—he was—I just…I-I…I wasn’t thinking, Para. He—I just…everything was so intoxicating and I got sucked in—” Caravel paused, jaw tightening as he nervously wrung his hands together. “You’re not gonna tell Mom and Dad, are you?”

Paradox shook his head. He had no intentions of telling Mr. and Mrs. Downes. Despite Mr. and Mrs. Downes being very progressive people, accepting the LGBTQIA+ community and allowing Caravel to freely be himself, and being lenient and understanding, both Mr. and Mrs. Downes had vocally expressed their hatred of the Lycan World and the Lycans and Hybrids from within.

“You-you promise?” Caravel said weakly, blue eyes pleading.

“I promise.” Paradox said. “But tell me. How and why and who and where and when.”

Caravel groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine. I’ll tell you. Let’s just head upstairs.”

Once they headed upstairs, Caravel locked his bedroom door and closed his window. Paradox gave Caravel a look, but Caravel said, “For caution,” and then sat on his bed. Paradox sat on the red beanbag Caravel had pushed aside, and after Paradox sat down, he said, “Okay. Tell me.”

Caravel sighed and said, “Well, it’s gonna be awhile, you sure—”

“Tell me.” Paradox insisted.

Caravel bit his lower lip then nodded.

#####

It was two years ago, that summer before we entered sophomore year. Much like this year, it was hot and humid. You were out of town; your parents were taking you to LA to visit your aunt and uncle. My parents happened to be out of town, too. They were attending my mom’s great-aunt’s funeral. I didn’t know who she was, barely knew her name, and had no connections to her, so after convincing my parents to go without me, I had the house to myself.

I got bored fast. I wanted to do something interactive but with you out of town and my sports on hold for summer vacation, I decided to surf through the internet and then stumbled upon a website I never heard of or seen before. The website was called Lussuria Celeste. I thought perhaps it was a porn website or a hentai/yaoi website. It wasn’t. Well, not necessarily. It was actually a dark web for anyone who was interested in the Lycan World—Byd Cyntaf.

Of course, I’m naturally a curious person so I decided to investigate the website. From selling human sex slaves to selling illicit drugs; from a late night hookup with either Lycan or Hybrid to having forbidden fun in the Lycan World. It had a map, too, of all of the entrances to Byd Cyntaf. After all, it’s really hard to “accidentally” enter Byd Cyntaf without intentional purposes.

That’s how I found Lumen Lunae. I heard of it—everyone’s heard of it. It’s one of the very, very few (and by few, I mean one out of two) entrances that is opened to the public. I was surprised by how close Lumen Lunae was to Maes Chwarae’r Diafol, about a twenty minute drive, so I decided to go. I wasn’t really thinking rationally—logically. I was bored and wanted to have some fun, even if it meant that fun was frowned upon by the majority of our society.

I hitched a ride from Gladys Rynte. He and his girl were heading to Queens to visit Gladys’ girl’s parents. I said I needed a ride and just like that, I was able to get on. I got off at Cypress Hills Cemetery and then went to Mae West’s gravesite because, according to the map on Lussuria Celeste, behind her grave was an “entrance” to the entrance of Byd Cyntaf. And there was. And two weeks ago, I took you there, too. You saw it.

After entering that “entrance”, I was suddenly in a different area, you know? There were abandoned train tracks, the ones we walked by two weeks ago. As I continued walking (while following my phone's GPS), I noticed that there was a forest, and the GPS told me to go through. I went through, eventually found the entrance that led to Lumen Lunae and voila. I was in.

I was shocked by how lively everything looked: the carnival music, the smell of popcorn, the sound of laughter—it seemed…normal. But it wasn’t. Lycans were roaming, Hybrids were at the games and rides; there were few humans, but of the few, many were by a Lycan or Hybrid’s side. I didn’t get it then. I wouldn’t come to realize just a few hours later.

It was fun, not gonna lie. The Hybrids were pretty easy-going and I didn’t bother to go near the Lycans. But things took a turn when I entered Seicopathig, the circus run by Jehovah Springfield. When I entered, the show was just about to start. Jehovah, of course, said his opening lines: “Gather 'round, young and old. Boy or girl. Whore or hoe. Everyone's welcomed, friend or foe. You've been invited to a show. Sit down and strap down, don't get so turned on. After all, you'll stay till sundown. Welcome to Seicopathig.” I was fascinated by everything: the lights, the music, the sounds, the atmosphere—it was enticing.

Then, I saw him. As cliché as it sounds, it’s true. I saw him on stage, shirtless; performing some cartwheels and jumps and spins and all sorts of stuff. He moved like water across the stage, leaving me breathless and lightheaded. I couldn’t stop staring at him…and apparently he noticed.

At the end of the show, I didn’t leave right away. I decided to linger behind. And that was when he approached me.

His eyes were stunning, a very deep rich purple. He had a charming, taunting smile and he held himself proud. He eyed me, slowly, eyes lingering over my body, and when he spoke, it was like velvet: “Hey there, human. Who might you be?”

I know I shouldn’t have said my name, I know that I shouldn’t have been so thoughtless, but I couldn’t think straight. “Caravel.”

“Caravel?” the Hybrid hummed. “Beautiful name for a beautiful boy.”

This took me by surprise. I wasn’t used to guys flirting with me, or hitting on me. Usually I flirted with guys and waited for them to respond. Because I was so surprised, I didn’t say anything, just stared at him. He laughed and said, “I’m Hookclaw. Pratch Hookclaw.” He bowed in a mocking formal way, his purple eyes never leaving mine.

I knew that I had already fallen for this Hybrid, and I knew that I was fucked.

I kept on coming back, pretty much every day just to see Pratch perform at Seicopathig. I would always stay behind just to have a small chat with him, a small conversation, a small one-on-one just to get to know him better.

Then things went sideways fast.

After the fourteenth time of me visiting, Pratch pulled me aside after the show was over. He said, “Why you keep comin’ here, huh? Ain’t safe for an attractive human boy like you to wander in Lumen Lunae constantly.” Pratch scowled at me.

“I just want to see you,” I said, without thinking.

Pratch’s purple eyes darkened and he leaned real close to me, so close we were nose to nose.

“I’m a Hybrid.” He said in a low voice.

“I know.” I said.

“You’s a human.” He pointed out.

“I know.” I replied.

“Donchu know I can hurt you real good? Ain’t safe for you to fuck around.” Pratch hissed, lifting my chin with his knuckle.

“What if…I want you to hurt me?” I said, trying to ignore my pounding heart, ignore my screaming thoughts of what was right and wrong. I knew I shouldn’t be messing with a Hybrid, with a crossbred, with someone who was physically and mentally stronger than I was, but I had to know what it was like to have a taste of prohibited love.

Then his lips were against mine, crushing our mouths together. His kiss was hot and demanding, tongue rough in my mouth; I had kissed a few people before, but it was nothing like this. His kiss made me feel weak, made me feel vulnerable; I was scared but so hungry for more.

One of his hands was fisting my hair while the other held the small of my back, pulling me up against him. Instinctively I pulled him closer with my arms; he then lifted me up, pulling my legs around his hips, and I held onto him. He carried me to the back of Seicopathig where he set me roughly on a couch. He was already shirtless so he began trying to undress me.

I let him. I don’t know why. The air around me was hot on my bare skin; I was burning up and the air was not cooling me down. Pratch was then on top of me, kissing me with brutal force, and I let his fingers in me, let his mouth find my neck, let him slam inside of me, let him bite me—

I lost my virginity that day to a Hybrid. And I was Marked that day to a Hybrid.

#####

Caravel had his face in his hands. “I fucked up, Para. I didn’t…I was…I’m so goddamn stupid. Do you—do you hate me?”

Paradox stood up from the red beanbag and went to Caravel to hug him. “I could never hate you, Caravel. I’m sorry. That’s rough. Do you—do you like him even? Like, now? I just…but…you’ve slept with other people before. How does it—”

Caravel gave off a short laugh. “Oh yeah, it’s rough, and unfortunately, yeah, I still do like him. He’s great at fucking. Numbs my mind. But we—I…we’re not—it’s not a Bind. I’m just Marked. It can be erased if an Alpha Marks me or if he doesn’t reMark it two years from now. But in the meantime, Pratch owns me.” Caravel shrugged. “Stupid, huh?”

Paradox shook his head. “It’s…” He struggled to find the right words. “Um. S-so. Do you have anything you want to do?” Paradox flinched, realizing that his choice of words made it seem like he didn’t care for Caravel.

Thankfully, Caravel didn’t misunderstand. “Well, to be honest, there is a place I’d love to go tonight, but after hearing what I said, I doubt you’d go.”

Paradox looked at Caravel and said, “Why are you doing this?”

Caravel shrugged. “Beats me. But hey, how does a Lycan strip club sound like? Hm? We can go tonight at nine.”

Paradox was no longer sure if he should even pity Caravel if he kept on making irrational decisions. “I don’t think it’s a good idea…” He said.

“Well, I’m going. I’ll send you the address. Your choice whether you go or not.”