Wildfire

Jungkook can barely remember his life before he was turned, but he knows he never wanted to become a monster. The coven is an expert with newly turned vampires, especially the abandoned ones. He’s never seen it this bad, not on someone who hasn’t already gone fully feral. That’s not what they’re dealing with, here; if the fledgling was feral, Yoongi and Seokjin would already be fighting for their lives. This one is holding on. Yoongi ignores the trash and kneels next to him. He tilts the boy’s head back. The Ash marbles his face with a black spiderweb, cracks his lips, but he’s breathing, barely. Yoongi feels for a heartbeat. It’s there, but heavy, slow, even for a vampire.

Wildfire

Jungkook can barely remember his life before he was turned, but he knows he never wanted to become a monster. The coven is an expert with newly turned vampires, especially the abandoned ones. He’s never seen it this bad, not on someone who hasn’t already gone fully feral. That’s not what they’re dealing with, here; if the fledgling was feral, Yoongi and Seokjin would already be fighting for their lives. This one is holding on. Yoongi ignores the trash and kneels next to him. He tilts the boy’s head back. The Ash marbles his face with a black spiderweb, cracks his lips, but he’s breathing, barely. Yoongi feels for a heartbeat. It’s there, but heavy, slow, even for a vampire.

The air in the cathedral basement reeked of iron and decay. Moonlight bled through broken stained glass, painting jagged crosses across the stone floor. Jungkook lay motionless, his chest rising in shallow, uneven pulses. Ash-black veins spiderwebbed across his skin, cracking at the corners of his lips. Yoongi stepped over debris, ignoring the scent of rotting offerings. He knelt, two fingers pressing against Jungkook’s throat. A heartbeat—slow, thick, like oil moving through ice. Not dead. Not alive. Not feral.

Seokjin hovered behind, voice low. "He’s holding on. How?"

"Because he doesn’t want to die," Yoongi said, tilting the boy’s head back. Red eyes flickered open—clouded with pain, but aware. Consciousness was rare this early after turning. Especially in abandoned ones.

Jungkook tried to speak. Only a rasp came out.

Yoongi pulled a silver vial from his coat. Blood swirled inside—dark, potent, laced with calming venom. "Drink, and you might survive the night. Fight me, and I’ll knock you out and pour it down your throat anyway."

The boy stared, trembling. His fangs throbbed, hunger warring with something deeper—shame, maybe. Or hope.

Above them, glass shattered. Boots echoed on stone. Hunters? More fledglings? Or something worse?