NOTE: don't forget to join my Patreon.com/Argonaut007 to get access up to 10+ Advance chapters.
------
The road leading to Beacon Hills stretched quietly ahead, winding through the forest like an unbothered path untouched by the chaos that had unfolded just hours earlier.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Arthur Corvinus walked along the dirt trail with his hands tucked into his pockets, occasionally kicking small stones out of his way as he moved forward.
Each step crunched softly against gravel and fallen leaves, the sound oddly loud in the stillness around him. Sunlight filtered gently through the canopy above, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the path.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been calming.
But not today.
Not for him.
"Alright… think," Arthur muttered under his breath, trying to organize the mess of thoughts inside his head.
"Step one: I'm a reincarnated guy stuck inside a supernatural TV series."
He kicked a stone harder this time, watching it bounce ahead of him.
"Step two: I somehow survived the Hale fire, which already puts me way above the survival rate of background characters."
He let out a slow breath.
"Step three: I'm now running errands for an Alpha werewolf who just survived an assassination attempt."
He paused for a moment, then sighed deeply.
"Yep… my life is officially insane."
Still, as ridiculous as his situation sounded, there was one advantage he couldn't ignore.
Knowledge.
He knew how things were supposed to happen.
Or at least… how they used to happen.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck as he continued walking.
"Although the timeline is already messed up…"
The biggest difference was impossible to ignore.
Talia Hale.
Alive.
In the original story, she had died in the fire, leaving the Hale pack shattered and vulnerable. That single event had triggered a chain reaction that shaped everything that came after.
But now?
She survived.
Arthur kicked another stone off the path, watching it disappear into the underbrush.
"That alone changes everything," he murmured.
If Talia remained the Alpha, then Peter's rise might never happen. Laura's fate could change. Even Scott's future as a True Alpha might shift in ways Arthur couldn't predict.
And that wasn't even considering the fact that Laura herself had already shown signs of becoming something more—something rare.
"Great," Arthur muttered dryly.
"My future knowledge is slowly turning into useless trivia."
He walked in silence for a while after that, letting the weight of that realization settle.
After another ten minutes, the forest began to thin. The dense trees gradually gave way to open space, and the familiar outline of a small town appeared in the distance.
Beacon Hills.
Arthur slowed slightly as he looked at it, crossing his arms as if evaluating something far more dangerous than it appeared.
"Well…" he said under his breath.
"There it is."
From a distance, the town looked completely normal. Quiet streets. Modest buildings. A peaceful suburban setting that gave no hint of what lurked beneath the surface.
But Arthur knew better.
This wasn't just any town.
This was a magnet for chaos.
A place where supernatural creatures didn't just exist—they collided.
"Werewolves tearing through the woods under the full moon," he muttered. "Hunters lurking in the shadows with enough weapons to start a small war. Banshees screaming about death before it happens… and a literal trickster spirit that can possess people and turn them into walking disasters."
He shook his head slowly.
"Seriously… how is this place not on national news?"
With a final glance at the treeline behind him, Arthur stepped onto the paved road and entered the town.
Life continued as if nothing had happened.
Cars passed by at a normal pace. People walked along sidewalks, chatting casually, sipping coffee, completely unaware that a massacre had taken place just outside their peaceful little town.
Arthur scratched his head as he observed them.
"That's honestly impressive," he admitted.
Either the town was incredibly good at ignoring things…
Or it was used to it.
He followed the main road, occasionally glancing around as he walked, until a familiar building came into view.
A small veterinary clinic stood quietly along the street.
The sign outside read:
Beacon Hills Animal Clinic
Arthur stopped in front of it, staring for a moment.
"Well," he said.
"This is it."
Inside that building worked a man who wasn't just a veterinarian.
He was something more.
The emissary of the Hale pack.
A druid who maintained the balance between the supernatural and the human world in Beacon Hills.
Arthur took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Alright," he muttered.
"Let's meet the wizard vet."
He pushed the door open.
A small bell chimed overhead, the soft sound echoing lightly through the clinic.
Inside, the air carried a mix of antiseptic and animal fur. The space was clean, organized, and quiet. Several cages lined the walls, holding recovering animals that shifted slightly at the sound of the door.
Behind the front desk stood a man in a veterinarian's coat.
Calm.
Composed.
Observant.
He looked up the moment Arthur entered.
And in that instant—
Something changed.
His eyes sharpened.
Arthur noticed it immediately.
Yeah… he knows something's off.
The man walked toward him with measured steps, his posture relaxed but his attention fully focused.
"You're not here for an animal," he said.
Arthur blinked, caught slightly off guard.
"Well… that was fast," he replied.
The man stopped in front of him, his gaze steady.
"You smell like smoke."
Arthur let out a quiet sigh.
"Yeah," he said. "That tends to happen when your house burns down."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Hale territory," he said.
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Wow," he muttered. "Supernatural Sherlock Holmes."
The man didn't react to the comment.
"Where is the Alpha?" he asked.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.
"In the forest," he answered. "Recovering."
The man went very still.
"Recovering…?" he repeated.
Arthur nodded slowly.
"Hunters attacked the Hale house last night," he explained. "They used wolfsbane smoke to weaken her… and some kind of barrier to trap them inside. She barely made it out."
Silence filled the clinic.
The temperature seemed to drop slightly as the weight of those words settled.
"…Argents," the man said quietly.
Arthur gave a small nod.
"Yep. That's them."
The man turned away, walking toward a shelf lined with jars of herbs, powders, and other materials that looked far from ordinary.
"They broke the code," he said, his voice calm but edged with restrained anger.
Arthur leaned casually against the counter.
"That seems to be a trend lately," he said.
The man carefully selected a small wooden box from the shelf, closing it with deliberate precision before turning back.
"My name is Alan Deaton," he said.
Arthur raised a hand in greeting.
"Arthur Corvinus."
Deaton studied him closely.
"You're human."
Arthur nodded.
"Last time I checked."
Deaton frowned slightly.
"Then why are you with the Hale pack?"
Arthur shrugged.
"Long story."
Deaton's gaze sharpened.
"And yet you survived a werewolf pack massacre."
Arthur winced.
"When you say it like that, it sounds way more suspicious than it actually is," he said quickly. "I'm not the only human who survived, okay?"
Deaton didn't respond.
Instead, he stepped closer.
"You also smell like mountain ash."
Arthur froze.
Oh crap.
Deaton's eyes narrowed.
"Humans do not normally carry the scent of supernatural barriers."
Arthur raised both hands quickly.
"Okay, before this turns into an interrogation," he said, "I'm just the messenger."
Deaton remained silent.
Arthur exhaled slowly.
"The Hale Alpha asked me to find you," he said.
That changed things.
Slightly.
"How is her condition?" Deaton asked.
Arthur hesitated for a moment.
"Barely standing," he admitted. "She's still strong… but whatever they used hit her hard."
For the first time, Deaton's calm expression cracked—not with panic, but with urgency.
"That is not good," he said.
Arthur tilted his head.
"Really? Because from where I was standing, she looked like she was running on pure stubbornness."
Deaton was already moving, grabbing his coat without another word.
"Then we do not have time to waste," he said.
Arthur blinked.
"Oh," he muttered. "We're leaving already?"
Deaton nodded.
"Yes."
Arthur let out an exaggerated sigh as he followed.
"Of course," he said. "Why wouldn't my day get even more dangerous?"
Deaton paused briefly beside him.
"You are not obligated to come."
Arthur glanced toward the forest beyond the town.
Toward the Hale survivors.
He sighed again.
"Yeah… I figured that."
But he kept walking.
"Well then," he said, stretching his arms slightly as they stepped outside.
"Let's go save a werewolf Alpha."
Behind him, Deaton locked the clinic door before joining him.
Together, they headed back toward the forest.
Unaware—
That high above, on a nearby rooftop—
A pair of binoculars tracked their every movement.
A blonde woman lowered them slowly, her lips curling into a satisfied smile.
Kate Argent raised a radio to her lips.
"Well, well…" she murmured.
"Looks like the druid is involved now."
Her finger tapped lightly against the trigger of her rifle.
Her eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"This hunt just got a lot more interesting."