Chapter 1: The Gleam of Madness
The Neon Woods had always been alive, glowing with an unnatural shimmer that kept its creatures both enchanted and unsettled. Crystals sprouted like weeds between tangled roots, humming with a low vibration as though the forest itself was breathing. But deeper within the heart of this place, where even the bravest dared not wander, lived the fox they called Jasper.
No one ever spoke his name aloud unless they wanted their luck to rot. To most, he was a myth, a warning whispered into the ears of reckless cubs who thought themselves invincible. But the myth was real. And the fox was far worse than the stories.
Jasper was not like others of his kind. His fur burned like embered fire, his eyes glowed too brightly, and that ever-present grin twisted his handsome face into something unnerving. He wore brass goggles on his head—always polished, always gleaming—but no one knew why. Some said they were trophies stolen from a fallen traveler. Others swore they were enchanted, protecting him from visions that would drive any ordinary soul to madness.
But Jasper didn’t need visions to be mad. Madness was stitched into him like thread in cloth.
The forest feared him because Jasper laughed when others cried, because he found beauty in ruin, because he toyed with prey instead of eating them, letting them run only to hunt them again. He collected shiny things—crystals, trinkets, blades—anything that glittered with unnatural light. But above all, he loved crystals.
Ah, crystals.
He could stare into them for hours, tracing the fractured rainbows that danced inside. Each shard whispered to him, speaking in languages no one else could hear. Sometimes they begged him to free them. Other times they screamed. Jasper would tilt his head, listening, humming to himself while scratching nonsense symbols into bark with his claws.
“Beautiful voices,” he muttered one night, pressing a shard of prism stone close to his eye. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you. I’ll find all of you.”
The Neon Woods held one legend older than even Jasper’s name: the Prism Crystal. Unlike the smaller shards scattered throughout the forest, this one was said to be whole, a massive jewel forged from the heart of the earth. Whoever held it, the stories said, could bend reality itself. Some claimed it granted clarity of mind. Others believed it granted power over life and death.
For Jasper, it promised one thing only: silence.
In his darkest moments, when the whispers grew unbearable and laughter spilled out of him uncontrollably, he dreamed of holding the Prism Crystal and quieting the noise. No more fractured voices. No more broken thoughts. No more psycho Jasper. Just Jasper.
But dreams were slippery things, and he knew better than to trust them. So he laughed instead, letting madness curl around him like smoke.
That night, the fox stood atop a jagged rock where the forest floor was littered with bones—some animal, some not. The moonlight bled across his fur, and his goggles reflected the glow of the nearby crystals. In one paw he held a jagged dagger carved from amethyst, and in the other, a chain of golden charms that jingled as he moved.
“Good evening, darlings,” Jasper greeted the trees, his voice lilting like a tune. “Did you miss me?”
The forest did not answer, but Jasper laughed anyway, high and sharp, until it echoed between the trunks. He danced a little, hopping from one paw to another, the dagger flashing like lightning.
“They think I’m insane,” he whispered to the charm chain. “But you know better, don’t you? I’m not insane. I’m awake. And they—” he swung the chain so it clinked like bells— “they’re all dreaming.”
A rustle caught his ear. Jasper froze, his ears twitching toward the sound. Someone dared to wander this deep. Slowly, deliberately, the fox’s grin widened.
“Company?” he sang softly. “How rude of me, I didn’t bring tea.”
He leapt from the rock, silent as shadow, weaving through the glowing brush until he spotted movement ahead. A deer, trembling, its antlers tangled in vines. Its eyes rolled with terror as Jasper emerged from the dark, his grin sharp, his dagger glinting.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Jasper cooed, tilting his head. “Caught in a web you can’t escape. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”
The deer stilled, its breath coming in frantic bursts. Jasper approached slowly, savoring each moment, letting the creature feel the weight of his gaze. He reached out, claws brushing the vines—then with a flick of his dagger, he sliced the bindings loose.
The deer bolted.
Jasper laughed until he doubled over, clutching his stomach, his voice cracking with delight. “Run, run, run! Oh, I do love this part.”
He didn’t chase it. Not tonight. The thrill was enough.
As the echoes of his laughter faded, Jasper sank onto a stump, twirling the dagger in his paw. His gaze drifted upward, past the crystal glow, past the leaves, to the stars burning cold and distant. For a brief moment, the grin slipped.
“Silence,” he whispered, clutching the dagger tight. “That’s all I want. Just silence.”
The forest whispered back, voices only he could hear. Jasper closed his eyes, goggles catching moonlight, and let the madness lull him to sleep.
Far away, in another part of the woods, a bunny with velvet ears and a heart too gentle for the world stirred in her burrow. She didn’t yet know that her life was about to entwine with his. Nor that her kindness would awaken something inside the fox that was far more dangerous than madness.
Love.
Chapter 2: The Bunny with Velvet Ears
Morning in the Neon Woods was not like morning anywhere else. The light here was fractured, filtered through the prisms of a thousand crystals scattered across the ground and growing like veins from the trees. Sunbeams split into rainbows that danced on mossy bark and shimmered across the mist. For most creatures, it was a beautiful sight. For Jasper, it was blinding.
He sat slouched against a boulder, goggles tilted down to shield his eyes, muttering curses at the sun. His paws toyed with a shard of quartz, tapping it against his teeth like a musician searching for the right note.
“Too bright,” he complained to no one in particular. “Always too bright. Do they want me blind as well as mad?”
The shard clinked. The fox giggled.
But elsewhere, another pair of eyes blinked open. Soft, gentle, and curious, Lily Bunny stirred from her burrow. Her ears twitched, catching the faint hum of the crystals that dotted the meadow outside. She had always been fascinated by their glow, though her family had warned her never to wander too far. The Neon Woods, they said, belonged to dangerous things.
Lily, however, was not so easily frightened.
She brushed the soil from her fur and stepped into the dappled light. The air was crisp, cool against her whiskers. She carried nothing but a small pouch of herbs tied to her waist, for she often gathered plants that healed. Today, though, something tugged at her heart. A strange pull, like invisible paws guiding her deeper into the forest than ever before.
It was against her better judgment, but Lily trusted her instincts.
The sound reached her first. Laughter. Not joyous, not simple, but fractured. It rose and fell, sharp and unsettling, echoing like cracked glass. Her heart skipped. Her family had spoken of this. The fox. The mad one. The psycho.
She should have turned back. Every nerve in her body begged her to. But Lily took another step.
And there he was.
Jasper sat in a clearing, hunched over like a child with a toy. The goggles gleamed on his head, catching the fractured sunbeams. His tail swished lazily, his grin wide, his eyes alive with a fevered light. He spun the crystal shard between his paws, giggling as though it whispered secrets to him.
Lily froze. He was everything the stories had painted and more. Beautiful and terrifying, dangerous and magnetic. She knew one wrong move could make her his next game. Yet, instead of fear, she felt something else.
Pity.
Because beneath the manic laughter, she saw loneliness.
Jasper’s ears twitched. In an instant, his head snapped toward her. The shard slipped into his paw like a dagger, his grin sharpening.
“Well, well,” he purred, his voice carrying a melody of menace. “What do we have here? Breakfast delivered straight to me. How thoughtful.”
Lily’s paws trembled, but she lifted her chin. “I’m not here to run,” she said softly.
That caught him off guard. The fox tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Not here to run? Oh, darling, everyone runs. That’s the fun. Don’t you want to play the game?”
“I don’t play games with lives,” Lily replied, her voice steady though her heart thundered. “And I don’t think you really want me to.”
Jasper blinked. Silence stretched between them, rare and heavy. Then he laughed—short, sharp, incredulous. “You’re either brave or very stupid, little bunny. Do you not know who I am?”
“They call you Jasper,” she said. “They call you mad. But names don’t scare me.”
He rose to his full height, looming over her. His grin returned, sly and cruel. “And what shall I call you before I… decide what to do with you?”
“Lily,” she answered. “Lily Bunny.”
The name rolled from her lips like a melody. Jasper repeated it, savoring it as though it were candy on his tongue. “Lily,” he murmured. Then louder, “Lily Bunny. How sweet. How ridiculous. How… curious.”
He circled her slowly, eyes glittering, tail flicking. “You should be trembling. You should be running. You should be begging me not to end you. But here you stand, staring at me with those wide, honest eyes.” He paused behind her, close enough for his breath to stir her fur. “Tell me, Lily Bunny. Don’t you fear death?”
“I fear cruelty more,” she said, turning to face him. “And you’re not cruel. Not really.”
Something flickered in his eyes. For a moment, the manic grin faltered. “Not cruel?” he echoed, his voice strained, as though the words were foreign.
Lily nodded. “You’re hurting. You hide it with laughter, with tricks, with fear. But you’re hurting, Jasper. And no one deserves to be alone in that pain.”
The forest seemed to still. Even the crystals’ hum quieted.
Jasper stepped back, blinking at her as though she had struck him. Then, slowly, his grin returned—but softer this time, unsure. He tilted his head, studying her as though she were some rare specimen.
“You’re madder than I am,” he said finally, but his voice lacked venom.
“Then maybe,” Lily replied gently, “we’re both in good company.”
Jasper laughed again, but it wasn’t sharp or cruel. It was something else. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Intrigue.
He sheathed the shard back into his pouch and lowered himself to the ground, stretching lazily like a cat. “Very well, Lily Bunny. You live… for now. You amuse me, and that’s no small feat.” He flashed her a grin, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Stay, if you dare. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. The closer you get to me, the more dangerous the game becomes.”
Lily’s ears twitched. She sat down across from him, folding her paws neatly. “Then I’ll take my chances.”
And in that moment, Jasper, the psycho fox, who had never cared for anyone but himself, felt the tiniest crack form in the armor of his madness. A crack that shimmered with something dangerously close to hope.
For the first time, he thought perhaps the voices might not be the only company he needed.
And the Neon Woods, alive with fractured light, seemed to watch them both with bated breath.
Chapter 3: Crystal Hunger
The Neon Woods was a strange place in daylight, but by night it transformed into something entirely otherworldly. The crystals that lined the roots and branches glowed brighter, pulsing with colors that bled into the mist. Blues, violets, and fiery oranges shimmered against the darkness, making the forest look alive. To most creatures, it was haunting. To Jasper, it was home.
He perched on a ledge overlooking a ravine, goggles gleaming as he peered into the abyss. At the bottom, shards of crystal jutted out like teeth, humming a low note that seemed to vibrate in his chest. He leaned forward, ears twitching, eyes wide.
“Do you hear them?” he asked, though Lily was the only one beside him.
The bunny tilted her head, ears perked. “Hear what?”
“The voices,” Jasper replied, grinning too wide. He tapped the side of his head with a claw. “They call to me. Each shard whispers of the Prism Crystal. Do you know of it, Lily Bunny?”
She hesitated, recalling the old tales her family used to tell, stories meant to frighten children into obedience. “Only stories,” she admitted softly. “A crystal that can grant power to the one who claims it. They say it’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Jasper laughed, the sound sharp as broken glass. “Everything worth having is dangerous. That’s the beauty of it.” He stood, balancing on the ledge with effortless grace. “The Prism Crystal will silence the noise. No more whispers, no more fractured thoughts. Imagine it—me, sane.”
Lily frowned. “And if the stories are wrong? If it doesn’t bring peace?”
“Then it will bring power,” Jasper said simply. His grin widened. “And power is always useful.”
She wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t need crystals or power, that he was enough. But the fire in his eyes burned too brightly, consuming reason. He was obsessed, and she knew obsession was not something easily broken.
Instead, she asked gently, “Why do you want silence so badly?”
For a rare moment, Jasper’s smile faltered. He looked away, staring into the glowing ravine. His voice, when it came, was quieter than she expected. “Because the laughter isn’t always mine.”
The admission chilled her. He turned suddenly, laughing again, brushing it off as if it were nothing. “Come along, darling. There’s a shard nearby that sings louder than the rest. I intend to claim it before anyone else dares touch it.”
He bounded off into the trees, tail flicking, and Lily followed despite the unease twisting in her chest.
They trekked through the forest until they reached a clearing where the ground split open in jagged cracks. In the center, half-buried in stone, was a shard unlike any Lily had ever seen. It pulsed with light, shifting colors with every beat, like a living heart.
Jasper’s eyes lit up. “Beautiful,” he whispered, almost reverent. He dropped to his knees, claws scrabbling at the earth around it.
“Jasper, wait,” Lily urged, reaching for him. “What if it’s cursed?”
He laughed, ignoring her. “Cursed? Oh, sweet Lily, everything is cursed. That’s what makes it so precious.” His claws struck stone, sparks flying. “It’s mine. It belongs to me.”
The shard resisted, humming louder, as though unwilling to be moved. Jasper snarled, his grin twisting into something feral. He dug harder, faster, muttering to himself, fragments of words Lily couldn’t make out. The forest seemed to tremble with each strike.
Lily stepped closer, heart racing. She had seen him laugh at danger, taunt death, play with cruelty as though it were a toy. But this—this hunger was different. It was raw. Consuming.
“Jasper,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Stop.”
For a moment, he did. His breathing came ragged, eyes wild as he looked at her. Silence stretched, heavy and tense. Then slowly, painfully, he let his claws fall away from the shard.
The fox slumped back, panting, running a paw through his fur. He chuckled darkly. “You’re lucky I like you, Lily Bunny. Otherwise, I might not have listened.”
Lily knelt beside him, her soft paw brushing against his trembling one. “You don’t need it, Jasper. You’re stronger than you think.”
His eyes met hers, and for a fleeting second, she saw something fragile there. Vulnerability, buried deep beneath madness. It stirred something in her chest she couldn’t quite name.
But then the moment shattered. Jasper leaned closer, his grin returning, sharp and dangerous. “Careful, darling. Speak too sweetly, and I might think you care.”
“I do care,” Lily whispered.
That silenced him.
The fox blinked, goggles slipping slightly down his brow. He studied her with an intensity that made her heart pound, not from fear, but from something else entirely. He leaned closer, close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath, close enough to see the fractured reflection of herself in his golden eyes.
“Then you’re a fool,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Because if I truly love you back, Lily Bunny… there’s no telling what I might do.”
The air between them pulsed like the shard buried in the ground. For the first time, Lily realized that his obsession with crystals was nothing compared to the obsession beginning to grow inside him.
An obsession with her.
Chapter 4: Whispers in the Dark
The Neon Woods had its own way of speaking. The crystals hummed, the trees groaned, the wind carried secrets from one hollow to another. Most creatures listened only enough to know where danger lay, but some listened closer. And when they did, they all spoke the same name with dread.
Jasper.
The fox with the fractured grin. The psycho. The curse of the woods.
And now, they whispered of something new. A bunny with velvet ears who walked at his side.
Lily felt their eyes on her wherever she went. Birds darted overhead, shadows flitted between trees, whispers crawled across the moss. She knew the forest feared Jasper, but she hadn’t realized how deeply until she became tangled in his world.
She tried to ignore it, tried to hold her head high, but it was hard not to feel the weight of their stares. Harder still when Jasper seemed to revel in it.
One night, as they sat by a pool of glowing water, Jasper leaned back against a stone, tail curled lazily, grin stretched across his face. “They’re plotting, you know,” he said, tossing a pebble into the pool. It rippled, shattering the reflection of the crystals overhead.
Lily looked at him warily. “Plotting?”
“Oh, yes.” His voice dripped with amusement, though his eyes gleamed too sharply. “The little mice, the owls, the badgers hiding in their holes. They think they’re clever. They think they can scheme against me.” He tapped the side of his head. “But I hear them. I always hear them.”
Lily frowned. “Maybe they’re just afraid.”
“Of course they’re afraid,” Jasper said, laughing. “Fear is delicious. Fear is proof I exist. But now, darling…” His grin darkened. “Now they’re afraid for you.”
Her heart clenched. “For me?”
“They think I’ll ruin you,” Jasper whispered, his voice almost tender. “That I’ll pull you into the abyss with me. And maybe…” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Maybe they’re right.”
She reached for him, her paw brushing against his. “You’re not as monstrous as they think.”
For a heartbeat, his grin faltered. But then he laughed again, high and sharp. “Don’t lie to yourself, Lily Bunny. Monsters are honest. That’s why they’re feared.”
The next day, the whispers grew louder. Lily heard them clearly as she gathered herbs near a ring of mushrooms. Voices low and urgent.
“We must stop him.”85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1aHn8M18J7
“He’ll consume her as he consumes everything.”85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtVWTqN7Uk5
“She’s too kind. She doesn’t see it.”
Her ears flattened. They were talking about Jasper. About her.
A rustle made her turn. A crow sat on a branch, its black eyes glinting. “Leave him,” it cawed. “Before it’s too late. He’ll drag you into madness. He always does.”
Lily’s breath caught. She clutched her pouch of herbs tighter. “You don’t know him,” she whispered. “Not the way I do.”
The crow tilted its head, wings twitching. “You’re already blind. Soon you’ll be broken.” It flew off, its harsh call echoing through the trees.
That night, Lily didn’t sleep. She lay in her burrow, thoughts racing, ears twitching at every sound. She wanted to believe Jasper could be more than what the forest painted him to be. She had seen glimpses of vulnerability in him, moments when his madness cracked to reveal something raw and fragile. But the fear in the whispers gnawed at her.
When dawn came, she found Jasper sharpening a crystal blade against a stone, humming a discordant tune. His grin widened when he saw her.
“Good morning, my little velvet ears,” he greeted. “Did you sleep well, or did the voices keep you awake too?”
She hesitated. “Jasper… do you think they’ll try to hurt you?”
“Oh, they’ll try,” he said cheerfully. “They always try. But I rather enjoy it, don’t you? A little paranoia keeps life interesting.” His grin sharpened. “And if they touch you, Lily Bunny, I’ll paint the trees with their blood.”
Her breath caught at the violence in his tone, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes. It wasn’t empty threat. It was a promise.
Lily knelt beside him, laying a paw on his arm. “I don’t want war. I don’t want you to fight them.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “But what if they come for you?”
“Then I’ll face them,” she said quietly. “With you, if you’ll let me. But not with claws and blood. With truth.”
Jasper laughed, shaking his head. “Truth doesn’t frighten anyone. Only madness does.” He leaned close, his breath hot against her fur. “And I am very good at madness.”
Later that night, as they walked through the glowing trees, Jasper froze. His ears twitched, his grin twisting into something sharp.
“They’re here,” he whispered.
From the shadows, shapes emerged. Deer with antlers like blades. Wolves with eyes burning red. Owls glaring from the branches. They stood in a circle, surrounding Jasper and Lily.
The air vibrated with their hatred, their fear.
“Fox,” a stag rumbled, its antlers catching the crystal light. “You’ve gone too far. The woods will not tolerate you any longer.”
Jasper’s grin widened, dangerous and wild. “Oh, I was wondering when the welcoming committee would arrive.” He twirled the crystal blade in his paw, laughing. “Shall we dance?”
Lily stepped forward, ears raised, heart pounding. “Stop! He isn’t what you think—”
“Silence, bunny,” snarled a wolf. “He’s poisoned you already.”
Jasper’s laughter rang out, sharp as lightning. “Poisoned? No, no, no. She’s mine. And I don’t share.”
He raised his blade, ready to strike, eyes alight with manic joy.
But Lily grabbed his paw. “Jasper,” she whispered, desperation in her voice. “Don’t.”
For a moment, he paused. Just long enough for the forest to hold its breath.
And in that hesitation, the fate of them both hung trembling in the Neon Woods.
Chapter Five : The Betrayal
The night smelt wrong.
Jasper’s nose twitched as he prowled along the crooked branches that bent under his paws. Every leaf was too still, every shadow too quiet. The Neon Woods usually pulsed with their strange glow, fireflies scribbling drunken circles in the air, but tonight it was as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
He narrowed his eyes. His fur bristled like steel needles, ears flicking to catch the smallest tremor of sound.
“Lily,” he whispered down to the ground where she walked, her soft feet barely disturbing the moss. “Stay close.”
She hugged her basket to her chest. Inside were herbs she had gathered, leaves that shimmered with a gentle bioluminescence. “You’re making that face again,” she teased softly.
“What face?”
“The one that says everyone is out to kill you.”
Jasper’s grin stretched wider than it should have. “That’s because they are.”
She shook her head, though her eyes softened. “Not everyone.”
He dropped silently from the branch, landing beside her without a sound. His tail swished once, tense. He wanted to believe her, but his instincts clawed at his mind. The forest had been speaking in fractured tones all evening. Birds had cut their songs short. Frogs drowned themselves in silence. The world was warning him, and he was not about to ignore it.
They were halfway across a clearing when it happened.
A rope snared Lily’s ankles. She shrieked as she was hoisted violently into the air, her basket scattering glowing herbs across the dirt like fallen stars. Jasper whirled, claws slicing the dark, but shadows leapt from the trees. Hunters.
Fox-trappers.
They stank of sweat, iron, and hatred.
“Well, well,” one of them snarled, stepping forward with a crooked grin. “The psycho fox himself.”
Jasper’s lips peeled back in a snarl that showed every glinting tooth. His laugh cut the silence, sharp and broken. “You’re not real,” he hissed, head tilting as his eyes widened. “You’re the forest’s joke. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
But the glint of steel nets in their hands told him otherwise.
Lily thrashed against the rope, ears bouncing wildly as she cried out, “Jasper! Don’t! There are too many!”
He crouched low, tail lashing, eyes bloodshot with fury. “Too many?” His laugh cracked again. “There are never too many. Not when they want to take what’s mine.”
He lunged.
Chaos shattered the clearing. Hunters scrambled, nets whipping through the air, but Jasper was a blur of teeth and claws. His madness fueled him. He shredded a man’s arm before twisting free of another’s grasp, his laughter rising into a manic howl. Blood sprayed across the glowing moss.
But then—
“Get the bunny!” someone roared.
And Jasper froze for a fraction of a second too long.
They yanked Lily down, gagged her, bound her with iron-threaded ropes. Her muffled screams tore through him as two hunters dragged her toward the shadows.
“No!” Jasper’s voice cracked into a shriek, more animal than man. He launched forward, but a net of iron wires slammed over him mid-leap. The pain seared through his skin, burning as if the wires were alive. He writhed, eyes rolling, laughter turning into a guttural scream.
“Hold him!” the leader bellowed.
Three men bore down on the net, shoving stakes into the ground, pinning him with sheer force. His claws dug trenches into the earth as he fought, but the iron ate at him, dulling his strength.
He looked up just in time to see Lily disappearing into the trees, her eyes wide with terror, ears trembling, her small form swallowed by the dark.
And something inside him broke.
His breath came in ragged gasps. The laughter that bubbled from his throat was hollow, broken glass grinding against itself. He whispered her name over and over, each time a little more twisted.
“Lily… Lily… Lily…”
Then silence.
The hunters stepped back, panting, expecting him to collapse. But his eyes glowed—feral, molten, unholy. He pressed his face against the iron net, grinning with bloodied teeth.
“You took her,” he crooned, voice dripping venom. “Now I’ll take everything from you.”
The forest shuddered as his laughter returned, louder, sharper, so wild that even the hunters faltered. It echoed through the Neon Woods like a curse, promising ruin.
And that night, a legend was born. Not of Jasper the mad trickster. Not of Jasper the crystal-hoarder. But of Jasper the psycho fox who would tear the world apart for the bunny with velvet ears.
Chapter Six : A Fox on Fire
The Neon Woods trembled.
Jasper lay coiled under the iron net, his fur matted with blood and his grin carved too wide across his face. The hunters whispered nervously, their laughter at his capture already fading into unease. For though he was bound, he did not look beaten. His eyes gleamed like burning coals in a nest of wire.
One of the younger hunters edged closer. “Why’s he smiling like that?”
Jasper’s tongue lolled out as he hummed tunelessly, rocking back and forth. “Because,” he whispered, “you think you’ve won. And that makes the punchline sweeter.”
Before the hunter could respond, Jasper wrenched his body against the net. The iron hissed against his skin, searing through his flesh, but he didn’t stop. He twisted, convulsed, laughed through the agony as though the pain itself was feeding him. Blood steamed where the wires dug in, but he clawed his way out, tearing chunks of fur and skin with him.
The hunters staggered back, horrified.
“Impossible,” one breathed.
Jasper rose. His fur hung in bloody strips, his grin dripping crimson. “Not impossible,” he crooned. “Just psycho.”
He pounced.
The clearing erupted into screams. Jasper’s claws slashed across throats, his teeth sank into shoulders, his tail whipped like a blade. He was fire given flesh, his movements too fast, too savage, too unnatural. Nets flew at him, but he shredded them like cobwebs. Swords slashed at him, but he slipped between strikes, giggling in the hunters’ ears before ripping them apart.
Blood stained the glowing moss, turning it into a grotesque carpet of red and green. The forest that had held its breath now howled with the sound of slaughter.
“Where’s the bunny?” Jasper sang, his voice slicing through the chaos. He yanked a hunter off his feet, shaking him like a ragdoll. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!”
The man choked on his fear. “The… caves—north side!”
Jasper dropped him, head tilting in mock affection. “Thank you,” he whispered, before raking his claws across the man’s chest in one final gesture.
When it was done, silence fell again. The hunters who had come to capture a fox now lay broken, sprawled across the clearing in pieces. Only one lived, crawling weakly into the shadows, but Jasper let him go. He wanted the tale to spread. He wanted the forest to quake at the mention of his name.
He licked his claws clean, his laughter echoing against the trees.
“Lily, my sweet velvet ears,” he murmured. “I’m coming for you.”
With that, he vanished into the woods, a crimson blur on the trail of her captors. Every step he took left streaks of blood on the glowing moss. His madness was no longer a private storm. It was wildfire. It was vengeance. It was love twisted into something monstrous.
The Neon Woods had never seen a fox burn so bright.
And it would never forget the night Jasper turned psycho into legend.
Chapter Seven : Love in Ruin
The caves loomed like jagged teeth, their mouths slick with moss and glowing fungus. Jasper stalked toward them, his paws silent against the stone, his fur still damp with blood. His laughter no longer bubbled out in bursts...it hummed low and steady, like the growl of a storm waiting to break.
Inside, the air was damp, heavy with smoke and iron. He followed the trail of their stink...sweat, oil, fear. It led him to a chamber where torches burned against the walls.
And there she was.
Lily Bunny.
Her velvet ears drooped, her wrists bound with iron-thread ropes, her small body slumped against the cold stone. Her eyes fluttered open when she heard the sound of claws scratching against rock.
“Jasper…” Her voice cracked, dry as dust.
He tilted his head, grin sharp and wrong. “Did they hurt you?”
“They tried to,” she whispered, her eyes shining even through the exhaustion. “But I kept thinking you’d come.”
He stepped closer, claws glinting in the firelight. Behind him, two hunters leapt from the shadows, desperate to stop him. Jasper didn’t even flinch. He spun, tail lashing, claws carving arcs through the air. One man’s scream ended in a gurgle as he fell with his throat open. The other tried to flee, but Jasper pounced, driving his teeth into the back of the man’s neck until bone cracked.
The cave fell silent again. Only Jasper’s ragged breathing and Lily’s trembling gasp remained.
He turned to her, the madness in his eyes flickering with something softer. For the first time that night, his grin wavered.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “Like I’m a monster.”
“You’re not,” she said firmly, even as her tears fell. “You’re mine.”
The words struck him harder than any blade. His paws shook as he cut her bonds, iron slicing his skin as he tore them apart. The ropes fell, and she collapsed into his arms. He caught her gently, as though she were the only thing in this world not meant to be broken.
She buried her face in his chest, sobbing. “You’re bleeding…”
“I’m always bleeding,” he chuckled, hollow. “But I don’t care. You’re here. You’re safe.”
She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her own fierce despite the tears. “Promise me you won’t lose yourself completely.”
His grin twisted, uneven, his laughter spilling out again but softer, almost tender. “I can’t promise that, Lily. I was lost long before you found me.”
Her fingers brushed his cheek, tracing the scars, the blood, the madness. “Then let me be the one thing that anchors you.”
He froze. For all his chaos, for all his brokenness, the words rooted deep inside him. No one had ever wanted him, not like this, not through the fire and ruin. His laughter broke into something raw, something dangerously close to a sob.
“Anchor…” he whispered. “Yes. Yes. I like that.”
He kissed her then wild, desperate, tasting of iron and tears. It wasn’t gentle, but it was real, the kind of kiss that said they belonged together, twisted and ruined though they were.
When they pulled apart, Lily leaned her forehead against his. “I love you, Jasper.”
For a moment, silence. Then his grin widened...not cruel, not mocking, but shattered and honest.
“I love you too, my velvet ears. More than the crystals. More than the forest. More than my own mind.”
And as the torches burned low, they held each other among the bodies and shadows. Love in ruin, bound not by sanity, but by something stronger.
Something forever.
Chapter Eight : Forever Twisted
Dawn crept over the Neon Woods like spilled paint, washing the twisted trees in pale gold. Smoke still rose from the caves behind them, carrying the stink of iron and blood. Jasper and Lily walked hand in paw, their bodies bruised and torn, yet their bond unbroken.
The forest whispered of what had happened in the night.
Of hunters who had screamed and never returned.85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh06bxgKK21
Of fire in the shape of a fox.85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBL0a3BaLA6
Of laughter that cracked the very air.
Legends were being born with every step they took.
Jasper’s ears twitched at the whispers. His grin spread, jagged and satisfied. He liked being the monster in their stories. He liked being feared. But when he looked at Lily, leaning against him for strength, his laughter softened into something stranger. Something gentler.
“They’ll hunt us,” Lily murmured, her voice quiet but steady. “They’ll never stop.”
“Let them,” Jasper crooned, tilting his head until his teeth flashed. “It’s fun when they try.”
She smiled faintly, despite her exhaustion. “You’re insane.”
“Of course I am.” His tail brushed against her leg as he pulled her closer. “But I’m your insane.”
They paused at the edge of the woods, where the trees thinned into a horizon painted in firelight. For the first time, Jasper’s grin faltered. His amber eyes flicked toward the caves, toward the ruin they left behind.
“I can’t go back,” he admitted, voice low. “Not to the crystals. Not to who I was. That Jasper is gone.”
Lily slipped her paw into his, squeezing tight. “Then let’s build something new. Together.”
He stared at her, laughter trembling on his lips but never leaving. His heart, twisted and battered, felt like it might split in two. For a moment, the madness didn’t feel like a curse. It felt like freedom.
“You make me dangerous,” he whispered. “And beautiful. And whole.”
“And you make me brave,” she replied.
He pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the chill morning air. Then, without another word, they stepped forward...past the woods, past the blood, into a world that would never understand them.
Behind them, the Neon Woods exhaled a long, trembling sigh.
Ahead of them, the horizon blazed.
Together, fox and bunny vanished into the light, bound by love, sharpened by ruin. They were not heroes. They were not villains. They were something else entirely.
Forever twisted.
Forever theirs.
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