The forest stretched out before the eyes of anyone who happened to venture into its depths, a mysterious place where time seemed to stand still. The tall, oak trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching toward the sky like ancient sentinels crawling in on themselves. Right above them, the canopy was a patchwork of green leaves and tangled vines, filtering the dim light that managed to penetrate the thick foliage. The ground was carpeted with a lush carpet of moss and ferns, the earthy scent of damp soil rising with each step.

A gentle breeze whispered through the trees, the leaves rustling and dancing in a hypnotic rhythm. The air was cool and invigorating all around, carrying a promise of rain that hung heavy in the clouds. The sounds of deer and subtle undergrowth filled the air, creating a symphony of nature's composition. In the distance, the soft murmur of crows could be heard, their distant squawking meandering through the forest like a death ribbon.

Before the fiery hues of the evening sky began to melt into a dark gray, a sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air. Just then, like tiny beacons of light in the darkness, fireflies emerged from their hiding places, their delicate lanterns casting a soft, golden glow. A faint buzzing accompanied their dance around the swaying trees, an eerie sound that echoed with the wind.

The dirt path leading to the looming Godfrey Steel Mill was shrouded in shadows, the fading sunlight painting long, slanting beams across the unkempt grass. Amid the tall blades, a shadowed figure moved with purpose toward the imposing structure, a silent silhouette against the dimming light. Following closely behind was another, larger and more imposing in stature, their presence commanding attention in the encroaching gloom.

With the sky completely obscured by clouds, the first droplets of rain began to fall, a gentle patter soon escalating into a torrential downpour. Undeterred by the deluge, the two figures pressed on, their movements deliberate and unhurried. Approaching a sizable crack in the factory's foundation, one of them paused, peering inside with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

It seemed Roman Godfrey was genuinely worried, his brow furrowed as he lingered in front of Dr. Clementine Chasseur. What was happening before him was surreal. She was knelt before the wolf, its form lying still on the dirty floor. With careful precision, she pulled out a muzzle and secured it over the wolf's mouth, the effects of the ketamine dart evident in its motionless state.

"Can't you see I'm trying to help? Why won't you let me help?" he managed to spit out, his fingers nervously slotting through his tousled hair. There was a sense of urgency in his stance when he took a small step forward.

She rose from her kneeling position, her expression stoic. "Because you don't believe in God," she remarked, as if that was obvious. Her gaze bore into him, her resolve unwavering as she continued, "You're helpless. Peter's helpless. Even a fool could see that."

It was true. He didn't believe in God. That part didn't faze him at all, but the helpless comment solidified the truth. He knew what she would do to Peter. That cut him deeper than he'd like to admit. He swallowed hard, his lips pressed into a thin line as he continued to avert his gaze, his eyes scanning the dilapidated factory in an attempt to avoid the intensity of her scrutiny.

However, her next move caught him off guard. With a swift and deliberate motion, she reached into her thigh holster and pulled out a gleaming silver gun. Despite the gravity of the situation, her demeanor remained composed as she leveled the weapon at Roman, her voice calm yet firm as she issued her command, "Please, go to your car and leave of your own volition."

The air hung heavy with the weight of the unspoken threat, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. He hesitated, his gaze finding the sedated wolf, the silence ringing loud in the stale air. Her patience was wearing thin, and she issued a final request. "I'm going to be really pissed if I have to shoot you," she offhandedly commented with a hint of exasperation.

Defiantly holding his ground, he couldn't help how his face darkened as his jaw set in a stubborn line. With a few measured steps backward, his eyes never leaving the wolf, he inadvertently backed himself into a corner of rubble and broken roof panels. The stand-off continued, both parties refusing to back down, the tension between them palpable as the stalemate reached a dangerous crescendo.

"I'm not afraid of you," Roman declared with a weak challenge in his stance. He didn't look afraid, and that frustrated her more than anything.

In a fluid and practiced motion, she reholstered the weapon, her movements betraying a sense of lethal grace. Her fingers then deftly sought out the handle of a large hunting knife nestled securely into her waist belt, the cold metal reflecting the faint moonlight like a shard of silver in the dark. With a swift flick of her wrist, she drew the blade, the sharpened edge gleaming menacingly as it caught the light.

Kneeling before the motionless wolf, Clementine's steely gaze locked onto her target, her resolve piercing despite the gravity of the situation. Everything was going to plan and even in her favor. The knife hovered ominously over the wolf's throat, poised to strike with deadly precision.

In a sudden outburst of emotion, Roman yelled out, his voice tinged with anger, "You hurt him, and I'll kill you, I swear!" A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his eyes widened in what looked like desperation.

Her hand faltered slightly in response to his impassioned plea, the blade of the knife grazing the wolf's fur in a fleeting moment of clarity. After looking up, she noticed him watching the wolf, his concern palpable in the dim light that streamed through the broken windows. She hesitated and realizing that made her jaw tighten.

"Okay, just... don't hurt him. Don't hurt him," he implored, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes never leaving the wounded wolf at their feet. His whispered words hung heavy in the air, a fragile plea for mercy amid the tension and uncertainty that enveloped them.

The sound of pouring rain created a haunting echo, leaving nothing but silence for a brief moment. It was until she spat out, "Get out of here," that he knew her frustration was reaching its limit. Her nose scrunched up in what seemed like annoyance as she growled, "Now! Leave! Get the fuck out of here!"

With his jaw clenched tightly, Roman met her gaze with an irritated huff, his frustration evident as he began to walk backward, never breaking eye contact. Pointing a ringed finger at her with a menacing glare, he uttered the chilling words, "I'll fucking find you," before turning his back on her and striding out of the entrance, the soles of his boots scraping against the dirty floor.

Meanwhile, Clementine stood before the wolf, its once brown fur now matted and sodden from laying in a pool of rainwater. With a heavy sigh, she bent down to retrieve her backpack, the weight of it a burden on her shoulders as she settled it into place. Determination etched on her features, she prepared to take on the task of moving the wolf to the next room, each step a torturous effort. Thirty grueling minutes passed as she struggled to drag the weighty creature across the floor, the wolf's bulk proving to be heavier than she had anticipated.

Finally, with a heave and a push, she managed to maneuver the wolf into a rusted cage, its timeworn appearance belying its functionality in her current predicament. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead as she stood back, surveying her handiwork with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. The wolf, now confined within the confines of the cage, lay still, its rhythmic breathing the only sound in the pouring rain.

She acted with an unnatural calmness, belying the intensity of the situation. As she reached for her cell phone from her back pocket, a sense of foreboding lingered in the air, palpable even in the stillness of the large space. The device lay cold and indifferent in her hand, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within her.

For what felt like an eternity, her gaze lingered on the phone as her thoughts slowly became a whirlwind of emotions. Knowing that she should've dialed a familiar number, she chose to shake her head. A flicker of reluctance crossed her stoic expression before she set the cell phone down on the rickety table. Almost as if relinquishing a lifeline she was not ready to grasp.

Turning her attention to the wooden table, her eyes locked onto the cage that housed the wolf. She bit on her bottom lip, but she didn't dare look away with remorse. Even more so, guilt seemed to be the last thing on her mind. The beast's primal breaths reverberated through the empty room, a haunting reminder of the imminent choice she had to make.

Approaching the cage with measured steps, her hand gravitated toward the hunting knife secured in her thigh holster. The glint of steel reflected her face as she whispered, "Don't worry, baby. I can save one of us." She wanted to reassure the creature, her voice a blend of perseverance and compassion.

Clementine's curly brunette hair fell gently around her face, obscuring her detached features as she raised the hunting knife, holding it against the handle against her stomach in a gesture that seemed both reverent and ominous. Her lips moved in prayer, playing the part of the predator. "Come to my assistance," she began, "in this great need that I receive the consolation and succor of heaven... in all my tribulations, necessities, and sufferings."

The weight of the hunting knife in her hands felt heavier than ever. Peter Rumancek, lay before her, a creature of the night now at her mercy. She prepared to deliver the final blow her eyes closed in anticipation. But just as the blade began its descent, a soft voice, like a fragile whisper carried by the wind, pierced through the silence of the desolate mill. The voice called out to her, not in desperation, but in a tone of familiarity and need, "Help me, Clementine."

Startled, her eyes snapped open, and she withdrew the hunting knife, her gaze darting around the shadowy confines of the room. A wave of unease washed over her as she struggled to make sense of her brother calling out to her in the darkness. With a heavy heart, she made a decision, setting aside her initial task and taking a step back from the cage. Slowly, she reholstered the hunting knife, the weight of the weapon a stark reminder of her purpose here. Her footsteps echoed softly on the cold concrete floor as she made her way toward the open door.

The moonlight filtering through the shattered windows cast an eerie glow on her path as she made her way toward the heart of the abandoned Godfrey Steel Mill. The dilapidated structure loomed large and foreboding, its shadows dancing ominously in the dim light. A faint whisper brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, but before she could make sense of it, another voice pierced the stillness, urgent and pleading.

"They'll hurt me if you don't hurry," it implored, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, she steeled herself and ventured further into the darkness, guided only by the dim moonlight that bathed the derelict structure in a ghostly pallor. The towering pillars that lined her path stood like silent sentinels, their forms now marred by time and neglect, some crumbling under the weight of their decay. Shadows danced across the cracked concrete floor, casting sinister shapes that seemed to move and shift in the dim light.

Summoning her courage, Clementine called out into the void, her voice barely more than a whisper in the oppressive stillness, "Michael?"

Before she could peer around a weathered pillar, a sudden, blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, rending the air with a primal urgency that left her frozen in terror. The voice that had beckoned her now cried out in frantic desperation. "Help me, help me, don't let them kill me, please," it begged, the raw terror in its tone sending a chill down her spine.

With her heart hammering in her chest, her blood ran cold as the voice fell silent once again. This only left a painful feeling of panic. It seemed to linger in the chilly air like a malevolent specter that wouldn't disappear. The rubble under her boots was audibly crunched when she took a hesitant step backward. Just when she spun around to flee, a hand shot out from the darkness, seizing her by the jaw with a vice-like grip that sent shockwaves of terror through her body.

Clementine's piercing scream reverberated through the dark and desolate corridor, its fear lingered in the air like a ghostly whisper. Outside, the relentless rain fell in thick sheets from the night sky, obscuring any sound that dared to compete with nature's turbulent symphony. The downpour seemed to mask the sound of tearing flesh, swallowing them whole and drowning them in a cacophony of thunderous drumming on the rusty metal roof. In the eerie stillness that followed, the only thing that resonated was the haunting echo of her scream.

For in this cursed town, where the line between reality and nightmare blurred under the cloak of secrets, it was well-known that bad things happened after sundown; when the veil between the living and the dead grew thin and the supernatural creatures that dwelled in the shadows were free to roam unchecked.

Olivia Cooke : Francesca 'Frankie' Prescott

Bill Skarsgård : Roman Godfrey

Landon Liboiron : Peter Rumancek

Jared Padalecki : Nicholas 'Nick' Gallagher

Extended Cast.

Kandyse McClure : Dr. Clementine Chasseur
Penelope Mitchell : Letha Godfrey
Famke Janssen : Olivia Godfrey
Madeleine Martin : Shelley Godfrey
Joel de la Fuente : Dr. Johann Pryce
Kaniehtiio Horn : Destiny Rumancek
Lili Taylor : Lynda Rumancek
Aaron Douglas : Tom Sworn
Freya Tingley : Christina Wendall

+ The Hemlock Grove cast as their respective characters.

Disclaimers and warnings.

I do not own Hemlock Grove or the characters written by the creators of the tv series. However, I do own Francesca Prescott and Nicolas Gallagher. Consequently, their background, dialogue, and plot line belong to me, unless stated otherwise.

This book will contain mentions of the following: minor and major character deaths, crude language, violence, sexually explicit content, illegal substances, underage drinking, cannibalism, murder, heavy gore, the usual Hemlock Grove themes, etc.

The beautiful graphic was created by viendettas

Please be advised:
18+
However, this is purely a work of fiction.

Dedication.

To all of the people who obsessed over Hemlock Grove in one point of their lives.

Author's note.

Watching this show at such a young age did something bad to my brain. So... here we are.

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