[POV Ethan]
Darkness. That was the first thing I noticed, right before silence took over everything. My body felt... different.
I opened my eyes slowly. The white ceiling above me took a few seconds to come into focus as I blinked, trying to remember where the hell I was.
Salvatore School.
I looked around and recognized the infirmary. Right. But how had I ended up there? The last thing I remembered was sitting under the tree with Penelope. She was helping me with magic, we were talking about that weird spell of hers, and then... I started feeling hot. Really hot. After that, I completely lost consciousness.
"What the hell..." My voice came out hoarse, almost unrecognizable.
I tried to sit up, and that's when I noticed the first thing wrong: my body rose too fast, almost like I weighed nothing at all. I put a hand on the mattress to steady myself and felt my fingers sink into the fabric way more than they should.
I frowned. I looked at my hand and saw the veins bulging, branching down my forearms under the skin like a drawn map. I ran my eyes over the rest of my body and simply froze.
My shirt was practically glued to me. Worse: it looked too small. My shoulders stretched the fabric, my arms completely filled the sleeves, and my chest looked twice as wide as I remembered. I lifted the hem of my shirt and my brain short-circuited.
My stomach was completely defined. It wasn't the light definition of someone who worked out a little; it looked like I'd spent years lifting weights every single day. Every muscle was marked, sculpted while I slept. I ran my hand over my stomach, in disbelief.
"Since when do I have all this?"
I'd always been strong — too strong, really. But never like that.
Then I noticed something else: the bed seemed smaller. I put my feet on the floor, stood up, and stopped immediately. I looked at the floor, at the bed, and back at my legs. I was taller. Definitely and terrifyingly taller.
"Oh, no..."
I walked over to the small mirror mounted on the wall. The boy reflected there was still me... more or less. My black hair had grown a lot, falling messily over my forehead. My face looked more mature, my jaw sharper, my neck thicker. It was a version of me that seemed to have jumped forward a few years in time.
I ran a hand through my hair, pushing the strands back.
"How long was I out?"
That's when I noticed something even deeper: I felt ridiculously strong. It wasn't an ordinary feeling; it was like something was running through my veins, a constant pressure, an absurd energy waiting to be released. I clenched my fist and the muscles in my forearm tightened. For a second, I had the strange, clear certainty that I could punch through that wall.
"This isn't normal. Even by my standards."
I tried to adjust my shirt, but it was useless. It was bursting at the seams. My pants weren't doing much better.
"Great. Now my clothes shrank," I muttered. I paused for a second. "Or I grew... Shit."
Before I could process the collapse of my wardrobe, I heard footsteps approaching down the hallway. My ear picked up the sound long before the person reached the door: light footsteps, a rhythmic heartbeat, breathing, and even the faint sloshing of water inside a container. My hearing had always been good, but this was on another level.
The doorknob turned and the door opened. Lizzie walked in carrying a small basin of water in one hand and a damp towel in the other, her eyes fixed on the basin.
"Okay, let's try to bring that fever down again because, apparently, your body decided that forty degrees is a completely acceptable temperature and—"
She looked up. Stopped mid-step. The basin nearly slipped out of her hands.
"Ethan?!"
"Hey."
"OH MY GOD!" Lizzie set the basin down on a nearby table and rushed over to me, staring like she'd seen a ghost. "Are you okay? Are you in pain? Are you dizzy? Can you see straight? How many fingers am I holding up?" She held up three fingers in my face.
"Lizzie."
"Answer!"
"Three."
"Great!" She sighed, relieved, but without asking permission, she pressed her palm to my forehead. Her expression changed instantly. Her eyebrows knit together. "You're still hot."
"I feel normal."
"Ethan, you're burning up."
"Like, a fever?"
"Like, 'if you were human, I'd be calling an ambulance right now.'"
"Weird..." I looked at my own hand.
"Your temperature's been like this the whole time," she continued, but as she pulled her hand away, that's when she really seemed to see me. Her eyes traveled over my face, my shoulders, my arms. She blinked once, twice.
I tilted my head.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're looking at me weird."
"I am not."
"You are so."
"I am NOT!" She looked away quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as her cheeks flushed slightly.
I glanced down at my tight shirt, then at her, then back at the stretched fabric.
"Ah."
"Don't even start."
A small smile crept onto my face.
"I didn't even say anything."
"But you thought it."
"Can you read minds now?"
"No. You just have an extremely annoying face when you think you've figured something out."
I let out a short laugh.
"Fair."
Lizzie composed herself and pointed sternly at the bed.
"Sit."
"Why?"
"Because you just woke up after being unconscious for weeks and, apparently, your first brilliant idea was to get up and start walking around!"
My smile vanished instantly. I went still.
"Wait. Did you say... weeks?" I looked directly at her. "How long?"
Lizzie's face turned serious.
"Ethan..."
"How long, Lizzie?"
"Three weeks," she hesitated.
Absolute silence. I stared at her, the air rushing out of my lungs.
"Three... weeks?"
She nodded.
"You were unconscious for three weeks."
I ran a hand over my face, taking in my long hair, my different body, my clothes tearing apart. Everything started to make a little sense and, at the same time, no sense at all.
"What the hell happened to me?"
"That's the question everyone's been asking since the day you passed out," Lizzie let out a slow breath. "Emma, my mom, my dad, the teachers... Everyone tried spells, tests, looked for curses, poisons, supernatural illnesses. Nothing. Your body just started changing on its own. In the first few days your temperature spiked, your metabolism went crazy, your heart raced, and your muscles started transforming. You grew... a lot."
"How much?"
Lizzie looked me up and down.
"They haven't measured you yet, but... you noticed you don't look fourteen anymore, right? You look about seventeen now."
I spun around to face the mirror. Seventeen. From fourteen to seventeen in three weeks.
"This is really strange," Lizzie murmured. "How is it even possible for someone to physically age like that?"
"I don't know either," I closed and opened my hand, feeling that raw strength. "But I'm pretty sure it has something to do with my wolf side. My magic never changed my body like this. This is physical. And my father... well, my mom always said my abnormal strength came from Clark."
"But the other werewolves here don't go through this," Lizzie pointed out, raising her fingers to count. "They don't fall into a coma for three weeks, don't age years out of nowhere, don't run a constant fever, and definitely don't wake up looking like they've been living at the gym. Why is it different with you?"
"No idea. At this point?" I let out a humorless laugh. "I don't rule out a damn thing anymore."
Lizzie looked at me with genuine concern.
"But seriously now... Are you really okay? No pain, weakness, dizziness?"
"Nothing," I rolled my shoulders back to loosen up.
That was a mistake.
RRRIP!
I froze. So did Lizzie. The seam of my shirt gave out right at the shoulder, tearing all the way to the sleeve.
When I tried to lift the other arm to look: RRIP! The other sleeve went flying too.
"Oh, come on!"
Lizzie covered her mouth, but a laugh escaped that she couldn't hold back.
"Don't laugh!"
"I'm trying!"
"My shirt just gave up on life!"
"Ethan, you went up three sizes while you were asleep! What did you expect?!" She burst out laughing.
"I expected it to hold on until I got to the closet! Traitor..." I grumbled, trying to fix the torn fabric and only making the hole bigger.
"On the bright side..." Lizzie glanced quickly at my arm before looking away. "I don't think you'll be complaining about the result too much."
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're looking at me weird again."
"Shut up!"
I smiled. I moved my arms more carefully this time. No pain. Actually, I felt incredibly good.
"Lizzie... I've never felt this good in my life. It's like I spent my whole life in a body that wasn't ready. And now it is."
A little while later, I left the infirmary with Lizzie. My shirt was in tatters, and as we walked through the halls, students stopped to stare. Whispers everywhere. I didn't blame them; I looked like a completely different person.
We reached the administration office, where Alaric was going over papers behind his desk. Lizzie knocked on the door.
"Dad."
Alaric looked up and froze. His gaze traveled over my face, shoulders, arms, and the destroyed shirt. He slowly set down his pen.
"Ethan?"
I spread my arms.
"In the flesh, and about twenty kilos heavier."
Alaric stood up, a wry smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
"You know, kid... taking steroids at your age isn't good for your health."
"Steroids? I have no idea what you're talking about, old man."
Lizzie laughed. Alaric shook his head, but the teasing expression gave way to a careful look.
"How are you feeling?"
"Really good. Actually, better than before."
"Unexpected," he admitted.
Remembering a practical detail, I got worried.
"Wait. I missed three weeks of class. Am I gonna have to repeat the year? I barely understood half the subjects before!"
Alaric held back a laugh.
"You were in a coma, went through some kind of transformation, and you're running a constant fever. I think we can overlook a few absences. You're not repeating the year. But we'll set up some catch-up classes once you've adjusted."
"Great, way to ruin it," I grumbled.
"Go rest, Ethan," he pointed to the door, turning serious again for a moment. "And if you feel anything strange... anything at all... let me know."
"Before anything else, is there any way you could lend me some of your clothes, old man?"
"Ah, right, yours probably don't fit you anymore. I'll see what I can find for you in a bit."
"Alright, thanks, old man."
I thought about that strange, animal-like feeling that was starting to stir in my chest, but I just nodded.
"Will do."
On the way to my room, though, the feeling got stronger. It wasn't just the sharper hearing or the strength. It was an emptiness. A calling. Like something was missing.
In my room, I took a long shower. The scalding water felt almost cold against my skin. I put on the loosest clothes I had — a black t-shirt and pants that used to be baggy but now seemed tailor-made (with the pants ending up a little short).
I grabbed my phone and saw dozens of missed calls from my mom. I called her back. She picked up on the first ring, frantic, giving me the lecture of my life before softening at the sound of my voice. I explained everything to her. Told her about the changes, the fever, and even blurted out:
"For the first time in my life... I think I actually need to thank my father for something. If it was him who gave me this, at least that bastard did one good thing."
My mom laughed on the other end, relieved to hear I was okay. We ended the call, but the restlessness in my chest didn't go away. I needed to get out.
I walked through the school gardens and, without realizing it, my feet led me to the exact same spot as before: the big tree on the lawn. I sat down in the grass, leaned my back against the trunk, and took a deep breath. The scent of the forest hit me with absurd intensity — earth, leaves, moisture, animals. I could pick out every single detail.
That's when I heard it.
Coming from deep in the woods.
Awoooooooooo!
My eyes snapped open. A howl. A wolf.
Instinctively, something inside me responded. My heart raced with pure recognition.
Awoooooooooo!
I stood up and walked toward the trees, quickening my pace. The scent of a wild animal pulled at me. The deeper I went into the forest, the more that emptiness disappeared.
Suddenly, my heart gave a violent jolt.
THUMP.
I brought my hand to my chest. The heat intensified drastically, but it wasn't pain; it was a crushing pressure of pure energy wanting to break through my skin. My vision started to darken, the sounds of the forest blurred together, and my consciousness simply shut off.
I don't know how much time passed.
When my mind came back, the smells and sounds were a thousand times sharper. I opened my eyes and realized my perspective relative to the ground was completely wrong. I tried to stand up and four points of contact touched the earth.
I froze. I tried to speak, but what came out of my throat was a deep, guttural growl:
GRRRRRRRRRRR...
I looked down. Giant paws covered in dark fur were holding up my body. I took a step back and a thick branch snapped like a twig under my weight. My massive chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. I could feel entirely new muscles moving.
Desperate, I made my way to a small lake between the trees. Every step seemed to shake the ground.
When I reached the shore and looked at the water, the shock froze me in place.
The reflection wasn't human. It was a gigantic wolf. Thick black fur, a broad chest, massive paws, and fangs far too sharp. My head was level with a grown man's chest — I was the size of a horse, maybe bigger.
My tail swayed slowly; my ears twitched at the slightest sound of wind. It wasn't an illusion or a spell. It was my body. I was that.
And as I stared into those wild eyes in the reflection, a single thought crossed my mind:
What the hell happened to me?