The shotgun roared, but the sound was swallowed by the forest almost as quickly as it had come. The spray of lead pellets scattered into the night, shredding bark from a tree somewhere behind the black wolf. The beast didn't even flinch. If anything, its massive head jerked back toward Adam with something that looked like fury, an animal's rage flaring at the sting of irritation rather than pain.
Adam's heart dropped. He knew enough about guns to realize his mistake. Shotguns weren't for distance. The pellets had lost their bite before they even reached the wolf.
And now, the only thing he'd managed to do was draw its attention.
The creature's burning eyes fixed on him, and the world seemed to narrow until all Adam could see was that massive frame, every muscle rippling beneath its thick black fur. His grip tightened on the gun. He cocked it again with trembling hands, the metallic clack-clack loud in the silence.
"Come on…" he whispered to himself, forcing air into his lungs, though his chest already burned with the effort.
The wolf didn't wait.
It blurred forward, closing the distance in heartbeats, every stride pounding like thunder in Adam's ears. The ground shook with its weight. By the time Adam had raised the shotgun properly, the beast was already airborne, leaping with a force that split the night open.
He twisted his body desperately, and somehow, by reflex or sheer luck, he slipped just out of its full path. But not far enough.
A paw, wider than his chest, raked across him.
The claws carved into his skin like burning knives. Pain exploded down his torso as blood sprayed, hot and wet, staining his shirt in an instant. The force of the blow flung him sideways. He hit a tree back-first, the crack of impact reverberating through bone. Something snapped inside his chest. His vision went white, then black, then back again in a dizzy blur. The air was blasted out of him, leaving his lungs clawing uselessly for oxygen.
He slid down the trunk, his body screaming in every nerve. His ribs felt splintered, jagged knives inside him. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged pulls as blood dripped warm down his stomach.
Through the ringing in his ears, he heard it: heavy, deliberate footfalls, each one shaking the earth closer.
The wolf was coming.
Adam forced his head up. Through blurred vision, he saw it, towering, hulking, drool dripping from its jagged teeth. Its muzzle was soaked with blood, whether from soldiers or beasts, he didn't know. Its yellow eyes gleamed, locked on him with merciless intent.
"Not like this…" Adam coughed, blood flecking his lips. He tried to drag in a breath, his lungs screaming as he fought for air. His body wanted to curl up and give in, but something deeper kept him from surrendering, the same pull that had driven him into the forest in the first place. Curiosity, defiance, something he couldn't quite name.
His fingers brushed against the shotgun lying half-buried in the leaves beside him.
The wolf crouched, its massive shoulders lowering, its head angling forward. Adam could almost feel the heat of its breath from meters away. The beast was preparing to finish him, no hesitation, no mercy.
With every scrap of strength left, Adam pulled the gun into his lap. His arms trembled violently, too weak to steady the weight, but he lifted it anyway, barrel shaking toward the creature.
The wolf lunged.
The world slowed. Adam could hear the tearing of air as the beast's jaws opened, teeth glistening, aimed for his throat. His chest screamed in agony as he forced his finger onto the trigger. His vision swam, but he kept the barrel pointed up.
"This is it…" he thought, the words barely forming in his mind.
The jaws came closer. Closer.
The trigger gave way.
BOOM.
The forest swallowed the blast.
And then, silence.
A silence so deep, it rang louder than the gunshot. Adam's ears buzzed with the emptiness of it, his body frozen, his mind refusing to process what had just happened.
The wolf was on top of him. Or maybe it wasn't. He couldn't tell. His vision blurred to black at the edges, his breath coming in broken gasps. The world tilted, leaves and shadows swirling together.
Had he killed it? Had he missed?
The thought barely registered before the darkness closed in completely.
***
Aiva awoke with a scream.
Her silver eyes snapped open, wide and wild, and for a moment she didn't recognize the world around her. The soft curve of her dorm ceiling. The faint glow of the moon spilling across the floor. The quiet, muffled hum of crickets outside. It all seemed unreal, like waking up in the wrong life.
Her chest heaved, sweat plastering her hair to her temples. The cotton sheets clung damply to her body, twisted around her legs as though she'd been thrashing in her sleep. She sat upright, trembling, her breath rasping in shallow bursts.
It took her a long moment before she forced herself to move.
Her bare feet touched the cool wood of the floor, grounding her in the smallest way, and she rose shakily. The room felt too tight, too close, as if the shadows pressed in around her. She stumbled to her closet, yanked the door open with more force than she meant to, and rummaged through the clutter of shoes and folded clothes until her fingers brushed against smooth plastic.
A bottle of water.
She pulled it out and twisted the cap with trembling hands. The first gulp was desperate, almost choking her as the cold liquid rushed down her throat. She drank the whole bottle in a matter of seconds, the chill doing little to cool the feverish heat that clung to her body.
When it was empty, she dropped it carelessly to the floor. It rolled under her bed with a faint hollow clink, but she didn't care. She slid down against the closet wall, slumping onto the ground, her back pressed against the wood, her knees drawn tight to her chest.
Her breathing was ragged still, each exhale loud in the otherwise silent room.
The nightmare hadn't ended. Not really.
It never did.
It was always the same.
Chains. Heavy and cold, biting into her wrists and ankles, anchoring her to a chair that seemed to float in an endless black void. The silence was deafening, so complete that even her ragged screams sounded like they vanished before reaching anything at all.
She would shout, beg, strain against the shackles until her skin tore and her throat grew raw. Her pleas always met with the same unyielding nothingness.
Until she appeared.
Herself.
Another Aiva. The same face, the same tanned skin and hazel eyes, but wrong. A shadow in her expression, a tilt to her smile that spoke of something wicked buried beneath. She stood just beyond the circle of light that never seemed to end or begin, keys dangling from her fingers, swaying gently with a mocking rhythm.
The sound of the keys was always the first thing to pierce the silence. A soft, metallic chime that seemed to echo in the hollow of her chest.
Her other self never spoke. Not once.
She would only smile, that same cruel, knowing smile, as if she held all the answers Aiva didn't. As if freedom was a choice being withheld.
And then, just when Aiva's desperation reached its peak, the other her would turn. Walk away. Fade into the nothingness, the keys still glinting faintly until they, too, were gone.
Leaving her behind.
Always leaving her behind.
And the chains never loosened. Not even once.
Back in her dorm room, Aiva buried her face in her arms, muffling the frustrated sob that rose from her throat. The echo of that dream clung to her skin like smoke, seeping into every thought.
What did it mean? Why her?
She didn't know. She only knew the terror was real enough that waking offered no comfort.
No matter how many times she dreamed it, the ending was always the same:
Her screaming into the void.
Alone.
Meanwhile, Adam's vision swam. Every breath felt like dragging shards of glass through his chest. The black werewolf pressed down with a terrifying weight, claws raking against the bark of the tree as it tried to steady itself. Its jaw opened, a guttural snarl that rumbled deep in its throat, but even as it shifted, its body went slack.
Adam's arms trembled as he pushed. Inch by inch, he forced the massive creature off him. The black wolf tumbled, a horrifyingly beautiful silhouette of muscle and shadow, before collapsing completely. Smoke rose from its chest, curling upward in the cold night air, the silver shells from his shotgun having obliterated its heart.
Adam gasped, coughing blood, his body barely responding. Pain shot through his ribs with every shallow, ragged inhale. He tried to focus, to push himself upright, but the world tilted and spun. One eye was smeared with black blood, obscuring his vision, while the other squinted through the crimson haze.
He tasted metal and ash in his mouth. Each heartbeat felt like it could shatter his fragile, battered frame. His muscles quivered. His lungs screamed, refusing to draw the air his body desperately demanded.
And yet, even in that suffocating fog of agony, he saw her.
The white werewolf moved like liquid light, every motion precise and terrifyingly graceful. Even battered and injured, she carried an aura of dominance and lethal elegance. Eight feet tall, powerful and lean, her fur gleamed faintly under the faint moonlight breaking through the trees. Muscles rippled beneath the glossy coat as she stepped closer, her movements deliberate. Her eyes, sharp, intelligent, and piercing, locked onto him.
Adam's chest tightened. Every fiber of his being told him he should be terrified, that he had no chance. But a strange calm settled over him, mingled with the ache of his broken body.
Would she devour him?
Would it even matter?
His mind drifted, a fragmented haze of memories, regrets, and fleeting comfort. He thought of his mother, of the warmth she had given him, of the lessons she never got to see him live by. He hoped she would be proud. Maybe… maybe he was going to meet her soon.
He coughed again, bitter and thick with blood, and tasted the copper tang that filled his mouth. The world blurred further, sounds stretching and snapping around him. He could feel himself slipping away, muscles failing, lungs burning, consciousness fraying.
A breath. A flicker of white in the darkness. She approached, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving him. Even as his body gave way, he felt a strange gratitude. He had done the right thing, he had protected her, no matter the cost.
Another shallow, ragged inhale.
And then… darkness.
The world fell away. Cold, suffocating, infinite. For a long moment, he felt nothing but the pressure in his chest and the taste of blood. And then… nothing at all.