Chapter One: The Girl Who Shouldn't Exist
The night was too quiet. Too damn quiet.
Elena pressed her palms against the cracked window frame of her bedroom, staring out at the endless woods that bordered her town like a wall of shadows. The forest had always been alive—rustling leaves, snapping twigs, the occasional howl in the distance. But tonight, it was silent. Not even the crickets dared to sing.
She hated that silence. It reminded her of everything she wasn't.
Her aunt used to say she was "fragile," a word that wrapped around her like a curse. Fragile bones, fragile heart, fragile dreams. She wasn't like the others in her village—strong, fast, full of fire. She got sick too easily, tripped too often, and fainted more times than she wanted to admit. People looked at her with a kind of pity that made her skin burn.
But lately, something else had been happening. Strange things.
Like the time she fell by the riverbank and scraped her knee open—she'd watched the skin knit itself back together in seconds. Or when she'd gotten angry last week, really angry, and the glass of water in her hand had shattered without her even touching it.
She hadn't told anyone. Who would believe her?
"Elena!" her aunt's voice cut through the silence, sharp and impatient. "Come help with the herbs before the storm starts."
Elena sighed, pushing the window closed. She turned, her thin nightgown brushing her legs as she walked down the creaky wooden stairs. The small cottage smelled of dried sage and damp earth.
Her aunt was by the table, chopping roots with quick, precise movements. "You've been staring into the woods again," she said without looking up.
"I thought I heard something," Elena lied.
Her aunt's knife paused. For a moment, the only sound was the thud of rain beginning to tap against the roof. Then she said, quietly, "Stay away from the forest tonight. Promise me."
Elena frowned. "Why? What's in there?"
But her aunt only pressed her lips together, as if she'd already said too much.
---
Later that night, Elena couldn't sleep. The storm had grown stronger, thunder shaking the windows, lightning flashing against the walls. She tossed and turned, her chest tight with restlessness. Something was pulling at her—an invisible thread tugging her toward the forest.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She slipped out of bed, threw on her cloak, and pushed the back door open.
The rain soaked her instantly, but she barely felt it. The pull was stronger now, almost like a voice whispering inside her head: Come.
Her feet carried her to the edge of the trees. And that's when she saw him.
A man—or at least he looked like a man—stood beneath the twisted branches, his eyes glowing a faint amber even through the darkness. His hair was damp, plastered to his forehead, his shirt torn at the shoulder as though he'd been fighting something.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low, rough like gravel.
Elena's breath caught. She should have run. Every instinct screamed at her to go back, but her body wouldn't move. "Who… who are you?"
The man stepped closer, rain dripping from his jawline. His gaze swept over her like he was searching for something. "You feel it, don't you? The pull."
Her stomach tightened. "What are you talking about?"
Before he could answer, a howl ripped through the night. Not the distant kind she sometimes heard from the safety of her window, but close. Too close.
The man's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. Then he looked back at her, urgency flashing in his expression. "Run. Now."
"I—"
But she didn't finish, because suddenly, something crashed through the trees behind him—a massive shape, fur bristling, teeth glinting in the lightning. A wolf. But not just a wolf. Bigger, darker, its eyes burning red.
Her eyes shone in disbelief, all her life she hasn't seen such creature before.
She's only heard of them in stories. Stories she believed was mythical and untrue, but right now she felt like she was dreaming, this wild Creature was before her.
She wasn't really sure what it was but she believed it was a WEREWOLF...
The stranger moved fast, shoving her back. "Go!"
Elena stumbled, heart hammering in her chest. The ground was slippery with mud, the rain blinding her. She heard the snarl, the clash of claws, and the man's grunt as he collided with the beast.
She should have run. She tried. But something inside her rooted her to the ground, a force she couldn't explain. Her hands shook as she lifted them, and for a split second, she swore she felt power humming beneath her skin.
The wolf turned its head toward her, lips curled back in a snarl. And just as it lunged—
The world went white.
A crack of lightning struck between them, exploding the ground with such force that both the wolf and the man were thrown back. Elena fell to her knees, gasping, the taste of metal sharp on her tongue.
When the smoke cleared, the wolf was gone. So was the man.
But the mark on her wrist wasn't.
A thin, glowing symbol, shaped like a crescent moon, burned against her skin.
Elena stared at it, shivering. She didn't understand what had just happened. But one thing was certain—
Her life would never be the same again.