The night always began the same way for Ethan Cole — with the sound of breathing that wasn't his own.
It came from nowhere and everywhere, as though the dark itself exhaled. At first, he'd thought it was a trick of sleeplessness, that his overworked mind had begun inventing sounds to fill the silence. But lately, it had grown louder — rhythmic, alive, and matched to the beating of his heart.
Tonight, under the pale stretch of a full moon, the whispering returned.
Ethan sat upright in bed, sweat running down his neck, his breath hitching. The walls of his small apartment seemed to pulse with a faint, unseen vibration. Beyond his window, the trees along the ridge shivered under a wind that didn't touch the ground.
And then he heard it — the whisper again.
"Ethan…"
He froze.
That voice was neither male nor female — just a low echo that slid beneath his skin like a current. He swallowed hard and forced himself to move toward the window. The air outside was silver, almost too bright. The moon sat heavy above the pines, huge and swollen, its light flooding the night like water.
He pulled the curtain aside.
Down by the treeline, something moved.
At first, it looked like a trick of shadow. But then it stepped forward — four legs, a sleek shape, the unmistakable outline of a wolf.
Ethan's breath hitched. Wolves weren't supposed to be anywhere near Ravenwood. The last time anyone had seen one this far south was decades ago.
And yet there it was — still, watching him.
Its eyes glowed faintly gold.
Ethan blinked once. The creature didn't vanish. It tilted its head slightly, as if it recognized him. A long moment passed before it turned and disappeared back into the trees, the night swallowing its shape whole.
He stood there for a long time, staring into the dark.
---
Morning came like a pale confession.
Ethan trudged into the campus coffee shop with a hood pulled over his messy hair, eyes red from lack of sleep. He ordered his usual — black coffee, no sugar — and sank into a corner seat near the window.
His friend, Mark, dropped into the seat across from him.
"Dude, you look like death," Mark said, taking one look at him. "You studying all night again?"
Ethan rubbed his temples. "Something like that."
Mark grinned. "You really should get out more. Maybe meet a girl instead of staring at your laptop."
Ethan gave a humorless smile. "Right. I'll put that on my to-do list, right after 'stop hearing things in my sleep.'"
Mark laughed, but Ethan didn't.
The words slipped out before he could stop them. "Do you ever… hear things? At night?"
Mark blinked. "Like… what? Mice?"
Ethan hesitated. Never mind. "Forget it."
He sipped his coffee, trying to drown the memory of the whisper in caffeine. Outside, the sky was gray, the wind restless. He couldn't shake the image of those golden eyes staring back at him from the woods.
---
That evening, he took the long road home — the one that curved past the edge of the forest. His mind said it was reckless, but something deeper pulled him there. Curiosity? Fear? He couldn't tell.
The air was colder than usual. His breath came out in thin ghosts.
Somewhere between the streetlights, he heard the sound again — faint, quick footsteps following his own. He turned sharply. Nothing. The trees stood silent, but the hairs on his arms rose.
"Hello?"
His voice came out smaller than he intended.
No answer.
He kept walking, faster this time, until he saw it — a shadow moving between the trees. Then another.
Ethan's heartbeat quickened. He took a cautious step off the road, crunching leaves beneath his shoes. "Who's there?"
That's when he heard the growl. Low, guttural, and much too close.
He turned.
A wolf stood ten paces away — massive, dark-furred, its breath steaming in the cold. For a moment, all Ethan could do was stare, his mind refusing to believe what his eyes told him.
It took a slow step forward.
"Easy…" he whispered, backing away.
The creature's muscles tensed — and then, without warning, it lunged.
Ethan stumbled back, tripping over a root, his heart slamming against his ribs. He barely had time to react before something else collided with the wolf — a blur of motion, a figure knocking it aside.
He blinked in disbelief.
It wasn't another animal. It was a girl.
She moved with inhuman speed, striking the wolf's side, sending it sprawling. Then she turned toward Ethan, eyes burning with fierce light. "Run!" she shouted.
Ethan hesitated, frozen in place.
"Go!"
The wolf recovered and lunged again. The girl met it midair, the two of them crashing into the underbrush. The sounds that followed — growls, snarls, the crack of branches — made Ethan's blood run cold.
He took one last glance, then ran.
Branches whipped at his face, his lungs burned, his legs felt like lead. He didn't stop until he reached the edge of the woods and collapsed against a streetlight, gasping.
When he finally looked back, the forest was silent again.
---
He didn't sleep that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her — the girl with the glowing eyes and wild strength. And behind her, the wolf's fangs, the silver flash of the moonlight on its fur.
By dawn, his mind felt like a fever. He stared at his arm where the wolf's claw had grazed him. The skin was unbroken, yet faintly warm — pulsing beneath the surface.
Something had changed.
He couldn't explain it, but the world felt sharper, louder. He could hear the flutter of wings outside his window, smell the distant rain before it came.
And when he caught his reflection in the mirror, his own eyes seemed — just for a moment — to glint gold.