Kael Clark stopped at the rusted iron gate and let the camera hang loose against his chest. For a moment, he simply stared.
Crescent Lane Mansion rose before him like a thing that had never truly died. The house leaned slightly to one side, its stone walls cracked and darkened by age and weather. Windows gaped open like hollow eyes, watching him without blinking. Ivy crawled up the sides, thick and tangled, as if the building itself was trying to pull the earth closer and bury its secrets.
People in town said the house breathed at night.
They said lights moved where no power lines ran. They said screams came from inside, not loud ones, but the soft kind that slipped into your dreams and refused to leave. They said animals avoided the place. Even stray dogs crossed the street rather than walk past it.
Kael smiled faintly.
This was exactly why he was here.
He adjusted the strap of his camera and finally lifted it, turning on the small red recording light. The glow steadied him. It always did. The camera made things feel real, measurable. Proof instead of fear.
"Crescent Lane Mansion," he said quietly, keeping his voice low, almost respectful. "Abandoned for over forty years. Locals believe it's haunted. Tonight, we find out if the stories are real."
His voice shook, but not from fear. It was excitement. That deep pull in his chest he always felt before stepping into the unknown. The same pull that had made his channel grow faster than he ever expected. People liked that he went where others wouldn't.
Kael pushed the gate.
It screamed.
The sound cut through the night, sharp and loud, echoing down the empty street behind him. Kael froze, heart pounding, and glanced back. No lights turned on. No doors opened. Crescent Lane stayed silent.
He stepped through and let the gate swing shut behind him.
The yard was overgrown, grass reaching his knees in places. Dead leaves cracked beneath his boots. The air felt thick, heavy, and cold in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. Every breath tasted faintly metallic, like rust and old blood.
The front door stood half open, its wood splintered and warped.
Kael swallowed and walked inside.
The smell hit him first. Damp wood, mold, and something else. Something sour and sharp that made his stomach tighten. The hallway stretched ahead, narrow and dark. Torn wallpaper peeled from the walls. Old furniture lay broken and overturned, as if something large had moved through the house in anger.
The floor creaked loudly beneath his weight.
"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Just a house."
But houses didn't feel like this.
As he moved deeper inside, the air seemed to press against his skin. The silence was wrong, not empty but waiting. His camera caught faint dust drifting through the beam of his flashlight, floating like slow falling snow.
Then he heard it.
A sound so soft he almost missed it.
A whimper.
Kael stopped breathing.
He turned off the camera light and listened.
The sound came again. Weak. Shaking. Human.
Someone was alive in the house.
Fear rushed through him like ice water, but curiosity burned hotter. Every smart thought told him to leave, to call the police, to run. Instead, he tightened his grip on the camera and moved toward the staircase.
Each step groaned under his weight, long and drawn out, as if the house protested his presence. The whimper grew louder as he climbed, turning into uneven breathing mixed with quiet sobs.
At the top of the stairs, a long hallway stretched ahead. Most doors were broken or missing entirely. One door at the very end remained closed.
The sound came from behind it.
Kael reached for the knob. It was cold, colder than the air around it. His fingers trembled as he turned it and pushed the door open.
The room was bare except for chains bolted into the floor.
A woman knelt at the center of the room, wrists bound, shoulders slumped forward. Her skin looked pale under the faint moonlight leaking through a cracked window. Bruises ringed her wrists. Her long dark hair fell over her face like a curtain.
She lifted her head when she heard him.
Kael rushed forward without thinking. He dropped the camera and knelt beside her, hands shaking as he worked at the locks.
"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here. I'll get you out."
The chains resisted at first, rusted and stiff. His fingers slipped. Sweat rolled down his temple. Panic clawed at his chest as he imagined footsteps behind him, imagined being too slow.
Finally, the lock snapped open.
The chains fell away with a heavy clatter.
The woman swayed, almost collapsing. Kael reached out and caught her by the shoulders. His hand brushed her hair, pushing it gently aside so he could see her face.
Her eyes met his.
They glimmered in the dark, gold touched with red, glowing faintly like embers. Fear was there, yes, and relief, but also something else. Something ancient and sharp that made his breath hitch.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She nodded weakly. "I think so. Thank you."
The growl came from behind them.
Low. Deep. Hungry.
Kael turned slowly.
The werewolf stepped into the light.
It was massive, taller than any man, its body thick with muscle beneath dark fur. Its spine curved unnaturally, shoulders rolling as it moved. Yellow eyes locked onto Kael, burning with hunger. Long claws scraped against the floor as it advanced.
Kael grabbed the woman's hand. "Run."
The beast lunged.
Kael barely had time to move before something slammed into him. He crashed into the wall, pain exploding across his shoulder as claws ripped through his jacket and skin. The camera skidded across the floor, spinning.
The werewolf snarled and leapt again.
Its teeth closed around the left side of Kael's neck.
The pain was unbearable.
White hot agony tore through him, stealing his breath, his voice, his thoughts. Time slowed. He smelled wet fur and iron. He saw the beast's breath fog in the cold air.
Then something moved faster than thought.
The woman blurred.
One moment she was beside him. The next, she was airborne, slamming into the werewolf with impossible force. She caught it mid leap, twisted her body, and used its own weight to throw it across the room. The wall cracked when it hit.
She moved with smooth deadly grace, dodging claws, spinning, striking. Her strength was unreal. Her speed made the air scream.
Kael crawled backward, blood soaking his shirt. The werewolf tore itself free and charged him again.
It bit him a second time, deeper.
Kael screamed.
The woman struck.
She slammed the creature into the wall again and again, until it howled in pain. Then she sank her fangs into its neck. The motion was quick and precise. The werewolf convulsed, claws scraping uselessly against the floor, before collapsing in a heap.
Silence fell.
Kael collapsed to his knees.
Pain flooded him, then slowly faded, replaced by warmth. Something surged through his veins, spreading from his neck to his chest, his arms, his legs. His heart hammered. His vision blurred.
The woman knelt beside him, her glowing eyes searching his face.
"I have to save you," she whispered.
Before he could speak, she bit him.
Fire and ice tore through him at once. His senses exploded outward. He heard the house breathe. He smelled dust and blood and old stone. He felt the vibration of the walls, the weight of the night pressing in.
She pulled away sharply.
Her gaze dropped to the right side of his neck.
The birthmark glowed.
The sigil pulsed red, intricate lines twisting and shifting like something alive beneath his skin.
Her breath caught.
"No," she whispered. "It can't be."
Kael's eyes flew open.
Strength roared through him. Pain vanished. He pushed himself to his feet with ease, feeling lighter, sharper, stronger than ever before. The house felt small around him.
The sigil pulsed again, steady and slow, like a heartbeat.
Outside, howls rose.
Not one. Many.
Selene grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. "We must go. They will come for you."
Kael followed, heart pounding, power humming beneath his skin.
He did not know what he had become.
But the hunt had begun.