The night air was thick with tension as Lyra stumbled after Kaidën, her mind reeling from the past hour. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her heart hammering against her ribs. The eerie howl from the forest still echoed in her ears, fading into the distance, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was still watching.
"Where are we going?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Somewhere safe," Kaidën replied without looking back. His voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to it—like a blade hidden beneath silk. He moved effortlessly, weaving through the dense underbrush as if the forest were an extension of himself.
Lyra, on the other hand, was struggling to keep up. She had nearly tripped over a protruding root twice already, her boots sinking into the damp earth. "Safe?" she scoffed, breathless. "You dragged me out of town in the middle of the night, into the woods, and now we're running from… what exactly?"
Kaidën didn't answer.
Lyra gritted her teeth, her frustration mounting. "At least tell me who you are! And don't say your name like that explains anything—because it doesn't."
He finally stopped, turning to face her.
The moonlight carved sharp shadows across his face, making his already striking features look almost otherworldly. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his golden eyes unreadable.
"You don't have a choice, Lyra," he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "You need to come with me. They're coming."
Her stomach twisted.
"Who?" she whispered.
Kaidën exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as if weighing his words. "Not everyone in Raven's Peak is what they seem," he finally said. "And neither are you."
A chill wrapped around her ribs.
"You keep saying that," she shot back. "But that doesn't mean anything. You sound like you're reading from a bad horror script."
Something flickered in Kaidën's expression—frustration, maybe even amusement—but it was gone before she could be sure.
"You don't feel it yet, do you?" he asked.
Lyra frowned. "Feel what?"
Kaidën stepped closer, his presence impossibly steady, as if the wind itself bent around him.
"The pull. The hunger. The change."
Her pulse jumped. "I—"
She stopped short.
Because the truth was, she had felt something.
A strange energy curled beneath her skin. A restless itch in her veins, like something inside her was trying to wake up.
It had started recently—small things at first. A heightened awareness of sounds, a sharper sense of smell, the feeling that her body wasn't entirely hers anymore. But she had written it off as stress, exhaustion, maybe even paranoia.
Now, standing here in the dark, with Kaidën looking at her like he already knew, she felt exposed.
"You're insane," she whispered, taking a step back.
Kaidën tilted his head, his lips curling slightly—not quite a smile, not quite a smirk.
"Am I?"
Before she could respond, another howl shattered the silence.
This one was closer.
Too close.
A primal fear shot through Lyra's spine, setting her nerves on fire.
Kaidën's expression hardened. "We need to go. Now."
—
They moved quickly through the forest, Kaidën leading the way.
Lyra's lungs burned as she ran, branches clawing at her clothes, damp earth slipping beneath her boots. Every instinct screamed at her that whatever was out there—whatever was hunting her—was closing in.
The forest sloped downward, and suddenly, a structure emerged from the shadows.
A cabin.
It was old and worn, the wooden walls weathered by time and nature. The windows were dark, and the door hung slightly ajar, but it stood solid against the night.
Kaidën reached it first. He pushed open the door without hesitation. "Inside."
Lyra hesitated, glancing back toward the trees. The shadows seemed to move unnaturally, stretching and twisting.
Then, a deep, guttural growl rumbled through the darkness.
Lyra didn't think—she bolted inside.
Kaidën followed, shutting the door behind them and bolting it.
Inside, the cabin was sparse. A stone fireplace sat cold in the corner, its hearth layered with old ashes. A worn-out couch and a wooden table with mismatched chairs occupied the center of the room. Books, candles, and small trinkets lined the shelves, but Lyra didn't have time to take them in.
Kaidën turned to her, his golden eyes glowing slightly in the dim light.
"You're not safe here for long," he said.
Lyra crossed her arms, still trying to catch her breath. "Then why bring me here?"
"Because you needed to hear the truth before it's too late."
She let out a harsh laugh. "Truth?" She gestured wildly. "The truth is I woke up in the woods after blacking out, saw a giant wolf watching me, and now you're dragging me through the forest like we're in some kind of supernatural horror movie!"
Kaidën was silent for a long moment. Then, finally—
"You're not fully human, Lyra."
The words hit her harder than she expected.
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're changing," Kaidën said, stepping closer. "Your body, your instincts. You've felt it, haven't you?"
Lyra's throat tightened. "That's not—no. That's crazy."
Kaidën exhaled slowly. "You think blacking out tonight was random?" His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. "It wasn't. It was the beginning."
Lyra's stomach twisted.
"The beginning of what?" she asked, though she already knew she wouldn't like the answer.
Kaidën held her gaze. "Your awakening."
A chill settled deep in her bones.
"This isn't happening," she whispered.
But the way her skin prickled, the way the wind seemed to speak to her—she knew.
It already was.
And there was no turning back.