The night pulsed with an eerie stillness on Ethan's parents' porch, the shattered remains of his phone smoldering in his hand. WolfSnap's final howl had torn through the air before the device erupted in a burst of sparks and jagged glass, a shard slicing the side of his neck. Ethan hissed, pressing a hand to the stinging cut, blood warm against his fingers. His green eyes, usually glinting with charm, darkened with a primal edge as his werewolf senses flared. Then the air shifted—cold, metallic—and a perie alien materialized before him.
Its form shimmered like liquid shadow, edges blurring unnaturally, yellow eyes glowing with a predatory sheen—a creature born of the king's tales from Blackwood Forest. Before Ethan could react, its clawed hand shot out, clutching his throat in a vise-like grip. He choked, claws twitching beneath his skin, but the perie held him fast, its gaze boring into his. No words passed its lips—only a flood of alien thought seared through his mind, transmitted through those piercing eyes: You will be killed soon. The day when my both souls merge, I will have the power to kill you—soon The message burned, a chilling vow, then the perie alien vanished, dissolving into the night like smoke.
Ethan stumbled back, coughing hard, his throat raw. His hand flew to the scratch on his neck, pain flaring sharper than it should. Ava, he thought, sudden and unbidden. Her phone had WolfSnap too—if his burst, hers might've too. The king's warning clawed at him—they're here, hiding—and now this. He staggered off the porch, boots hitting the road, the small wound's sting growing wild, unnatural. His blood roared, bones cracking as the shift took him—fur rippled over his skin, green eyes glowing feral. A wolf now, he bolted, the pain fueling his speed, tearing through the streets toward Ava's house.
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Across town, Ava stood in her room, the wreckage of her phone scattered on the floor. The burst had been violent—WolfSnap's howl spiking into a shriek, yellow eyes flashing before glass and sparks flew, narrowly missing her. She wore a loose nightdress, soft and faded, her dark hair tangled, freckles stark against her flushed face. Pacing, she muttered to herself, voice sharp but childish in its frustration. "Stupid Ethan and his stupid app—ruining my night, breaking my phone! I should complain, get him fired, ugh, he's such a jerk!" Her arms flailed, a pout tugging her lips, her rant more tantrum than threat.
Outside, Ethan's wolf form slowed as he reached her open window. He crouched low, peering in, his glowing eyes catching her mid-tirade. In that moment, she looked small—cute, innocent, like a kid scolding a broken toy. His mind, still half-wild, softened. She's like a small child,he thought, a flicker of amusement cutting through the pain and panic. Her fire, even in anger, steadied him, the perie alien's threat fading to a dull hum. His neck throbbed less, the wound's sting easing as he watched her, a strange calm settling in.
Ava didn't see him. She huffed, kicking a pillow, then flopped onto her bed, still grumbling. Ethan lingered a moment longer, the wolf's tension unraveling. He turned, padding silently back into the night, his massive form melting into the shadows as he retraced his path home. By the time he reached the porch, he was human again, breathless but steadier, the perie alien's eyes still haunting him—but Ava's childish defiance lingering like a quiet balm.
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The next morning, at 6 o'clock sharp, Ava stood outside her house, a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. The air was crisp, dawn barely breaking, casting long shadows across the street. She'd dressed simply—jeans, a sweater, her dark hair tied back—ready for the village trip, though her gut churned with unease after last night's phone burst. She waited for Ethan and his mother, expecting the black car to roll up with Linda's warm smile to ease her nerves. But when the car pulled up, Ethan stepped out alone, and Ava's breath caught at the sight of him.
He was magnetic, a vision of clean-cut allure even in the dim morning light. Tall and poised, his dark hair was neatly swept back, every strand in place yet hinting at a natural, effortless grace. His green eyes gleamed with a sharp, captivating intensity, their usual playful spark tempered by a subtle, brooding depth. He wore a sleek black leather jacket, polished and perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, its shine catching the faint dawn glow. Beneath it, a crisp dark gray shirt hugged his lean torso, the fabric smooth and unwrinkled, accentuating his refined build. Dark jeans, impeccably fitted, flowed down to polished black boots that gleamed with a quiet confidence, their clean lines completing his striking silhouette. A faint, well-groomed stubble traced his chiseled jaw, adding just a touch of rugged charm to his otherwise pristine appearance—handsome in a way that drew the eye like a magnet, exuding both sophistication and an undeniable pull. The small scratch on his neck, red and raw, stood out against his flawless skin, a single imperfection that only heightened his enigmatic allure.
Ava's stomach dropped, worry flickering as she stepped forward. "Where's your mom?" she asked, voice tight, her wariness of Ethan's flirty edge spiking without Linda's presence.
Ethan's jaw clenched, his gaze flicking to her then away, those green eyes unreadable. "Get in the car," he said, voice low, almost strained. He didn't answer, just popped the passenger door open, his knuckles white on the wheel as he slid back inside.
Ava hesitated, her instincts screaming caution, but she climbed in, clutching her bag like a shield. Fear gnawed at her—Ethan alone, no Linda, and that damn app explosion still unexplained. She buckled in, her eyes darting to him as he started driving, the city fading into rolling hills. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until she couldn't take it anymore.
"You told me your mother would be here," she said, voice sharp, cutting through the quiet. "What happened?"
Ethan didn't respond, his grip tightening on the wheel, his handsome features hardening into a mask. His mind slipped into a flashback, the night crashing back—
Yesterday, 12:30 AM. The house had been still until Linda burst into Ethan's room, her frantic knocks shattering the calm. "Ethan!" she'd cried, voice trembling, eyes wide with panic. "Your father—he's burning up, something's wrong!" Ethan bolted after her, heart pounding, to find Tom slumped in bed, skin fever-hot, breath shallow. He'd checked the thermometer—104°F—and didn't waste a second, hauling his father into the car and speeding to the hospital. The doctor, a stern woman with tired eyes, had frowned at the readings. "It's an infection, but… unusual. We're admitting him, running tests." She couldn't pinpoint it, her uncertainty hanging heavy. Ethan's thoughts had snapped to the perie alien—its claws, its threat, the violent encounter. Was this its doing, an aftereffect creeping into his family? The scratch on his neck twinged as he wondered, dread coiling tight.
His mother had pulled him aside in the hospital corridor, her face pale but resolute. "You go to that village, Ethan. I can't come now—your father needs me here. You handle the orphanage, do everything you can." Her words were firm, leaving no room for argument, and he'd nodded, too shaken to push back.
Ava's voice jolted him back to the present. "Ethan, what's going on?" she pressed, her tone harder now, suspicion lacing it.
Suddenly he pulled the car to a stop near a small roadside store, the engine humming down to silence. Ava turned to him, her brow furrowed, confusion flickering in her dark eyes as she studied his tense, unreadable expression.
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To be continued...