The forest pulsed around him — dark, alive, and hungry.
Ronan ran, stumbling through roots and fog, every bone in his body aching as the transformation burned deeper. Muscles strained. Skin split. His fingers were claws now, and his eyes burned with unnatural heat.
The wolf inside him paced.
"They're baiting you," it said.
"What?"
"This isn't random. That kid — the one who disappeared? That wasn't some old creature. That was a warning. A lure."
Ronan slowed, panting. "So what's hunting me?"
The answer came with a growl from the fog.
It wasn't just any creature.
It was a wolf.
But not like Ronan. Not like his kind.
This one was darker, bigger, its fur matted with blood. Its eyes gleamed red — not gold. Its jaw dripped, not with hunger… but with purpose.
It stepped out from the mist like it had been waiting.
Ronan froze.
"That's—"
"The Blood Wolf," the voice in his head hissed. "It's here for you."
The monster circled him slowly.
Not attacking. Not rushing. Stalking.
Ronan backed away.
"Why? Why me?"
The wolf inside him didn't answer right away.
Then, finally:
"…Because of what you are."
"What the hell am I?"
"Not now."
The Blood Wolf lunged.
Ronan flinched—but didn't need to. His inner wolf surged to the front, taking full control.
Everything blurred.
They clashed hard. Claw to claw. Fang to fang. The forest screamed under their battle — trees cracking, leaves burning with the heat of their fury.
But Ronan was weaker.
Still fresh. Still learning.
The Blood Wolf outmatched him in every way.
It wasn't trying to feed. It was trying to end him.
And just when the beast pinned him down, jaws open wide for the killing blow—
Another shape tore through the trees.
Another wolf.
This one gleamed silver in the moonlight, lean and powerful, wind swirling around it as if the air itself bent to its will.
It struck the Blood Wolf like a lightning bolt, throwing it backward.
The rogue howled, furious, and vanished into the trees.
Ronan lay gasping, body broken, the internal wolf barely holding him together.
The silver wolf approached. For a moment, Ronan thought it would finish him off too.
Instead… it shifted.
Bones snapped, fur shrank, legs lengthened—
Until a tall man stood before him.
Cool gray hair. Narrow eyes. And a familiar voice.
"Easy, Vale," he said, kneeling. "You're not dead yet."
Ronan blinked. "P-Professor… Lorne?"
Lorne smirked faintly.
"Well. Took you long enough to figure it out."
Hours Earlier — On Campus
Calla didn't know who else to trust. The note, the symbol, Ronan's name — it all pointed to something bigger.
So she did the only thing that made sense.
She ran to Professor Lorne's office, banging on the door after dark.
He opened it, blinking once — and then froze when he saw the envelope in her hand.
She gave it to him without a word.
He read it once.
Twice.
Then looked her dead in the eye and said:
"Where is Ronan right now?"
Now — In the Woods
Professor Lorne helped Ronan up, his hands surprisingly warm.
"You knew?" Ronan gasped.
"Of course I knew. I've been watching you since you set foot on this campus."
"You're a wolf too."
Lorne nodded. "Not like yours. I'm elemental. Wind-born. We're rare."
"What the hell was that thing?"
Lorne's face darkened. "A Blood Wolf. Ancient. Bred for a single purpose."
"To kill me?"
Lorne didn't answer.
The silence said enough.
Back in the Archive Basement
The wind knocked over the match in Calla's hand just as the lights flickered back on.
She stood alone — but shaken.
Something had changed.
She didn't know it yet, but what she'd delivered to Lorne wasn't just a clue.
It was a trigger.
The real hunt had just begun.