There were so many things people didn't know about their own world... unsettling truths, hidden just beneath the surface, that even the brightest minds, the most renowned scientists, couldn't begin to explain. Phenomena so strange, so disturbing, that even when faced with undeniable proof, humanity still looked away. How many times had people seen videos circulating online, showing towering wolf-like figures, far larger than nature should allow? Or fleeting shadows, too fast to be human, yet far too clear to dismiss? And yet, every time, the reactions were always the same. Some would scream, "It's AI!" Others would wave it off with a shrug, "Obviously fake." Can we really blame them? No. Of course not. It's natural to reject the unexplainable. It's comforting to believe that everything has a logical, scientific, concrete explanation. Believing in the invisible means accepting fear as part of your life. And that fear most people would rather avoid it.
That was also true for Lucia Fenrir. A seventeen-year-old girl, completely normal... or so it seemed. Tall for her age, she stood at 5'8", with a slender, naturally graceful figure neither too thin nor too developed just enough to draw glances without stirring jealousy. Her short brown hair was always a bit messy no matter how hard she tried, and her hazel eyes were vivid, deep, almost too intense for a teenager. There was something indescribable about her a subtle charm, a mysterious aura that even her classmates couldn't quite define. But in truth, she lived a quiet, ordinary life.
Lucia lived in a small, peaceful town somewhere in the U.S. one of those places where everyone knows everyone else, and yet secrets still find ways to thrive. She lived with her parents, Carole and Jacob Fenrir, a happily married couple, loving and present. Their home was modest, medium-sized, but warm. No unnecessary luxury just enough to make the small family feel truly at home. A kitchen often filled with laughter, a living room lined with old books and overused cushions, and a bedroom that was all hers her cocoon, her refuge.
She was in her senior year of high school, just one year away from finally flying off to college... except she still had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. And strangely, that didn't stress her out much. Her parents had always been clear about it... "Take your time, Lucia. The choice you make might shape your entire life." And she'd taken that to heart. She refused to become one of those people stuck in a job they hated, despite years of brilliant studies. She wanted her future to mean something. To reflect who she truly was. Free, unpredictable... maybe even a little magical.
But what she didn't yet know, was that the very supernatural world she avoided like everyone else... was about to come knocking at her door. And once your eyes are open... you can never close them again.
𝑷𝑶𝑽 𝑳𝑼𝑪𝑰𝑨 đť‘𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑰𝑹
That dream again... It had been haunting me for years now, like an old film stuck on a loop in my head that refused to fade. Always the same scenario… a dark forest, silent, almost unreal. I walked without purpose, guided only by that creeping sense of fear that tight, twisting feeling in your gut that won't let go. And like every time, I heard a rustle somewhere to my right. I turned my head, breath short, eyes locked on a bush… and then, it appeared. That wolf. A massive beast, fur black as ink, with glowing red eyes like twin embers burning through the night. It leapt straight for my throat, fangs ready to rip me apart… And then I'd wake up. Screaming.
But tonight, something had changed. The setting was the same, the same forest, but it wasn't as dark anymore. It was bathed in a strange light not sunlight, no… it was artificial, like giant spotlights were shining through the trees, forming a path. And without really understanding why, I started walking. Slowly, almost drawn forward against my will. After what felt like ten minutes, I reached a massive building. So huge, so majestic, that Hogwarts would've looked like a shack in comparison. I stood there, speechless, completely captivated. But before I could take in any detail, it reappeared. The wolf. And true to form, it charged at me straight for my throat.
"ARHHH!!" I screamed, bolting upright in my bed, soaked in sweat, my breath caught in my chest. My hands clung to the blanket like it could somehow shield me from that recurring nightmare. A few seconds later, the door burst open and my parents rushed in. They wrapped their arms around me, whispering softly that everything was fine, that it was just a dream.
Yeah… just a dream. People would probably say I'm crazy. And maybe they'd be right. Who has the same nightmare every night for months? Who wakes up screaming loud enough to lose their voice? Me. And no matter how much I told myself it was nothing, that it would pass… deep down, I knew something was wrong. That something bigger was at play.
Eventually, the morning went on like usual. Still in my pajamas, eyes half-closed, I headed down to the kitchen. My dad was at the stove, focused on a growing stack of pancakes, while my mom was calmly pressing fresh oranges.
"Sorry about this morning..." I mumbled, a bit embarrassed, catching their attention. My dad walked over with a soft smile and placed his hand gently on my shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart… You know, I used to have dreams like yours when I was your age. Then one day, they just stopped." my dad said, his voice calm and reassuring. Exactly what I needed. I smiled back at him, feeling a little lighter.
I found myself at the table with a pancake on my plate, a glass of orange juice in my hand, and that cozy, familiar warmth around me. We talked about everything and nothing. Nothing special, but sometimes that's all it takes to feel at peace.
"Honey, you've got 30 minutes!" my mom suddenly warned. I glanced at the clock. 7:10. I started at 7:40. Crap!
I jumped up from my chair, flew up the stairs, and rushed into my room. I grabbed an outfit as fast as I could... a pair of slightly faded high-waisted jeans, a cream sweater just a little too big with a round neckline and long sleeves that hung a bit past my wrists, and a clean pair of white sneakers. Simple. Perfect for school.
Off to the bathroom. The hot water ran over my skin and felt like pure heaven. I couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief... I'd gone for a run yesterday, and my legs were still reminding me of it. The warmth eased every ache like an invisible hand brushing the pain away. After ten solid minutes, I stepped out, grabbed my toothbrush, a quick swipe of minty toothpaste, and done. No time for makeup today. Oh well we'd survive.
I headed back downstairs, grabbed my scooter keys, put on my helmet, and kissed both my parents on the cheek before heading out. A normal day awaited me. Or... at least I hoped so.
I hopped onto my matte red Bad Game scooter, a bit scratched up on the sides but still going strong, and started it up with a slightly whiny growl. The streets of our small town were still quiet at that hour just a few cars here and there, and some early morning cyclists battling the breeze. Luckily, school was only five minutes away a straight road lined with old trees and closed-up shops. The kind of route I could do with my eyes shut.
I arrived in front of the high school and parked in the section reserved for scooters and bikes, right by the main gate where other students were arriving on foot, by bike, or being dropped off by their parents. I had just taken off my helmet when a hand gently touched my shoulder. I flinched slightly and turned around.
"Yo Lucia! Ready for the massacre?" came a cheerful, familiar voice with a bright grin. Emma. My best friend. My personal ray of sunshine.
She wore slightly oversized denim overalls over a blue-and-white striped T-shirt, her blonde curls tied up into two messy mini-buns like always. Her purple backpack was covered in ridiculous pins. She had that eccentric but totally confident style, like she couldn't care less what anyone thought. And somehow, it suited her perfectly.
"Hey! Yeah, I studied like crazy. We've got this test, don't worry," I replied with a tired smile.
"You mean I've got this, and you're gonna wing it like usual," Emma said with a playful wink. Her tone was teasing but affectionate. I laughed softly, shrugging.
"Okay, maybe just a tiny bit of winging it… but like, controlled improvising," I replied, my gaze drifting slightly toward the school building.
We walked together toward the school entrance, the morning wind tousling our hair. I glanced at Emma, just a little longer than usual. I didn't know why, but I was feeling nostalgic. Maybe it was that weird dream still clinging to my mind, or maybe it was just one of those moments when you realize you don't always take the time to appreciate the people who really matter.
Emma... she was that kind of person who keeps smiling even when everything's going to hell. I still remembered that one time we took a road trip to a town three hours away. My scooter broke down, it was pouring rain, and we didn't have a single coin on us. And still, she stayed positive. We walked back, soaked to the bone, shivering all over, and the next day, of course, we were sick as dogs. But she just laughed and said, "Totally worth it. I got to spend more time with you." Who even says stuff like that? No one. Except her.
And me? Just an average girl, kind of lost, with too many nightmares and not enough self-confidence? I never really got what someone like her saw in me. But I was grateful. Really.
We got to class. Our classroom smelled like old whiteboard markers and overheated radiators. We took our usual seats, well... not exactly. I couldn't sit next to her anymore, not since that day we talked too much in history and good old Mr. Davis decided to separate us. Since then, he'd officially made it onto my blacklist. He'd taken away my only ally in that half-zombie classroom.
The test wasn't too bad. Multiple-choice questions on the Cold War, some short essays about the Cuban missile crisis. Nothing too terrifying. I finished in thirty minutes and walked up to hand in my paper. He gave me that look... you know, the one adults save for students they secretly find "insolent" but can't say it out loud. Mr. Davis hated me, and honestly? The feeling was mutual. But hey, like my mom always says, "You can't be the heroine of your story without a few side villains."
The next few hours dragged on like gum stuck to your shoe. I couldn't shake that dream out of my head. That massive building, the strange light, and that damn wolf... It all felt more real than ever. Like a memory, not a nightmare.
When the final bell rang, I let out a breath of relief and found Emma for lunch break.
"Alright, how much you wanna bet it's weird lasagna or plastic chicken again today?" Emma said in her usual dramatic movie-star voice.
"I'm not even hoping for a real meal at this point. I'd settle for an edible sandwich," I replied with a grin.
We headed to the cafeteria. The smell that greeted us was... let's say, questionable. A blend of lukewarm mashed potatoes, overly melted cheese, and a dash of school-wide despair.
"I'm pretty sure this is melted plastic with ketchup," Emma whispered, eyeing her tray with a grimace.
"Shhh, they might hear us and serve something worse tomorrow," I joked, scanning the room for an open seat.
And despite the suspicious food, the noise, the clattering trays, and the slightly too-loud laughter... I was okay. With her. A normal moment...
After an hour of eating and chatting about everything and nothing teachers, gossip, the usual we went back to class, and I swear time just stopped. You know those moments when you check the clock, it's 2:01, you zone out for what feels like half an hour, and then it's 2:02 when you look again? Yeah. And of course, to make it worse, it was Davis's class. Anyway, after what felt like a two-week-long day, I finally caught up with Emma in front of the school gate. She was waiting, leaning against the low wall, earbuds around her neck and her bag at her feet, just like always.
"Let's get out of here before Davis finds a reason to hold us back," I said with a laugh, grabbing my helmet from my scooter's trunk and handing her hers. She answered with that little sideways grin of hers.
"Are you reading my mind or something?" she chuckled, fitting the helmet on her head with that cheerful energy she always had. The kind that might be annoying if it weren't Emma.
A few minutes later, after weaving between cars and climbing the gentle hill up to my neighborhood, I parked the scooter in its usual spot, right beside the flower beds my mom insisted on keeping alive. No one was home, as expected my parents were still at work so we headed straight to my room without even dropping our bags at the door.
"So, what should we do?" I asked, flopping down on my bed, hands behind my head, watching Emma, who had stopped in the middle of the room with a finger thoughtfully tapping her chin.
"Hmm... what if we watch the last season of Vampire Diaries?" she suggested, eyes lighting up like a kid in front of a Christmas window.
I smiled, amused. Of course she'd say that. It was her favorite show. Not really my thing I was more The Witcher or Shadow and Bone but hey, I could let her have this one. So I turned on the TV, opened up Amazon Prime, found season 8, and we settled onto the bed, side by side, wrapped in the same blanket.
As usual, Emma couldn't stay quiet for more than five minutes in a row, but weirdly, it never bothered me.
"God... Stefan is so hot, right? Can you imagine if they were real? Vampires, werewolves, all of it? That'd be crazy, huh? Do you believe in that kind of stuff, Lucia?" she asked, giving me that dreamy look, stars in her eyes.
I let out a little laugh as I adjusted the blanket over my legs. Vampires? Werewolves? Seriously? I wanted to tell her all that was just nonsense, made-up stories to distract us from how boring real life could be and that sometimes, the scariest monsters were humans.
"Stop dreaming, Emma... of course that stuff doesn't exist. Especially not sexy vampires like Stefan," I replied with a soft laugh, my voice a little ironic but not mean.
"Well I believe, okay? Maybe not the hot vampires part, but the weird stuff, yeah. I don't know... I just feel it," she said, pouting slightly and crossing her arms over her chest.
I shook my head, smiling at her eternal optimism that sometimes teetered on the edge of total naivety. We kept watching until about three in the morning, and even though I was starting to nod off and barely following the plot anymore, I knew she was crushed about her favorite character dying. She had that sad, sulky look on her face, arms crossed, eyes all gloomy so I pulled her close and rested her head on my shoulder.
"It's okay... it's just a show," I whispered softly, even though I knew that for her, it was never just a show.
Eventually, we fell asleep together, completely exhausted, me with the lingering thought that I really needed to be in shape tomorrow because we were leaving for a family weekend. But sleep wasn't kind… As soon as I closed my eyes, I knew I was back in that damn forest.
Only this time, everything was engulfed in complete darkness. No strange light, no hanging bulbs like last time, nothing. Just blackness, the dampness of dead leaves beneath my bare feet, and that icy sensation against my skin. And he was there. The wolf. Right in front of me. Still. Massive. Dark. But this time… his eyes weren't red. They were brown. A deep brown, almost human. Just like mine. A violent shiver ran down my spine.
The wolf growled low, threatening and I didn't think. My body moved on its own, I spun around and ran like my life depended on it. Except this time, it really felt like it did. Every breath hurt more than the last, my legs burned, but I kept running, trees flashing past on either side, branches whipping my arms. Behind me, I could hear him. He wasn't chasing me… not really. He was following me, calmly, as if he knew I'd eventually fall.
And that's exactly what happened.
My foot slipped on a root, my body hit the ground with a dull thud, and when I looked up, the wolf was there. Right in front of me. Just a few inches away. I didn't even have time to scream. He pounced… and his jaws closed around my throat… The pain was unbearable… not like a dream, but like an actual wolf was tearing into me. Excruciating agony, blood pouring from my mouth, and then...
CRACK
I shot up screaming, gasping for air, my heart blazing. It felt like my lungs refused to work, like the air wouldn't go in. My whole body trembled like a leaf, and I couldn't tell dream from reality anymore. My bed, my sheets everything felt hostile, like this room I'd always known was trying to suffocate me. I hit the mattress, over and over, panicked, disoriented, yelling like something was going to leap at my throat for real. That's when Emma woke up.
"Lucia?! Lucia, what's happening?!" she cried out, panicked, her voice rough from sleep but full of worry. She sat up instantly, her long brown hair a tangled mess, falling over her shoulders like a curtain.
But instead of bombarding me with questions or freaking out, she did something no friend would've thought to do in that moment…
She hugged me.
Without hesitation, she pulled me into her arms and ran a hand gently through my hair, like a big sister or a mom would. My face pressed against the oversized t-shirt she wore to sleep.
"It's okay now… you're safe. I'm here, alright?" she whispered, her voice low, almost melodic, with a tenderness I hadn't earned.
I clung to her, ashamed, vulnerable. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I couldn't hold them back. I felt like a five-year-old. Part of me wanted to apologize, to hide, to bury myself under the covers and never come out again. But Emma didn't say a single hurtful word. No teasing. Not even a trace of judgment in her eyes.
And that's what touched me the most.
After a few minutes nestled in her arms, soothed by her warmth and that comforting scent of vanilla and laundry, my heart finally started to calm down. The trembling slowed, and I managed to take a deep breath. Still, pulling away from that embrace hurt, like I was leaving behind a shield against something invisible. But I sat up slowly, reluctantly putting distance between us, my eyes locked onto hers that never looked away.
"Lucia… what happened to you? You can talk to me, I'm your best friend," she said gently, her voice full of real concern not pity, just that quiet look that said I'm here, I want to understand, as she took my hand in hers. I lowered my gaze, feeling my throat tighten again.
"I... I didn't want to worry you... so I didn't say anything," I murmured, gripping her fingers tighter, like I was holding onto an anchor.
"Didn't say what?" she asked, softly lifting my chin with her fingertips to make me look at her. Her touch was gentle but firm, and I couldn't do anything but obey that intense gaze.
"For the past few months… I keep having the same nightmare. Over and over again... I talked to therapists, but every time, it's the same answer. They say it's just in my head, that it's nothing, that I shouldn't worry..." I explained, my voice trembling, tears rising again as I nervously wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand.
"Lucia… you should've told me. I'm your friend. I could've supported you, listened, been there, dammit..." Emma replied, her smile sad and tender at once, letting go of my chin to rest her hand on my shoulder.
"I… I'm sorry, Emma. Thank you for being my friend..." I breathed, keeping her hand against my chest, my teary gaze locked with hers, a sincere smile slowly forming on my lips despite the exhaustion.
"I should be the one thanking you for being my friend, dummy… Before you, everyone saw me as the annoying girl the one who talked too much, too optimistic, too nice… Not the type to party and flirt, not the cool one, you know? I just wanted a peaceful life, no drama. And so… people rejected me. All of them… until the day I met you," Emma said, her voice cracking a little at the end, and I stared at her, deeply moved by what she'd just shared. She had told me a version of that story before, but never like this. Not with this tone. Not with a wound still so raw.
We sat there in silence for a while, fingers entwined and hearts a little heavy. Then the door to my room creaked open, revealing my parents, still in yesterday's clothes. They must have come home late, too tired to notice my screaming. Usually, they'd have rushed up… but this time, they must've been sleeping like the dead.
After a few reassuring words and a worried look from my mom, everyone headed downstairs for breakfast. The atmosphere was strange, a mix of leftover tension and forced normalcy. Sitting at the table with Emma beside me, I slowly nibbled on my croissant while my thoughts kept returning to that forest, that wolf, and those eyes.
"Sweetheart, you should start getting ready and pack your suitcase," my mom said calmly, stacking the bowls into the dishwasher. I nodded, but before I could get up, Emma looked at me with teary eyes, and without warning, she leapt at me, rubbing her cheek against mine like a child.
"Lucia! I'm gonna miss you! I don't even know if I'll survive a whole day without you!" she cried, laughing and sniffling at the same time, making everyone in the room burst into laughter including me.
After long goodbyes, hugs, and little tender gestures, she finally left, turning her head back at least ten times to wave at me from the door, and I went off to get ready. A hot shower, a few clothes packed in my suitcase, my charger, headphones, journal… once everything was ready, it was finally time to leave. We loaded the bags into the trunk, my parents double-checked we hadn't forgotten anything, and we got in the car to hit the road.
Direction ? Brooklyn.
Lately, it had been hot, so Brooklyn with its beach, its vibrant atmosphere, and its lively streets seemed like the perfect place to unwind. But it was far. Very far. Far enough that we had to drive almost the entire day. Thankfully, with my laptop and a bit of signal, I'd been able to keep watching The Witcher quietly in the back seat, earbuds glued to my ears.
But more than ten hours later, when I finally looked up from my screen, I noticed the sky had changed dramatically. From a brilliant blue, it had turned gray, threatening. It was pouring buckets, and a storm rumbled so loud it felt like the sky was going to split open. The windshield wipers were swiping frantically, and even though the cabin was dry, I felt a tight knot of anxiety building in my chest.
"Of course... had to happen now. Just when we're headed to Brooklyn, the weather decides to go to hell," grumbled my dad, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, eyes locked on the soaked road ahead.
I didn't say a word, but my whole body was tense. A strange unease had taken hold of me. The storm scared me, yes, but it was more than that. My instincts were screaming. Urging me to say something, to make him stop the car. Telling me that driving 90 km/h on a road this slick was a very, very bad idea.
And I had no idea why… but I was certain something was going to happen.
"Dad... maybe we should take a break? Just wait a little, until the weather calms down," I suggested gently, though my voice was tight, my eyes fixed on the sheets of water lashing the windows. My instincts kept pounding in my chest like a war drum ready to explode.
My dad turned his head slightly toward me, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, probably about to respond with one of his usual lines like don't worry, I've got this. But he never had time to finish what he was going to say. Because at that very instant, in the hazy beam of the headlights, a massive trunk appeared in the middle of the road. A tree. Huge. Uprooted. Invisible just seconds earlier because of the rain.
"DAD!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice cutting through the cabin like a survival cry high-pitched, panicked, desperate as his face froze, his eyes returning to the road… but it was too late.
He slammed on the brakes. A brutal, instinctive move. But the car was already going 90 km/h, and the road was way too slick, the soaked pavement turned into a skating rink. The tires screamed against the asphalt, the chassis shook, everything happened too fast… or too slow I can't even tell anymore. Then came the impact.
A sound of metal being crushed. A dry, terrifying explosion. The car crashed straight into the tree with a monstrous noise, the hood crumpling like a soda can under a boot, the windshield shattering into a rain of razor-sharp glass. My head slammed back into the headrest, my body thrown forward against the seatbelt, and for a split second, I thought my lungs had imploded. I couldn't breathe.
And then, the fire.
The engine, with a dying roar, caught fire. Flames burst from under the hood red, furious spreading like wildfire. The air filled with the stench of burning plastic, melted rubber, and hot gasoline. The heat surged instantly, stifling, suffocating. Flames began licking at the doors, and I felt pure panic take over. Screaming. My mom. My dad. Me. A cacophony of cries, sobs, and fire.
"Dad!!! Mom!!!" I screamed until my voice cracked, struggling to undo my seatbelt, my hands shaking, bloodied. The sound of fire those roaring flames like a beast drowned out everything, distorting reality. My skin prickled all over, an unbearable heat pressing against my right leg… Was I on fire? I didn't know. My brain had switched into survival mode.
Then, slowly, my shaking subsided. The fire felt distant now, like my body wasn't really reacting anymore. My breathing was short, erratic, wheezing. And then, as I glanced down almost instinctively, I saw it. The thing that literally stole the air from my lungs. A metal bar had pierced through my stomach. It was just there, stuck inside me, red with my own blood, and the pain followed a heartbeat later terrifyingly delayed. A scorching, acidic wave of agony that tore a strangled scream from me.
My hands gripped the iron rod, trembling, slippery, but a fresh jolt of pain shook me. I felt something rise in my throat. I opened my mouth and vomited warm blood that splattered over my knees, my arms, my torn shirt. The thick, metallic taste filled my mouth, half-choking me, and I coughed again and again, until streaks of it ran down my lips.
My breathing quickened, my heart pounded so hard I felt it in my temples, and my vision blurred. Everything was spinning. I was cold. Shivering, even though the car was burning up. My pants were soaked with blood, my legs numb, and each heartbeat pulsed new pain around the metal lodged deep in my gut. It was unbearable…
I turned my head weakly toward the front seats, gasping, half-choking on my own gurgles. Mom… Dad… They weren't moving. My dad's face was bloodied, his head resting on the steering wheel. My mom… her neck was twisted at a wrong angle, her eyes half-open, unmoving. No response. No sign of life. Just silence between the crackling fire and the sinister hiss of electrics dying inside the disintegrating car.
I reached a trembling hand toward them, weakly, aimlessly, and whispered,
"Mom… Dad…" my voice barely audible. I stretched my hand toward the front, but my fingers only found empty space. My mouth was full of blood, my lips split, jaw aching, my breath whistling like my lungs had holes in them. And my eyes slowly closed, unable to fight the cold, the pain, that endless feeling of falling…
The light turned white, then black. My thoughts blurred into a fog of images and sounds. I thought I saw the wolf's eyes through the shattered window. Still. Watching. Patient. Its gaze glowed in the night, and yet… it looked calm. Almost… satisfied.
And then, nothing.
A total void. Black. Silent. Cold.