The grave was shallow, but it was enough. The two wolves stood in silence, their breaths misting in the cold night air, the scent of freshly turned earth mixing with the lingering tang of blood. Neither spoke as they shifted back, reaching for their clothes.
Tolu tugged his trousers on, his hands moving slower than usual. His shirt clung damp against his skin, streaked with dirt and blood, but he didn't care. Ore, buttoning up her blouse, kept stealing glances at him. His face was blank, but the weight in his eyes was clear.
When he finally stood upright, Ore stepped closer, slipping her arms around him. Her embrace was warm, steady—an anchor against the storm she could feel inside him. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice almost drowned by the rain still dripping from the leaves above.
Tolu didn't answer right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the mound of dirt at their feet. The silence stretched, heavy, before he finally murmured, "I don't know."
Ore's chest tightened. She held him for a moment longer, then eased back, searching his face. His jaw was clenched, his eyes distant—like he was here, but not really. "Let me walk you home," she offered gently, wanting to keep him close.
But Tolu shook his head. His voice was quiet, but firm. "I'm not going home. I… I wanna take a walk. Clear my head."
He turned and began to walk away, shoulders slouched, steps slow but certain. Ore stood where she was, watching him until his figure faded into the shadows of the trees. Her stomach twisted with worry. Something about the way he moved—detached, almost hollow—left her uneasy.
After a long breath, she finally turned and made her own way back toward town, her thoughts heavy with fear for him.
That night, both carried their silence home, but neither could shake the feeling that the real storm hadn't even started yet.
---
Ore pushed open the heavy study door without knocking, her breath still uneven from rushing home. The smell of old paper and burning wood from the fireplace filled the room. Her father sat behind his large desk, a leather-bound book open in front of him, reading glasses perched low on his nose.
He looked up immediately, catching the worry etched on her face. His eyes narrowed, the book lowering just slightly in his hands.
"What did you do this time?" he asked, his tone calm but edged with suspicion, as though he already expected the answer to be nothing good.
Ore froze in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the doorknob. For a second, she thought about lying, brushing it off, but the weight of the night pressed down on her chest. Her silence stretched too long, and her father closed the book with a quiet thump, his gaze sharpening.
---
The night air was cool, brushing against Tolu's skin as he wandered aimlessly along the quiet road. His bike had been left behind; he didn't care. Each step felt heavy, not from exhaustion, but from the weight of the images replaying in his mind—the fight, the glowing eyes, the blood pooling around the forward's body.
"I didn't kill him… right?" he muttered under his breath, but even his own voice sounded uncertain.
He staggered to a stop beneath a tall, crooked tree. That was when it hit him. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his skull. His vision blurred, then fractured like shattered glass. Flashes began to assault his mind—snarling wolves tearing into flesh, screams that weren't his, claws slashing through the dark. So much blood. Too much blood.
He clutched his head and dropped to his knees. "No… stop… what is this?!"
The pain grew unbearable. His body jerked violently, bones snapping and reforming under his skin. He screamed, but the sound warped into a guttural growl. His back arched, muscles tearing and knitting again as fur burst forth. His fingers curled into claws that dug deep into the dirt.
In moments, Tolu was no longer a boy but a wolf, his blue eyes glowing fiercely in the dark. He staggered once, then bolted forward into the forest, his paws pounding the earth as if trying to outrun the visions still clawing through his mind.
Branches snapped in his wake, his growls echoing into the night as he ran—not knowing where, not caring. All he knew was that something inside him was breaking free… something he couldn't control.
--
The forest rustled with frantic movement as Ore and her father followed Tolu's wild scent. It was thick, sharp, laced with fear and rage. They broke through the trees just as a blur of fur lunged at them, claws stretched forward and fangs glinting under the moonlight.
"Stay back!" Ore gasped, but her father didn't flinch.
With a single motion, his arm lashed out. CRACK! The force sent Tolu flying sideways into a tree trunk, the impact echoing through the night. He slid down to the ground, growling, his glowing blue eyes locking onto them.
"Sit, child."
The words left Ore's father's mouth like thunder, heavy with centuries of command. It wasn't just speech—it was dominance, pure and raw. Tolu whimpered involuntarily, his growls faltering as he lowered himself, body trembling but unable to resist.
Ore's chest tightened as she watched. He looks so broken…
She whispered, "Dad, is this… happening because of the mark?" She couldn't bring herself to say it fully. Her throat burned with shame.
Her father's eyes glowed brighter, crimson and unyielding. "No. It's not the mark. But that doesn't mean you're off the hook." His voice was steel. He shot her a glare sharp enough to pierce through her. "I have spoiled you far too much."
Before Ore could speak, he blurred. One instant, he was standing; the next, he was in front of Tolu, his speed defying the eye. His hands clamped firmly on either side of Tolu's head, forcing their gazes to lock.
Tolu snarled, trying to resist, but his blue eyes quivered under the crushing dominance. The elder wolf's own crimson glare burned into him, searching deeper—past his flesh, past his rage, straight into his soul.
Seconds stretched like hours. Ore's breath caught, afraid of what her father might see.
Finally, his expression shifted. The fury melted into something darker… fear mixed with awe. His lips parted slightly, and in a low, shaken whisper, he muttered—
"...An ancient?"
The word lingered in the cold night air, heavier than any growl.