The full moon hung low over the pines of Black Hollow, heavy and golden, like an omen. The forest pulsed with a strange rhythm—half wind, half heartbeat. Autumn leaves rustled under Ava Marlowe's boots as she trudged down the narrow path leading from her family's old cabin, unaware that tonight would end her ordinary life forever.
She'd returned to Black Hollow for peace. After her mother's death, grief had carved a hollow inside her, one no city lights or crowded subways could fill. But the mountains, the silence—they called to her blood in a way she couldn't explain.
The locals whispered about strange things happening in the woods. Ava didn't believe in stories. Not yet.
As she reached the clearing by the lake, the air shifted. Sharp. Electric.
That's when she saw him.
Tall. Lean. Shirtless in the moonlight like a wild thing carved from shadow and flame. His eyes caught hers from across the water—unnaturally bright. Silver.
Her breath caught. Something primal stirred in her chest, ancient and wordless. She should have turned. Should have run. Instead, she stepped closer.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said, voice low, deep as the earth.
"I could say the same," she replied, heart hammering.
He took a step toward her. "The woods aren't safe tonight."
Ava tilted her head. "Why? Because of the stories?"
"Because they're true."
She laughed—soft, uncertain. "You don't look like a ghost story."
He didn't smile. "I'm not. I'm worse."
The wind picked up, whipping his dark hair around his face. Behind him, the lake rippled unnaturally. She noticed now how still the trees had gone. How the night had paused.
"Who are you?" she asked, unable to tear her eyes from him.
"Callum," he said. "And you're Ava."
She froze. "How do you know my name?"
"Because I've been waiting for you," he murmured, stepping even closer. "You don't know it yet, but this place—this forest—it's part of you. Just like I am."
Then the howl came. Not like a dog or a wolf. This was something deeper. Older.
And Callum changed.
Not all at once. His eyes first—silver turning to molten gold. His spine rippled beneath skin. He fell to one knee, panting, fighting something inside him.
"Run," he growled through gritted teeth. "Ava, run!"
But she didn't.
She watched him shift—bone snapping, fur erupting, beast emerging. And yet somehow, she wasn't afraid. Because as impossible as it was, as the monstrous shape of Callum rose beneath the moon, Ava felt something deep in her chest twist like fate.
She knew him.
And she didn't want to run.