“No! No! No! No!” I jolted up from my bed, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my heart pounding in my chest. I blinked rapidly, trying to shake the images from my mind.
It was just a dream.
I looked around, my room coming into focus, the familiar sight of the posters on the wall, the pile of clothes tossed on the floor. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the rapid thump of my heartbeat begin to slow.
What was that?
I tried to recall the dream, but it was already slipping away like sand through my fingers.
All I could remember was running, the sensation of being chased, and the terrifying feeling of losing control. I shuddered and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
It’s not real.
I stood up and went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm my nerves.
As I wiped my face with a towel, I heard something-a noise that made me pause.
Muffled sounds, voices… no, laughter?
l opened my door, stepping quietly into the hallway. The sound was coming from Logan’s room. My heart sank, knowing immediately what it was.
Of course. Typical Logan.
The laughter grew louder, more feminine now. The unmistakable sounds of giggling and hushed voices, punctuated by Logan’s deep, playful tone. My stomach twisted in disgust, but not surprise. This was Logan- always the playboy, always with someone new. He never took anything seriously, especially not when it came to relationships.
I rolled my eyes, leaning against the wall for a moment? Why should I care? He could do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like it was my business.
Still, the noise grated on my nerves. The carefree fun. I clenched to my fist. I should be used to this by now right? Why was it hurting me? I know I used to have a crush on him but it doesn’t matter anymore. He is not someone I can be with. He’s…… Logan. He’s my stepbrother. He’s a werewolf, and now….. so am I.
I let out a deep breath, trying to push away the frustration I felt. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. I kept telling myself, but even I knew it wasn’t true.
I turned away from Logan’s door and headed downstairs. The house felt too quiet, almost like my own thoughts were louder because of it. I needed space, maybe some fresh air would help clear my head.
Once in the kitchen, I noticed the smell of coffee still lingering. Mom must have made some before leaving with Logan’s dad. I opened the fridge, not really sure what I wanted, but I grabbed some juice anyway. As I poured myself a glass and took a sip, my mind raced with everything that had happened.
I’m a werewolf now.
I leaned against the counter, closing my eyes for a second. What did that mean for me?
I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing, not when my life had changed so much. I was a werewolf now, and I didn’t understand what that meant. I needed to find out more.
Logan was busy, and his father wasn’t home.
That gave me the perfect opportunity. I knew Logan’s father might have information about werewolves. There had to be something useful in his room.
I drank the rest of my juice, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. I quietly went upstairs, careful not to make any noise as I passed Logan’s room. The laughter inside continued, so I knew he wouldn’t hear me.
I reached Logan’s father’s door. It was always locked, but I knew where he kept the key. I crouched down, lifted the rug in the hallway, and found the small silver key hidden underneath.
I took a deep breath and unlocked the door.
The room felt different from the rest of the house. It was darker and smelled of old books. I noticed a large bookshelf along the wall and headed straight for it.
I scanned the books, some about history, others about legends. One shelf had old, dusty books that looked like they hadn’t been touched in a long time. I grabbed one and opened it.
The pages were filled with strange symbols, drawings of wolves, and notes written by hand. It didn’t make sense to me, but I knew it was about werewolves.
I looked through the books, feeling excited but nervous. My fingers touched the spines until I found a leather-bound journal. It looked old but still good. I picked it up and opened it carefully.
The first page was dated June 16, 1991. My heart raced as I read the words:
“Today was my coronation as pack leader. I can’t believe it’s finally happening. My father led this pack for years, and now it’s my turn. I feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders, but I know I can do this.”
I leaned in closer, drawn to the words. The next lines talked about the ceremony, the pride he felt, and the bond with the pack. He wrote about the power of being a leader, but also the dangers that came with it.
I flipped through the pages, my curiosity growing. Each entry shared stories about the pack, the challenges they faced, and the rituals they did. Some pages had drawings of wolves, and others described the full moon nights when the pack would run together.
I flipped to the next page, my hands trembling a little. The date was August 8,
1991. I read the words slowly, feeling a chill run down my spine:
“I have failed my pack as their leader. I trusted someone I should not have, and now the Book of Eternity is gone. The book is very dangerous. Once it gets into the hands of the wrong person, it can destroy the whole world.”
My heart raced. What was the Book of Eternity? Why was it so important? I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was connected to my dreams and the danger I sensed.
I turned the page again, hoping for more answers. The writing became more frantic.
“I can’t believe I let this happen. The rival pack is gaining power. They want the book for themselves, and they’ll stop at nothing to get it. I have to find it before it’s too late.”
I quickly flipped through more pages. The entries were filled with notes about the rival pack and their plans. There were sketches of symbols that looked similar to the ones I saw in other books.
As I was about to drop the book, a small picture falls out and flutters to the floor. I pick it up and stare at it in shock. It is a photo of Logan’s father and mother, both smiling brightly. But what surprises me the most is that my dad is also in the picture.
My heart races. How do they know each other? I look closely at the photo, searching for answers. They all look so happy together, but my mind is racing with questions.
Mr. Castlefield knows my dad? What does this mean?