LOGINHAYLEY“Remind me why I’m volunteering for this again?” “Because I'm volunteering,” Corey says, lacing her fingers through mine as she stares ahead anxiously, like she's searching for someone. “And as my best friend, you’ve decided to come volunteer with me.” “More like you dragged me out here because Harold was volunteering.” “Goodness me.” Corey ducks a little as we stand in line, trying to shield her tall frame. “Can you not say his name out loud when he's only a few steps away from here?” “I'm pretty sure he's not the only one bearing Harold in this crowd—” “Oh, for God's sake, Hayley!” Corey whisper-yells. “Alright, my bad.” I chuckle. The queue of volunteering students for preparation of the Formal this year is the longest I've ever seen. Never one for it, Corey has not only taken a sudden interest in the activity this year, but she's also dragged me along—just so she can hang with Harold. Watching the both of them exchange cheeky glances had me grinning minutes ago, but
NARRATIVE POV A small breeze swept through the neighborhood as Sheriff McKenna stepped down from his vehicle. He took out the card from the brown wallet and read out the address again: 1388 Carrion Drive, Greystone, CA 09101 — Residence of Mr Gregory Hale.A burgundy cottage stood in front of the Sheriff, its lawn choked with overgrown patches. A rusty mailbox marked the entrance to the house, the open lid rattling softly in the soft wind.The rest of the neighborhood had similar houses, each separated by winter-struck trees with withering branches. Sheriff McKenna dropped the card back into the wallet and took a step towards the cottage. Stray leaves crunched under his feet as he pushed open the low fence, walked up to the house, and knocked on the door. But there was no response. After knocking a few more times, the Sheriff was almost certain the house was empty… until he heard loud grunts emanating from behind the house. Laborious, hard grunts. Like clockwork, his muscles har
HAYLEY If anyone else had walked in on me reading a book on Lycanthropy Folklore, I'd be drowning in questions about it by now. But it was Corey who found me by the library, so I knew I was safe. She probably didn't even know what the word lycanthropy meant. “Whatchu’ doing?” She asks through a mouthful. I stare at her, my gaze moving to the cookie in her hand. “You know eating in here is against the rules, right?” “The rule is to not be found eating here, Hayley,” she winks.I roll my eyes, suppressing a smile, as I bring my gaze back to the book in front of me. After an hour of reading, I've grasped nothing other than silver being harmful to werewolves, thanks to the noisy state of the library.The usually quiet study hall is a hub of hushed conversations today—conversations, no doubt about the most recent murder scare in the woods two nights ago. The school authorities have been very tight-lipped with what really happened on the night of the game. But that secrecy has only fue
AXELThe sins of your blood are upon you.A locker door slams shut nearby. High above, a banner for an upcoming event sways from the ceilings. Laughter drifts down the hall. Two security staff barrel past me, chasing a boy on a skateboard. The world tilts lazily, my senses barely registering any of it. You can't hide from me. A girl bumps into me—or I bump into her—jolting my thoughts in place. “Watch where you're going!” she snaps, rubbing her shoulder. “Sorry. I'm really sorry—” But the girl is halfway down the hall already, clearly not interested in whatever apology I'm mustering. Of course. As it's been for the past two days, everything around me is a blurry, chaotic mess. Mentally, I feel trapped in the chilling events from the night of the game, and the feeling is only made worse by the haunting words of the shadowy lycan. Hard as I try to shake it off, Dreadborn's warning gnaws at the back of my mind like a restless vermin, threatening to consume me whole. Shane and his
NARRATIVE POVSheriff McKenna knew something was wrong when the station's landline rang repeatedly that night. Greystone rarely ever saw the kind of trouble that warranted multiple calls. At least not until recently. Not until the murder in the woods a month ago. Now, every shrill of their landline felt like an insidious warning of what was to come. And tonight, the one thing the Sheriff feared had showed up again. A dead body. “Jesus Christ.” Deputy Morales walked up to Sheriff McKenna, wincing at the sight before them. Never one for a sore sight, Morales quickly tore his gaze away. “He’s just a kid, goddamnit,” the man hissed. Sheriff McKenna took off his hat, staring at the lifeless body of the boy wearing a bloodied football jersey. It wasn't his first grim sight—three years in active duty as the Sheriff of Greystone had given him a good measure of those. But it was the unnerving similarities between this body, and the one found a month ago that sent a tremor through his veins
AXELPanic claws at my chest like a deathtrap. The jubilation from the win feels sucked out of the air as the scent of Dreadborn lingers. “Ax, are you okay?” The unmistakable look of hurt is etched in Hayley's face when she quizzes me. We've just had a breathless, perfect moment—only for me to pull away like some jerk. “It's just… it's nothing.” God, how much can I let her in on? The sting in her eyes burrows, and I'm dead certain she can tell I'm lying. “Is it me?” I'm too tongue-tied to form a response, and I watch Hayley’s lips pinch together. “Maybe we shouldn't have done this. I don't know why every time we—”“Hayley, stop.” I lock my fingers through hers. “It's not you. I promise.” “Then what is it, Ax?” Her eyes carry a mix of concern and curiosity. “One minute we're making out—the next you're spooked. And you say it's not about me?” “Alright, look. I know this might sound crazy, but—” “You can feel it, green eyes, can't you?” Shane appears from behind, cutting me off. “I
AXEL. As I sit alone on a bench in the locker room, I pick up a helmet and swing it from one hand to the other, feeling its solid weight in my grip. Tryouts are today, and whilst I know I’m ready physically, anxiety crawls just under my skin. I’ve never stepped onto a football field like this bef
AXEL. I sense the tackle coming before it happens, but for some reason, I’m slow to react. It's almost like my instincts are delayed. BAM. The opposing defender crashes into me headfirst, knocking me flat and snatching the ball mid-play. As I lie on my back, the stadium's headlights sting my
AXEL. Stepping onto the pitch, I’m in awe at how massive it is. Hayley wasn’t exaggerating: it’s way bigger than the one back at my old school in Ashbrae. I glance around and most of the team is lounging on the benches, a handful of them deep in conversation. At the end of the bench, a few others
HAYLEY. I'm fussing as I lightly dab mascara along my lashes, blinking softly at the mirror before me. After a few seconds, I set the wand down, stare at my reflection and bask in the glow of my new look. My silver-gray hair is pulled into a neat ponytail, tied with a pretty bow, and my brown







