Chapter 10- Finding Out Alex's Secret

“Where are we?” I asked, scanning our surroundings. The rolling hills, the jagged mountain backdrop, and the scent of damp earth and pine brought a sense of calm I hadn't felt in years. For a moment, the silence of the valley was so profound it felt heavy, a physical weight pressing against the frantic beating of my heart.

“We are home, and we should be safe here for a while,” Alex replied. He spoke the word home with a strange reverence, as if it were a prayer he had been reciting in the dark for a very long time.

He pulled the car to a stop in front of a massive structure that defied the natural curves of the landscape. It was a mansion lifted straight from the dark, fantastical stories my parents used to tell me—all charcoal stone, towering gables, and shadowed windows that seemed to watch us with ancient intelligence. Vines of thick, silver-tinged ivy climbed the walls like grasping fingers, and the heavy oak doors looked reinforced with iron bands.

I stared in awe, momentarily forgetting the chaos of the last few hours. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright began to ebb, replaced by a hollow, gnawing confusion. “Home? But where is this?”

“The Hidden Hearth. It’s... I guess you could say it’s a haven for creatures like me,” Alex replied. He leaned over to unbuckle my seatbelt, his movement fluid and efficient, but his eyes were fixed strictly on the buckle, carefully avoiding mine.

“Creatures?” I repeated. The word felt foreign and ridiculous on my tongue, like a sound from a child’s game. Why was he speaking in riddles? Had he suffered a head injury in the two years he'd been missing? Nothing he said made sense. My Alex—the best friend who used to argue with me over the last slice of pizza and help me with my chemistry homework—didn't talk about 'havens' or 'creatures.'

I glanced through the windshield at the figures moving near the entrance. A woman in a thick wool sweater was chatting with a man carrying a stack of firewood; they looked perfectly normal, almost suburban. If not for the scale of the house, they could have been neighbors at a weekend barbecue.

“Alex, stop,” I said, my voice firming as a wave of cold rationality washed over my fear. I grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look at me. “Look at them. Everyone here looks ordinary. We’re in a wealthy, secluded community—maybe some sort of witness protection or a private estate. What are you talking about? If you survived that accident, why didn't you come home? Why let us mourn a ghost? And what is this ‘creature’ talk? Are you in a cult? Did they brainwash you?”

Alex sighed, a heavy, tired sound that seemed to vibrate in the small space of the car. He finally met my gaze, and the ancient, shadowed look in his brown eyes silenced me. There was a depth there that hadn't been there two years ago—a weariness that belonged to someone much older than twenty-four.

“Danny, I’m not doing this for drama. Everything you thought you knew about the world—the magic, the myths, the things that go bump in the night—it’s real. And I am the proof.” He reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he gently touched the scar above my eyebrow I’d carried since childhood. “I didn’t stay away because I wanted to. I stayed away because I’m no longer entirely human. I knew if I came near you, they would follow. I couldn't risk bringing that nightmare back into your life.”

He pulled his hand away, the loss of his warmth leaving me feeling strangely cold. He opened the car door, the mountain air rushing in. “You don’t have to believe me yet. But you must stay inside the boundaries of the Hearth. If you step outside, the rules of the world change, and the protection ends.” He paused, leaning back one last time, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Just trust me enough to let me show you. Please.”

I stepped out of the car, my legs feeling like lead. My mind was a civil war of logic and instinct. The logic told me to run, to find a phone, to call the police. But my instinct—the part of me that had never stopped looking for him—told me that the man standing before me wasn't lying.

“I guess there is only one way for you to believe me,” Alex said, his expression so grim I knew a punchline wasn't coming. He looked toward a man standing near the edge of the forest, about fifty yards away.

“Peter! Come here! Show him!” Alex shouted.

The man, Peter, was tall and lean, dressed in nothing but a pair of tattered denim shorts despite the mountain chill. He looked toward us and nodded. Then, he began to run.

He didn't run like an athlete; he ran like a blur. His feet hit the ground with a rhythmic, heavy thud that sounded more like a galloping horse than a human. As he reached the halfway point, the air around him seemed to shimmer and distort.

“Watch,” Alex commanded softly.

Just a few yards from where we stood, Peter leaped. In mid-air, the transformation began. It was a violent, visceral sight—his spine arched, his limbs lengthened and thickened, and a coat of coarse, charcoal fur erupted from his skin. I heard the distinct, sickening crack of bones snapping and resetting into new shapes.

By the time his feet—now massive, clawed paws—hit the gravel of the driveway, the man was gone. In his place stood a wolf the size of a grizzly bear. Its fur was a mosaic of grey and black, and its eyes were a startling, intelligent amber. It let out a low, vibrating huff of breath that sent a cloud of steam into the air, its gaze fixed directly on mine.

I stood frozen, the world tilting on its axis. My brain screamed that this was impossible, but the smell of wet fur and the sheer heat radiating from the beast were undeniably real.

"What... what the hell is going on?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

The massive wolf tilted its head, almost as if it were studying me, before letting out a soft whine that sounded hauntingly human.

What the hell is going on?