Chapter 1: ENCOUNTER

Emilia recovered slowly. The hospital walls had become her world for weeks, sterile, quiet, heavy with grief. She bore the pain, physical and emotional, without complaint, but each day left a new weight on her chest. When the doctors finally cleared her to leave, the air outside the hospital hit her lungs like a memory of freedom.

Waiting by the curb, her grandparents stood arm in arm. Her grandfather stepped forward first.

"How are you, my darling?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Emilia blinked hard, eyes stinging. "I'm okay," she murmured, though her voice wavered.

Her grandfather reached out, drawing her into a brief but firm embrace. "You'll be safe with us on the farm," he whispered, the crack in his voice betraying him.

She nodded, swallowing back a sob.

Her grandmother wrapped her arms around her next, a long, warm hug that smelled like flour and lavender. Her grandfather joined them, holding them both tightly. They lingered for a moment longer before guiding her to a battered farm truck waiting at the curb.

She sat in the middle, tucked between them, her head resting on her grandmother's shoulder as they pulled away from the city.

Detective Nolan sat at his desk, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the case file. Steam curled from his untouched coffee. The accident that killed Emilia's parents was still gnawing at him.

"Hey, Martha," he called, rubbing his temples.

His partner walked over, curiosity etched into her features.

"I’ve been combing through the files again," he said, flipping one open. "Something’s not right."

Martha leaned in, scanning the report. "It’s like he was trying to get out of the car... or pulled out."

"Exactly," Nolan muttered. "The injuries don’t add up. He could’ve survived the initial crash."

"He might’ve been trying to save them," she offered.

"Maybe. But his body was found ten meters from the wreck. His daughter was outside, unconscious. His wife... still in the car."

Martha lowered her voice. "And the fur. It was on his jacket."

Nolan met her eyes. "Changeling cases?"

She gave a slow nod. "Fits the pattern."

He leaned back in his chair. "Then we’re not just chasing answers. We’re chasing something that doesn’t want to be found."

Shortly after,

The truck bumped along a winding dirt path, framed by rolling hills and golden fields.

"We’re home," her grandfather said with a soft smile.

Ahead, the farmhouse stood proud and rustic, wrapped in climbing ivy and time-worn wood. Emilia let her grandmother help her down. Her grandfather parked the truck off to the side, then came to her with her bags.

"Welcome home, sweetie," her grandmother whispered, rubbing her back gently.

Emilia offered a faint smile, her eyes tracing the farmhouse like she was trying to memorize it. The house looked like it had stories tucked into every crack of wood. She wasn't sure if it felt like home yet, but it felt like a place that she could remember.

Inside, the air was warm and thick with the smell of baked bread and old wood.

"Your room is this way," her grandmother said, guiding her down a narrow hallway.

The room was simple, but lovingly arranged. A soft gray hue on the walls, framed family photos, a wooden dresser with wildflowers in a vase. A thick quilt covered the bed, and vintage designs danced along the headboard.

"Thank you, Grandma," Emilia whispered, emotions threatening to rise again.

"We just want you to feel at home," her grandmother replied, smoothing a wrinkle in the quilt.

Her grandfather appeared at the door with her suitcase. "Let’s get you settled in, kid."

"Thanks, Grandpa," she said, beginning to unpack slowly.

"We’re glad you’re here," he said, placing her folded sweaters in the corner.

Her grandmother gave one last smile. "I’ll go start dinner."

Her grandfather followed. "Make yourself comfortable. I need to run a few errands. Be back soon."

Emilia tried to relax in her new space, surrounded by the hum of the countryside. Birds called from the trees. The scent of fresh hay drifted in through the window. Still, an unease stirred under her skin, a subtle, unshakable tension.

That evening, she stepped outside to breathe. The hills blushed with golden light, and the breeze rolled down the slopes like a song. She stood at the edge of the porch, letting the air wrap around her.

Something moved in the field.

A figure approached. Not her grandfather.

It was a boy, tall, lean, with dark hair and a confident stride. A farm tool rested across his shoulders, and when he neared, she caught the flash of sharp blue eyes.

He smiled.

“Hey, you must be Emilia. I’m Asher, your neighbor.”

Her breath caught. “Hi... yeah. Nice to meet you.” She extended a hand, hoping it didn’t shake.

He took it. His grip was warm, steady. A strange electricity zipped up her arm.

“Welcome to the farm. Heard a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope?” she asked, tucking her hair behind one ear. Why did her voice suddenly sound breathless?

“Mostly good,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice. His eyes lingered on her a second longer than necessary.

They stood there, the moment stretching between them. Her pulse picked up. He wasn’t just friendly. There was something grounded about him, something that made her feel seen.

“Time for dinner!” her grandmother’s voice rang out from inside.

“I’ve got to go,” Emilia said, stepping back.

“Goodnight, Emilia.”

She nodded, then slipped inside, heart thudding in her chest.

Later that night, her grandfather realized he’d left his medication in the truck.

“It’s dark,” he muttered. “I’ll get it in the morning.”

“I’ll grab it,” Emilia offered, already pulling on a cardigan.

The moon hung low and full, casting silver light across the fields. Crickets chirped. She walked briskly to the truck, opened the glove box, and retrieved the small bottle.

As she closed the door, a shiver ran down her spine. The silence was too perfect. No wind. No insects. Just her footsteps and the steady echo of her breath.

Her skin prickled. She paused, her eyes darting to the treeline, heartbeat quickening without a clear reason.

On her way back, a low growl sliced through the stillness.

She froze.

From the shadows, a wolf emerged. Its fur was matted and torn. Another creature lunged at it from the left, fangs bared.

The clash was brutal. Jaws snapped, claws ripped, growls turned to snarls. The wounded wolf slammed the attacker to the ground, teeth sinking deep. A sharp yelp echoed … and then silence.

The dominant wolf raised its head.

Its eyes met hers.

Something ancient, something terrifying, locked her in place. Her legs refused to move. The wolf stepped toward her.

She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t blink.

Just as it lunged, a blur exploded from the shadows.

Asher.

He launched through the air, body shifting mid-leap into a powerful, gleaming wolf. He collided with the beast, and they tumbled in a whirlwind of fur and fury.

Emilia stumbled back, heart in her throat. She ran. The sound of snarls and snapping teeth faded behind her, replaced by the pounding of her heartbeat as she fled into the farmhouse.

But just before she crossed the porch, she looked back.

Blue eyes. For the briefest second, she saw them glowing from the shadows. Blue eyes then glow like yellow embers.