LOGINBetween Light and Shadow
The morning sun streamed through my bedroom windows, casting warm rays across the room. I blinked away the remnants of sleep, last night’s moments swirling in my mind—Eirik’s gentle smile, the way his fingers brushed my hair—like a scene pulled from a dream.
I dressed quickly, trying to shake the flutter of nerves. Today was a new day, a chance to claim some footing in this strange town. I needed to explore, pick up things for school, maybe find a few essentials for my room—the movers still hadn’t found our boxes.
The scent of cooking drifted up the creaky stairs as I headed downstairs, gran’s familiar presence brought a quiet comfort.
“Morning, Saxa,” she called from the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. “Breakfast will be ready soon.” I settled at the small kitchen table, the warm room made this place feel a little less foreign.
“I’m going out to explore something in town today,” I told her. “Maybe pick up a few things for school and my room, I still can’t believe all of our stuff just went missing.”
Gran nodded slowly, eyes distant but kind. “It’s a big change, take your time, you don’t have to rush anything.”
“I know,” I sighed. “But I just want to feel settled.”
After breakfast, I helped clear the table, then grabbed my bag. “You need anything while I’m out?”
“Just some fresh veggies, but only if you see any good ones at the market, oh and maybe some cookies… or just something sweet.” She smiled. “Also, grab some thicker coats for us, the weather's tricky here.”
“Yes ma'am." I pulled on my sweater and stepped outside. The sun was bright, but a crisp breeze cut through the morning air. Birds chirped, leaves rustled,---a peaceful soundtrack for the walk ahead. Maps pulled up on my phone showed twenty minutes to the town center. With every step my excitement grew—coloful storefront, the buzz of life waiting for me.
The main street unfolded before me—cobbled stones, friendly shops. I stopped first at a grocery store, then wandered into a bookstore, the scent of old paper surrounding me. Fingertips brushed the spines, pulling me deeper into their fictional worlds. At the checkout, an older woman smiled warmly. “Welcome to the neighborhood dear, I had heard someone new was moving to town.”
“Thank you!”
“How do you like it so far?”
“It’s lovely, my Gran has talked about this place forever. She’s very happy to be back home.”
“Back home? What's her name, I might know your family.”
“Ysabeau Åkerlund.”
“Oh! I– I’m not sure that I know her.” the woman behind the counter said, hurriedly placing my things in the bags. “You have a nice day dear.”
I smiled, feeling off about the conversation but also feeling threads of belonging tugging gently at me.
Next, I stopped at the face, the bell chimed as I entered—and there was Eirik, at a table by the window.
My heart lurched in my throat.
“Oh, hey!” he said, looking up. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“I’m just grabbing some cookies for my Gran.” I smiled, trying not to show that I could throw up at any moment.
“Do you wanna sit down and wait with me?” his eyes sparkled with warmth.
“O-okay.”
Conversation flowed easy, but beneath it simmered something intense. Eirik’s gaze held a hunger—searching, probing.
“Have you seen the old library yet?” He asked, voice low.
“No, not yet. I went to the bookstore down the road though and loved it there, is the library any better?”
His smile darkened. “Far surpasses the book store, it’s off the beaten path. There’s hidden rooms—books only the town founders have read. Maybe I could show you sometime?”
A thrill ran down my spine, "I think I’d like that.”
The cafe door swung open, pulling me back in the moment. Eirik caught my eye, half-smile teasing. “So, plans for the day?”
“I think I’m gonna stick around in town for a bit longer.”
He leaned back, smirk widening. “Great, there's a park nearby. I can show you some of my favorite spots.”
I nodded, the excitement laced with unease.
As we walked, the bustling streets faded into a quieter tension. People watching Eirik with a mix of admiration and caution—he thrived on the attention, I could tell.
The park’s greenery welcomed us, sunlights dappling the leaves—but shadows seemed to dance just beyond the edges.
“Thanks for showing me around today.”
He studied me, expression shifting. “You’re interesting Saxa, I like having someone around to impress.”
A chill settled in my chest, what had I gotten myself into?
His confident steps felt almost predatory, a man who knew exactly the effect he had on people.We ventured deeper into the park, the light fading behind us, the thrill of the unknown growing sharper. “There’s history here you won’t find in any book,” he said, voice dropping. “Things people don’t talk about.”
I looked up at him, curiosity battling caution.
“Like what exactly?”
He smiled—a slow, dangerous curve. “Like the past doesn’t always stay buried.”
A breeze stirred the leaves, whispering secrets only the wind understood.
My heart raced, is this just a story?
Eirik’s eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable.
“Ready to see the real town, Saxa? The one beneath the surface?”
I hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on me.
“I- wha-... okay?”
Because sometimes, you have to take a leap of faith.
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The park was alive with rustling leaves and distant laughter drifting down from the shops across the field, but all I could hear was the thundering of my own heart. Eirik walked beside me, his presence magnetic yet unsettling in a way—like a flame I wanted to watch but feared getting too close to. Beneath his charming smile, I sensed something darker, something dangerous lurking just beneath the surface.
“Instead of the library, let me show you the old oak tree,” he said, breaking the silence. “It’s one of my favorite spots, you’ll see.”
Curiosity warred with instinct, but I nodded and followed him deeper into the park. The path wound between towering trees, their branches arching overhead like silent guardians. The sunlight faded, shadows lengthened, and the air grew heavier, the peaceful park taking on an eerie stillness.
As we neared the oak, its gnarled trunk and sprawling branches looked ancient—almost alive. A shiver ran through me, though I couldn’t tell if it was from the chill or the growing tension between us. “Here it is,” Eirik said, stepping back to admire it. “Isn’t it magnificent?”
“Very,” I replied, forcing a smile, watching him closely. The way he looked at that tree—as if it were a prize–creeped me the fuck out.
“Most people overlook places like these,” he murmured, voice low and inviting. “But there’s power in old things, they hold stories…secrets.” His words hung between us like a whispered warning.
I blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone, as if he knew something I didn’t. “Secrets? I- it's just a tree?”
Stephen’s expression darkened, the playful glint in his eyes turning serious. “It holds the kind of secrets that can change everything, Saxa. You just have to know where to look.”
My pulse quickened, unease creeping in. “What do you mean Eirik?”
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming my senses. “There are things in this town—things most people don’t believe in. They're hidden in plain sight.”
I swallowed hard, stuttering “lik–like what?
“Like the legends of this land,” he said quietly, gazing intensely. “Old stories about creatures that roam these woods.”
“Creatures?” I scoffed, trying to hide my growing anxiety with humor. “What, like ghosts and witches? Those are just dumb stories, Eirik.”
His mouth twitched with a flicker of amusement. “Some might say so. Others talk about seeing werewolves padding through the wolves.” he looked at me seriously. “You’d be surprised of what’s real, Saxa. The truth is often stranger than fiction.”
I took a step back, unease gnawing at my gut. “You’re joking.”
He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you sure? The night has a way of revealing things that we try to ignore.”
A rustle in the trees made me freeze, and I glanced toward the shadows. My instincts screamed at me to run–but I was rooted, torn between fear and fascination.
Eirik’s gaze followed mine, his warmth evaporating, replaced by something cold and sharp. “It’s just the wind,” he said, though his voice was tight, almost protective. “Let’s not worry about it now.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us—something not meant to be seen in daylight. “Maybe we should head back,” I suggested, trying to steady my voice.
Eirik looked at me, expression softening. “Why? We’re just getting started. The night’s young, and there’s so much more I want to show you.”
“Like what?” I asked, curiosity pulling me forward despite the knot in my stomach.
“There’s a hidden trail behind the oak tree,” he said, nodding toward the thick underbrush. “It leads to a clearing where the stars shine like nowhere else. Trust me, Saxa.”
His intensity was magnetic, and despite every warning bell going off in my head, I found myself nodding. “Okay.. but let’s keep it a little quick? I didn’t tell Gran I’d be out this late.”
He grinned slyly, taking my hand and leading me into the shadowy underbrush. The trees closed in around us, the air growing dense and heavy. My heart thundered in my chest—a chaotic mix of fear and excitement.
A weight settled over me, as if unseen eyes were pressing down on us, Eirik’s words echoed in my mind.
Without warning, a low menacing growl shattered the quiet. It rolled through the clearing, primal and terrifying. My breath hitched, and my nightmare of glowing red eyes flashed through my mind. My chest tightened, but this time I listened to my instincts. I stumbled back, heart racing. “What was that?” I whispered.
Eirik’s expression changed instantly–the warmth gone, replaced by cold calculation. “Stay close,” he ordered, stepping in front of me. But the tension in his body told me this was more than protection.
The growl came again, closer now. Movement flickered in the shadows—something massive, eyes gleaming bright yellow. Whatever it was, danger radiated from it like heat.
Panic surged through me. “Eirik, I want to go. Now!”
Without waiting for his response, I turned and bolted, my legs pumping faster than ever. Behind me, the rustling grew louder—the sound of pursuit spurring me on.
“Wait, Saxa!” Eirik’s voice called out, urgent but darker than before. I didn’t dare look back.
Branches scratched my arms, the night air burning cold on my skin as I fled. The shadows seemed alive, reaching for me like hungry fingers. Every instinct screamed to keep running, to escape whatever was hunting me.
Finally, I burst from the woods into the open field. The town’s distant lights flickered like a lifeline. I sprinted toward them, lungs burning, heart pounding in my ears. The laughter and music from the shops grew louder, a sharp contrast to the oppressive darkness behind me. I glanced back, half-expecting to see Eirik—or worse, the creature–but the woods stood silent, forbidding.
“I’ll never go back,” I vowed, trembling with fear and anger. The weight of the night pressed down on me, unbearable. I promised myself no more wandering into the unknown, no more following random boys I barely knew into the dark.
I would never speak to Eirik again.
But even as I turned away, a hollow ache pulsed where my heart had been—the memory of his gaze burned like a shadow I couldn’t escape.
RunSaxa Snow blurs into streaks of white and shadow, branches whip past, the cold is only a rumor now; the only real thing is the sound.The howl.Again. Closer. Urgent.We crest the ridge as wolves, paws digging into the ice. Below, the house is a dark shape against the pale clearing—and movement flickers at its edges.Two wolves circle near the porch.Guards.Their hackles are raised.Not as us, but something else.Eirik slows first, I match him. We shift in the shelter of the trees–breath hitting the air in ragged bursts.This time neither of us cares about cold or bare skin. We only care about the way the ground feels wrong. Like the air was scraped. Like something brushed past.A familiar figure appears from the side of the house.Ingrid.“No one’s hurt,” she says before either of us can ask. “But someone was at the boundary. Pushing. Again.”My stomach drops.“Talking to it?” eirik asks.She nods once. “We chased them off before they could finish. Kaia's back, She says the war
The Edge of PeaceSaxaThe cold shouldn’t feel this far away.Eirik turns his head aside for one heartbeat, respectful, then lies back in the snow as if he refuses to let shame dictate the terms of this moment. It makes something in my chest loosen.The snow bites, my skin puckers. Every nerves feels awake, alive—and somehow, being here like this doesn’t feel exposed in the wrong way. It feels like the truth.We breathe together, steam, silence, the ache in my bones softens.His head turns toward me. “Still okay?” he whispers, voice quieter than the wind.“Yeah.” I swallow. “You?”He nods, but there’s more behind it–something cautious, hungry, held back by teeth.I roll on my side toward him, he rolls too.The world narrows.We kiss. Not soft this time, not tentative. The warmth rushes in so fast it’s dizzying—his mouth firm, deliberate, full of all the things he’s tried not to say out loud. I gasp into it, my fingers sliding up his shoulder, into his dark hair, clutching because I su
The Quiet AfterSaxa The house settles into the night like a body finally giving up on pretending it isn’t hurt.Not quiet—-never quiet—but slower. Softer. Doors whisper shut instead of slamming. Voices become shapes more than sounds. The kitchen stops smelling like panic coffee and burns into something gentler: broth, bread, wool, wood smoke. Someone left a pot of soup on the stove, ladle still propped like they meant to come back and forgot about it. A thin layer of skim formed over the top.Normal.Almost.I rinse my mug even though it’s already clean. Warm water, then cold, then warm again. The swirl slips down the drain, and I watch it like it might write something for me if I stare long enough.It doesn’t.I set the mug down.Instantly my hands feel empty—like they forgot how to be hands and want a job again.“Go to bed,” I tell myself.But I don’t. Instead I wander.Past the couch piled in blankets. Past the mantle, where a ring of candle wax had dripped and hardened like a fr
After the LineSaxaThe clearing doesn't empty all at once, it unravels.Wolves break apart from the circle in slow, dragging motions, like they’re peeling themselves away from something sticky and old. Voices stay low, glances sharp and sideways. Nobody’s laughing, nobody’s relaxed. The air around us has that stunned, too bright feeling of after a lightning strike.Under our feet, the wards hum like they’re trying to remember a new tune.Eirik doesn’t move right away.He stands where he was when he drew the line–shoulders squared, jaw clenched, gaze tracking the pack as they drift back toward the trees, the houses, the routines that don’t fit right anymore.Some of them avoid looking at him, more of them avoid looking at me. My wolf is tired and wired at the same time, pacing slow circles inside of my ribs. My throat feels raw, like I’ve been shouting for hours instead of… speaking. Just speaking.“You did well,” gran murmurs at my shoulder.I snort, “I blasphemed in public Gran.”“
The Night We Stop WhisperingSaxaThe first thing I notice is the sound. Not the distant footsteps or the low voices outside, not even in the creak of the porch under too many boots.It’s the way the forest goes quiet.Like it’s listening. Like it remembers what happens when wolves gather at dusk with fear already sitting heavily in their lungs.I’m still kneeling in the damp grass with Elias slumped against me when Eirik’s command rolls through the territory. I don’t hear the words, not exactly—not the pack-voice version, not the way it threads through bone and instinct—but I feel it.Every wolf does.It’s a call to assemble.Not optional.Elias is breathing more evenly now. His head rests against my shoulder, sweat cooling on his temple, lashes clumped together, glyph-light under his shirt finally dimming to a low, sulking thrum.“Hey,” I murmur, giving his hand a squeeze. “Stay with me a little longer.”“Not going anywhere,” he mutters, voice sandpaper-rough. “Too tired to be drama
The brother at the thresholdSaxaThe first howl tears through the house like it’s trying to rip the floorboards up from underneath us. Not wolf, but not human either.It starts low, a strangled sound shoved through clenched teeth and then it breaks into a raw keening wail that claws up through the vents from the cellar and shreds the air in the kitchen.Haldor.He doesn’t say words at first, it's just noise, just pain. But pain is a language all on its own, and I understand every syllable.My hand tightens around the edge of the table, the wood biting into my palm. The glyph under my skin flares in answer, a hot, protesting twist, like it resents being reminded that there are other kinds of cages in this house besides it. Downstairs, something slams against stone.Ingrid is already on her feet, jaw tense, eyes flicking to the cellar door like she’s half a second from breaking it off it hinges. Jana’s grinding hand stills in the mortar. Gran’s shoulders lock. Kaia doesn’t move at al







