The Fire That Chose Me

Clouds sagged over the moon, bloated and low, smearing the sky in smudges of gray. Wind moved through the trees with a kind of hush, like the forest was whispering secrets it didn’t want overheard. Somewhere in the distance, Ravenwood’s streetlamps flickered behind Aiden Wolfe, dimming one by one like the town itself was disappearing.

Aiden stood just beyond the tree line with a dented aluminum bat in one hand and a flashlight in the other. His palms were sweaty despite the cold. Every part of him itched to turn back, but pride and the boy beside him kept his sneakers rooted to the dirt.

“This is a bad idea,” Aiden said under his breath.

Cass Blake Cass, always just Cass shot him a grin that was one part trouble, one part dare.

“You said you wanted to stop being invisible,” Cass said. “Well, people don’t forget the guys who find a body in the woods.”

“They might forget us when we end up as bodies too.”

Cass shrugged like that wasn’t his problem. “Come on. It’s just a story.”

That wasn’t true, and they both knew it. Two nights ago, a girl had been found in these woods or so the rumor went. Mauled. Torn to pieces. There’d been no headline, no news report, just a strip of caution tape and whispers in the school hallway. Something about it being “cleaned up” too quickly. Something about the sheriff wanting it quiet.

And here they were. Looking for proof.

The yellow tape sagged between two trees like it was tired of holding secrets. Aiden hesitated. Then Cass ducked under it, and Aiden followed because that’s what he always did followed Cass into things he couldn’t explain, and often regretted.

The forest greeted them like a closed door.

The second they crossed under the tape, it felt different too still, too dark. The kind of dark that crept into your lungs and made your chest feel tight.

“You’re really not scared?” Aiden asked.

Cass turned to look at him, flashlight beam dancing between the trees. “Terrified,” he said, not even pretending to lie. “But that’s the point.”

The deeper they went, the less sound followed. No crickets. No birds. Just the soft squish of damp leaves underfoot and the occasional crack of a twig. The flashlight’s beam flicked over mossy trunks and branches that stretched like claws overhead.

Aiden hated that his hands were shaking. He hated that he wasn’t the kind of guy who belonged in stories like this. He was the guy who got cut from JV soccer, the guy who got winded running up stairs, the guy who sat at the back of the cafeteria hoping not to be noticed. But with Cass, he felt braver. Or at least like pretending to be brave.

“Wait,” Cass said, stopping suddenly.

Aiden almost bumped into him. “What?”

Cass pointed to the base of a nearby tree. There, half-buried in the dirt, was a streak of something dark and drying.

Blood.

Next to it marks. Deep ones. Scratches carved into the bark like someone, or something, had been angry.

Aiden’s breath came out in a puff. “That’s not… normal.”

Cass was quiet. For once, the grin was gone. He crouched, reached out like he might touch the bark, then froze.

A sound rose through the trees a long, low howl that didn’t sound like any dog or coyote Aiden had ever heard. It was too deep. Too sad. And too close.

They both stood frozen.

“That’s not a coyote,” Aiden whispered.

“No,” Cass said softly. “It’s not.”

Then there was movement. Fast. Too fast to see clearly. Just a flicker between the trees. Aiden’s stomach dropped.

“You saw that, right?” he asked.

Cass didn’t get a chance to respond.

A sudden weight slammed into Aiden’s side, knocking him flat. The world spun. The bat flew from his hand. His flashlight hit the ground and rolled away, the beam flipping and twisting like it was panicking too.

Aiden didn’t even have time to scream.

Something raked across his ribs sharp and hot and real.

He gasped. Tried to move. Couldn’t.

Cass shouted his name just once. And theni nothing.

Just pain. And darkness.

The darkness didn’t last.

It shattered slowly, like glass cracking under pressure.

Aiden’s ears rang before anything else returned. His head throbbed with a slow, pulsing ache. Something warm trickled down his side, but it wasn’t until he tried to move that the pain returned in full force sharp and searing, like a blade twisting just beneath his ribs.

He gasped.

Moonlight slipped through the branches in slanted beams, catching on dust motes and blood.

His blood.

He could see it now dark and glistening on his hoodie, soaking the fabric. Panic surged, but his limbs were sluggish, like they didn’t belong to him anymore.

“Cass?” he croaked.

No answer.

He tried again, louder this time. “Cassian!”

Silence.

Something moved in the underbrush. His breath hitched. Was it coming back? Whatever it was?

He tried to sit up, biting down on a groan. Pain bloomed in his side like wildfire, but he pushed through it, dragging himself against the rough bark of a fallen log.

And then he saw him.

Cass was standing a few feet away, half-hidden in the shadows. Frozen. Pale.

“Cass,” Aiden breathed.

But Cass didn’t speak. He was staring not at Aiden, but at something just beyond him.

And his eyes… they were wide with terror.

Before Aiden could turn to see, a low growl rolled through the air.

It wasn’t human.

It wasn’t animal either.

It was something else.

Something ancient.

The growl vibrated through his bones, and every hair on his neck stood on end.

And then it was gone.

The silence snapped back.

Cass finally moved, stumbling forward and dropping to his knees beside Aiden.

“You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I thought it dragged you. I didn’t know if”

Aiden blinked up at him, dizzy. “What… what was that?”

Cass looked around, like the trees themselves might answer. “I don’t know. But it wasn’t a coyote.”

Aiden felt the cold settle deeper in his skin, despite the burning pain in his side. Something was wrong. Something was changing.