Novel & Cerita White Nights By Fyodor Dostoevsky

The firelight flickered against the rafters, shadows stretching and twisting like they were moving on their own. Ronan stayed where he was, watching the door. The howl came again—closer now. And Kaela knew the White wasn’t going to let them have a quiet first night. *** The White is creeping me out already... Am I the only one? Please leave the comment. ***

Wolves howled, men screamed, the forest itself roared like the roots were being ripped from the earth. I saw shapes moving in the glow, men clutching their heads, wolves turning on their own shadows, their faces all twisted up in fear and pain. The white light burned everything without caring who or what it was. I screamed, I tried to move, to stop it, to do something! But my body didn’t listen. My arms were locked and shaking, my eyes were open but the world had gone white. “Iris!” Mattias’s voice cut through the confusing chaos. “Whatever it is you're doing, stop! You're killing people”

In the sky above, clouds hang low and unmoving, like the world is holding its breath. Is this what death looks like? A quiet world, untouched by time or warmth? I feel like I’ve been here before. In nightmares. In guilt. In the shadowy places my thoughts go when I can’t sleep. Then I hear it. A low growl. Followed by the pad of many feet—dozens of them—crunching softly, slowly. I turn toward the sound. Wolves. Not ordinary wolves. These are white. Larger than any natural creature. Their fur gleams like moonlight. Their eyes glow gold.

Then another old man, his reflection, sunk his teeth into Krasnov’s leg, and the torch flew through the air in a strangely slow motion, tumbling end over end. Svetlana still had time to think, I need to catch it, but then the torch fell with a dull crack and the room was in darkness. Only the white gleam of the snow outside, and a medley of sucking, slurping noises, and Vadim’s swearing that dissolved into a thin inarticulate squeal remained.

They were like shadows but not empty ones. They moved and twisted, Their shapes unnatural. Their presence was Oppressive and cold My smile faded. The white spirits stilled and the clearing went silent. And then— I heard whispers at first, I couldn’t make out the words. Just the tone growing louder every minute. The dark figures stepped closer. The white ones didn’t move or protect me again, they didn’t try to stop them. My chest tightened. “What’s happening…?” I whispered. No answer. The whispers grew louder and more clearer till I could make out the words And then I heard it.

In my state of utter depletion, I forced myself to believe that everything crazy about tonight—from the solid chest that appeared in front of the truck to the wolf ears in the mirror—was nothing more than a toxic hallucination. On the borderline between consciousness and coma, I faintly felt the warmth of Nanny’s hand as she pulled up the blanket for me. The room sank into a quiet darkness, but amidst the rumbling thunder outside the window, a whispering voice, trembling and laced with dread, slipped into my fracturing subconscious: "The late Madame's seal... has finally broken. The legendary White Wolf bloodline can no longer be hidden..." The sharp creak of the medical kit being tightly gr

The weight of the day, a pleasant but persistent exhaustion from the Innovators Fair, had pulled Davidson into a deep, dreamless sleep. Then, the quality of the darkness changed. It was no longer an absence of light, but a substance, a velvet silence that parted seamlessly to form a room.

I stood back and admired the gory display. From a nearby hill, I looked down on the sleeping town. The streets were quiet, the guards few. Drawing a deep breath, I howled; a long haunting cry that tore through the night and chilled the air. The white wolf had only just begun.

Not brown. White. Pure as snow, shimmering faintly in the dim morning light. My breath caught. My hands trembled as I grabbed more of it, staring in disbelief. “What… what happened to me?” I whispered. The dream’s voice echoed in my head: Do not resist the change. It will make you. --- The sight of my hair wouldn’t leave me. White, shimmering like frost under sunlight. Each strand was alien and yet—achingly familiar, as though it had always been waiting, buried deep inside me.

⸻ Then— A faint light appeared deeper within the tunnel. ⸻ Not lantern light. Not fire. ⸻ White. Cold. Artificial. ⸻ Elias froze instantly. ⸻ “No…” he whispered. ⸻ Damien’s eyes narrowed sharply. ⸻ “What is it?” ⸻ Elias stared ahead like he’d seen a ghost. ⸻ “That’s impossible.” ⸻ The white light grew brighter. Closer. ⸻ Then a voice echoed through the darkness ahead. Calm.