The dream of the wolf
A cry echoed through the stone halls of Lord Mayor’s fortress.
The walls trembled beneath the storm outside, and within the dim chamber, shadows moved like living smoke. Lord Mayor stood over a woman chained to the bed — pale, trembling, her eyes full of defiance despite her fear.
“You think you can fight me?” His voice was deep and rough, soaked in arrogance. The golden sigils on his skin pulsed faintly, alive with the ancient magic of the Shifters.
Her fingers clenched the sheets. “You’re not a god,” she spat. “You’re just a monster hiding behind power.”
He smirked. “Power is god.”
Before another word left her lips, the door burst open. One of his Alphas — tall, armored, his eyes glowing amber — bowed low.
“My Lord. The human scientist, Dr. Greenfield… refuses to cooperate. He says you can burn in hell before he releases the virus.”
Lord Mayor’s face darkened. “He dares?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Lord Mayor turned to the window, where lightning forked across the black sky. “Then hell it shall be. Take the rest of the Alphas. Capture every human. Kill anyone who resists… but bring the women alive.”
He smiled coldly. “I will build my kingdom on their screams.”
“As you command.” The Alpha morphed into a black wolf and vanished into the night.
When Lord Mayor turned back, the woman had broken free. Her hair clung to her face, her eyes wild, a silver blade trembling in her hands.
“I won’t let you destroy us,” she said, voice shaking but brave. “You will never be a god.”
“You think courage can save you?” His voice grew distorted, guttural. Muscles tore through his skin, his body twisting, reshaping. Bones cracked and fur erupted — until where a man once stood, a monstrous grey wolf loomed, red eyes burning like coals.
Her scream was cut short.
Only the sound of tearing flesh and the storm’s rage filled the night.
⸻
The blare of an alarm shattered the darkness.
I jolted awake, gasping for air. My heart hammered against my ribs. Just a dream — again.
Sunlight slipped through my curtains, landing on the wolf sketch taped to my wall: an all-brown beast with knife-sharp fangs and eyes that always seemed… too alive.
I smiled faintly. “Morning, buddy.”
Then I realized I was late for school.
⸻
If you ask anyone at George High, they’ll point to me as the weakling.
I’m Darius Greenfield, seventeen, top art student, professional punching bag, and the kid who can’t go a week without getting bruised.
My dad says I should’ve gone to art school. My mom says I should stop watching “those monster movies.” But neither of them understands — I don’t just draw werewolves.
I feel them.
Maybe that’s why my father, Dr. Greenfield, the great zoologist, looks at me strangely sometimes — like he knows something I don’t.
⸻
That morning, as I stepped out of the car, Dad leaned over the steering wheel and said, “No rough play today, Darius. Be a good boy, yeah?”
I nodded and waved goodbye — just before walking straight into Kane and his gang.
Kane. Red-haired, half-smile, all trouble. The same guy who’d punched me so hard on my first day that I saw stars for a week.
Behind him was Cole, a Spanish brute with a sneer sharp enough to cut glass.
“Look who crawled out of his cave,” Kane said. “Got any new freak drawings for us, dog boy?”
I froze. My fingers tightened on my sketchbook.
Cole yanked it away before I could react, flipping through the pages. “Still drawing monsters, huh?” He ripped my favorite page — a detailed wolf with grey on its head and belly.
“Stop!” I shouted. My voice cracked.
The world blurred as their fists came down. Pain, laughter, boots, the taste of blood — then silence.
When I opened my eyes, I was on the ground, bruised and shaking. A small boy knelt beside me, his eyes wide with pity. He offered me his hand.
“Hey,” he said softly, “they’ll get what’s coming to them one day.”
I took his hand. Something strange sparked between us — a heat, a pulse, like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine.
Above us, clouds darkened. A low growl rolled across the sky.
And from the corner of my eye, for just a second, I thought I saw it — a shadow with glowing red eyes watching from the trees.
