The days that followed my encounter with Ethan and the wolf-man were intense final exams, sleepless nights, anxiety buzzing just under my skin.
When I did manage to sleep, I had strange dreams, each one more vivid and detailed than the last. In some of them, I was running through a dark damp forest, breathing in the smell of wet earth and crushed leaves under my bare feet while the full moon lit my path with a silvery glow. In others, I walked slowly through the cold, silent hallways of a medieval castle, listening to the echo of my steps against the ancient stones and brushing my fingertips along the rough cool walls. Sometimes the dream carries me all the way to Ancient Egypt, where I stand before massive, vibrant paintings of men with wolf-heads posed in majestic, intimidating stances.
