The Wolf's Midnight Vow

Elena Raines tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her knuckles whitening as the winding road led her deeper into the shadowy expanse of Coldmoor Ridge. The towering pines stretched toward the sky, their serrated edges slicing into the fading light of dusk. She glanced at the map on the passenger seat, though she didn't need it. Every turn, every jagged rock, was burned into her memory. She had vowed never to return to this place. Yet here she was, seventeen years after her parents vanished, driving into the heart of the very woods that had swallowed them whole.

The sound of gravel crunching beneath her tires filled the silence. Her rental car's headlights carved faint paths through the thickening fog, revealing a crumbling wooden sign: *Welcome to Coldmoor Ridge.* The letters were weathered and peeling, as though even they wanted to disappear.

Coldmoor Ridge hadn't changed much. The small town nestled at the base of the mountain remained cloaked in an air of mystery, its narrow streets and rustic buildings exuding a timelessness that felt both quaint and oppressive. She passed the gas station with its flickering neon sign, the diner she used to visit with her parents, and the general store with its sagging roof.

The estate lay on the outskirts, a sprawling Victorian house her parents had left behind. She hadn't set foot in it since their disappearance. In the years that followed, the house had been locked up, waiting for someone to claim it.

Elena parked at the foot of the driveway, the looming silhouette of the house rising before her. Its once-bright white paint had faded to a sickly gray, and ivy crawled up its sides like skeletal fingers. She stepped out of the car, pulling her coat tighter against the evening chill. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, mingled with something faintly metallic she couldn't place.

Her boots crunched over the gravel as she approached the front door. The lock clicked open with a push of the rusted key she'd found in the envelope the lawyer sent. The door groaned on its hinges, protesting her return. Inside, the scent of dust and neglect hit her, mingled with a faint trace of something floral-lavender, her mother's favorite.

The entryway was just as she remembered, though layered with decay. A grand staircase swept up to the second floor, its banister covered in cobwebs. She hesitated, memories threatening to overwhelm her. Her father's laughter, her mother's soft hums, the warmth of their presence-it all seemed to linger, ghostlike.

A soft creak echoed from the floor above. Her breath hitched. She froze, ears straining for another sound. The house settled with a groan, the noise brushing aside her suspicion. Still, unease prickled at her skin.

Her hand instinctively reached for her phone, though the lawyer had warned her cell reception was unreliable in these parts. She clicked on the flashlight app, its beam cutting through the gloom. Dust motes danced in the light as she ventured deeper into the house.

The study was her first stop, a room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Her father had spent hours here, pouring over thick tomes about local legends and folklore. She scanned the shelves, her eyes falling on an old leather-bound journal tucked behind a row of books. Pulling it free, she flipped it open, revealing her father's neat handwriting.

*The Howlbound. A curse tied to the wolves of Coldmoor Ridge, bound to the witch who cursed them...*

The journal's contents were as cryptic as she remembered. Her father had been obsessed with the legend of the Howlbound, believing it to be the key to understanding the strange happenings in the woods. Elena had always dismissed it as his eccentricity, a way to cope with the town's mysteries.

A loud bang from the kitchen shattered her focus. The journal slipped from her hands, its pages fanning open on the floor. Heart pounding, she stepped into the hallway, her flashlight trembling as she moved toward the noise.

The kitchen door swung on its hinges, banging softly against the frame. The wind must have caught it. She stepped closer to latch it shut, her eyes scanning the darkened backyard beyond the broken glass pane.

A shadow moved at the edge of the tree line.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The shape was massive, too large to be a person. It stood perfectly still, its silhouette blending into the darkness. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished into the woods.

Elena stumbled back, her chest tightening. Coldmoor Ridge had always been known for its wolves. She told herself that's all it was-just a wolf, curious about the intruder on its territory.

The thought did little to calm her.

She bolted the kitchen door, her fingers fumbling with the lock. When she turned, a low growl reverberated through the house. The sound wasn't coming from outside-it was inside, a deep, guttural noise that raised the hair on her arms.

The growl echoed again, this time from the living room. Elena crept toward the sound, her pulse thundering in her ears.

The beam of her flashlight landed on a pair of glowing amber eyes.

A massive wolf stood in the center of the room, its fur black as midnight and its gaze locked on hers. It didn't move, didn't snarl or lunge. It simply stared, its presence radiating a strange, unnerving calm.

Elena's instincts screamed at her to run, but her legs wouldn't obey. She clutched the flashlight like a lifeline, the beam trembling as it illuminated the creature's powerful frame.

The wolf took a step forward, its paws silent on the hardwood floor.

"Stay back," she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

The wolf stopped, its head tilting slightly as if it understood her words. For a moment, they were locked in a standoff, the air between them thick with tension. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the wolf turned and leaped through the broken window, disappearing into the night.

Elena sank to the floor, her legs giving out beneath her. She struggled to catch her breath, her mind racing to make sense of what she'd just seen.

It wasn't just the size of the wolf that unsettled her. It was the way it looked at her-intelligent, almost human.

Her father's words from his journal echoed in her mind- "The wolves of Coldmoor Ridge are not what they seem."

In the stillness that followed, the howl of a wolf pierced the night, long and mournful. It was joined by another, and another, until the forest was alive with their cries.

Elena wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the broken window. She had come here for answers, but now she wasn't sure she wanted them. Something was lurking in Coldmoor Ridge, something that had been waiting for her return, and it wasn't going to let her leave.