The Wolf Mark

t she didn't understand. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, the cool breeze carrying with it an odd, unsettling chill that wrapped around

coming her to Shadow Creek was simple-wooden and faded, the paint chipped and peeling from years of neglect. It se

breath. She was here now. This would be her fresh start. Or at least, that's wh

d only heard about in the occasional letter her aunt had sent over the years, full of cryptic details about the weather, the neighbors, and most often, the town's mysterious past. But Amber had grown tired of the c

etween thick forests and hills, but there was something about the place that made Amber uneasy. She didn't know what it was yet. It could have been the dense canopy

story Victorian, it was painted in a muted shade of gray with ivy climbing up its walls. The porch was overgrown with vines, and a few loose shin

aked open to reveal the dim, dusty interior. The scent of old wood and musty air hit her, and for a moment, she just stood there, staring at the shadowed hall

s felt hollow. There was no one here to greet her, no on

bered from the pictures-antique furniture covered in sheets, walls adorned with faded photographs of people s

with dust. She pulled the door open, wincing as it creaked loudly in protest. The attic was narrow, filled with boxes of forgotten belongings, boo

les gleamed as though they had been polished recently. Amber approached it cautiously, feeling a strange pull toward

ht her eye was a leather-bound journal lying at the bottom. The cover was embossed with an intricate design-a symbol she couldn't place, but one that felt oddl

st page, where a simple line of han

s are alway

t, she told herself. Evelyn had always been eccentric, writing strange things in her journals, but this seemed different

of the pages were stained, the ink smudged, but the patterns were unmistakable-wolves. Full moon ritua

chooses you. The bloodline must be sever

folklore, but something about the tone of her aunt's writing made it hard to dismiss as madness. The last line haunted

hands as she went to the window. A truck, dusty and old, was parked by the side of the house, and a man was getting out.

od. He was older now, but there was something familiar about him-a rawness in his gaze that made her feel b

sh of memories and questions. Was he just a local handyman? Or was there something more to him-something connected to the odd thing

as she left the room. The house would be her home now, and Shado

across the floor. It was time to get some rest-tomorrow, she would explore the town,

unding in her chest, she couldn't shake the feeling that som