Chapter 1 — Whispers in the Woods

Liam Carter

The town of Ashwood clung to routine like a lifeline, its narrow streets and weathered buildings frozen in time. Liam Carter trudged down Main Street, his hood pulled low over his forehead to obscure his face. The air smelled of rain, though the clouds hung in an indecisive gray, reluctant to release it. His boots scuffed against the cracked pavement, a sound drowned out by the distant hum of a lawnmower and the occasional bark of someone’s dog. Life here moved relentlessly normal, and Liam hated it for that.

School had been unbearable. Again. He’d spent most of the day pretending he didn’t notice the stares, the way his classmates avoided sitting too close to him, the whispers that followed him wherever he went. It wasn’t bullying, not exactly—more like he’d been marked with some invisible stain, a quiet consensus among his peers that he didn’t belong. Even the teachers hadn’t called on him in weeks, whether out of pity or simply forgetting he existed, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

During lunch, he had overheard two classmates talking in hushed tones about the forest, their curiosity laced with unease. “I swear I heard someone screaming out there last night,” one had whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “My dad says it’s just coyotes,” the other replied, “but... I don’t know. It sounded different.” The mention of Blackthorn Forest sent a shiver down Liam’s spine, though he couldn’t explain why. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling since.

And then it had started. A pressure behind his eyes, subtle at first, like the faintest hum of static. By the time the final bell rang, it had grown into something undeniable—a pull, inexplicable but so strong it felt like an extension of himself. The sensation coiled tight in his chest, pushing, urging, demanding.

Now, as his feet carried him closer to Blackthorn Forest, Liam tried to suppress the voice in his head telling him this was a bad idea. The forest had always been a place of unease, the kind of wild space children dared each other to venture into on Halloween nights. His mom had warned him to stay away from it more times than he could count, though she’d never explained why. He’d chalked it up to her overprotectiveness, the same instinct that led her to ground him for three days when he’d come home with a scratched-up knee after climbing the old clock tower last summer.

But this was different. The pull wasn’t just curiosity or rebellion—it felt like the forest itself was calling him. He hesitated at the edge, staring into the shadows between the trees. The sensation in his chest intensified, a tug so strong his legs moved before his mind could stop them.

The air inside the forest was different—cooler, heavier, as if it carried the weight of centuries. The scent of damp earth and moss wrapped around him, mingling with something sharper, like the tang of metal. Shadows stretched long and strange, cast by the faint light filtering through the canopy above. Liam’s breathing quickened as he followed the invisible pull, his steps faltering on the uneven ground.

It wasn’t just the forest—something else was alive here.

A soft rustling came from somewhere to his left. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest as his eyes darted toward the sound. Nothing. Just the wind stirring the leaves. He exhaled slowly, willing himself to calm down, but the unease gnawed at him. A sound like whispering drifted through the trees, faint and indistinct. He turned in a slow circle, his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Is someone there?” His voice came out hoarse, swallowed almost immediately by the forest’s dense silence. “This isn’t funny.”

The whispering grew louder, though he still couldn’t make out the words. It wasn’t coming from any one direction—it was everywhere. Surrounding him. Inside him. His knees buckled as a sudden pain lanced through his skull, sharp and blinding. He fell to the forest floor, clutching his head as the world spun around him. His breaths came in shallow gasps, panic rising like a tide.

The pain spread, radiating down his spine and into his limbs. His muscles seized and twitched, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might be dying. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the pain shifted. It wasn’t fading—it was transforming, becoming something raw and primal. It burned through him, consuming his thoughts, his fears, his sense of self. He tried to scream, but the sound that escaped his throat was a guttural growl, unrecognizable and feral.

His hands slammed into the ground, fingers clawing at the dirt as his nails lengthened into talons. His bones cracked and reshaped, his body stretching and contorting in ways that defied logic. Fur erupted across his skin, dark and coarse, as his vision turned sharp and tinged with a faint green glow. He could see everything—the veins of leaves overhead, the movement of ants on the ground, the faint trail of a deer that had passed through here hours earlier.

Liam’s mind fought to hold on, to understand what was happening, but it was like trying to grasp water with his hands. Something else was taking over, something ancient and wild. The serpent in his chest had uncoiled, and now it was him. Hunger burned in his belly, not for food but for freedom, for the thrill of the hunt, for the raw satisfaction of tearing something apart.

He stumbled to his feet—or rather, his paws. His legs felt powerful, coiled springs ready to launch him into the night. The world was impossibly vivid, every sound and scent a symphony of sensation. He could hear the heartbeat of a rabbit nearby, fast and frantic, and the rustle of wings as an owl took flight.

But beneath the exhilaration, fear lingered, sharp and cold. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am. He tried to hold onto the thought, but it was slipping away, drowned out by the pounding rhythm of his new instincts.

The whispers returned, louder now, and for the first time, they formed words.

“Run.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted through the trees, his movements fluid and effortless. Branches whipped past him, but he barely noticed them. The forest blurred around him, and for a moment, he felt invincible, unstoppable.

Then he heard it.

A howl, deep and resonant, echoing through the forest. It wasn’t his own. It was distant but closing in, a sound that carried both a warning and a challenge. Liam skidded to a stop, his claws digging into the earth as he whipped his head around, trying to pinpoint the source.

The fear returned in full force, cutting through the haze of instincts. He wasn’t alone out here. And whatever else was in the forest—it was coming for him.

He turned and ran again, this time not out of exhilaration but out of desperation. The ground seemed to tilt beneath him, his newfound strength propelling him forward even as his mind screamed for him to stop, to think, to understand. But there was no time. The howls multiplied, surrounding him, and he realized too late that he had no idea where he was going.

The whispers grew deafening as he stumbled into a clearing, the moonlight streaming down like a spotlight. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the mossy ground, his breath ragged and his body trembling. The whispers faded, replaced by the sound of his own heartbeat, loud and erratic.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, from the shadows at the edge of the clearing, a pair of glowing amber eyes appeared, watching him with a predatory stillness.

Liam’s heart sank as he realized he wasn’t the only monster in Blackthorn Forest tonight.