Chapter 2 — Into the Whispering Forest

Riley Thorn

Riley’s first steps into the forest felt like plunging into another world. The air thickened, humming with a strange energy that seemed to press against her skin. The trees towered unnaturally high, their gnarled limbs intertwining into a canopy so dense that only threads of dim golden light filtered through, casting eerie, fractured patterns on the forest floor. It wasn’t just dark—it was alive with an unsettling presence, as though the forest itself was watching.

She paused to adjust her bag, the leather straps digging into her shoulders. A deep breath brought the scent of moss and damp earth, but beneath that, something sharper lingered—a metallic tang that made her stomach tighten. Her father’s pendant, nestled against her chest, radiated a faint but steady warmth, like a pulse in time with her own heartbeat. It was the only thing grounding her in this alien place.

“Okay,” she muttered, gripping the pendant tightly. “This is… fine. Totally fine.”

The forest remained silent, but not the silence of emptiness. It was the kind of quiet that breathed, that shifted with unseen movements. The sensation made her skin prickle, her instincts screaming at her to turn back, to return to the safety of open fields and the small, predictable world she’d left behind.

But she couldn’t. The letter’s words burned in her mind, her father’s voice urging her forward. *You must enter the forest.* She clenched her jaw and took another step.

The further she ventured, the more the forest seemed to close in, the trees pressing closer together as if conspiring to trap her. Roots clawed through the dirt like skeletal hands, and the path—if it could even be called that—shifted beneath her boots. Every step became heavier as she pushed through tangled undergrowth and climbed over sprawling roots that seemed to grow taller with each passing moment.

She glanced back once, hoping to see the faint light of the forest’s edge. But it was gone. The trees had rearranged themselves, their shapes foreign and unfamiliar, as though mocking her. A shiver ran down her spine, and she tightened her grip on the pendant.

“Trust yourself,” she whispered, repeating her father’s words. “Trust this.”

The pendant flared gently, its warmth a beacon that guided her steps. It grew hotter when she wandered off course and cooled slightly when she corrected her path. It was the only reassurance she had, and she clung to it like a lifeline.

Hours passed—or perhaps it was only minutes. Time felt strange here. The forest’s shifting nature left her disoriented, but she pressed on, her steps steady despite the unease coiling in her chest. Just when she thought the oppressive quiet couldn’t grow heavier, the whispers began.

They started faint, like the wind rustling through leaves, brushing past her ears. At first, she dismissed them as her own nerves playing tricks on her. But the sound persisted, soft murmurs blending seamlessly with the creaks of branches and the crackle of distant leaves.

“Riley.”

Her heart jolted at the sound of her name, whispered so softly it was barely audible. She froze, her pulse pounding in her ears, and scanned the forest, but there was no one. The utter stillness of the trees only made the sensation worse—as if the forest itself had spoken.

“Hello?” she called out hesitantly, her voice trembling.

No answer. Only more whispers, weaving through the trees like smoke. Her name echoed again, overlapping with other sounds—too distorted to understand, too numerous to count.

Her breathing grew shallow, her hands trembling as she gripped the pendant tighter. “It’s just the forest messing with you,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “It’s not real.”

But the whispers didn’t stop. They grew louder, their indistinct words twisting into something sharper, more insistent. She quickened her pace, but the forest seemed to shift around her, the trees moving in her peripheral vision.

Then she saw him.

A figure stood ahead on the path, bathed in the faint glow of filtered light. Her breath caught as she recognized the flannel shirt, the sturdy boots—the unmistakable silhouette of her father.

“Dad?” Her voice cracked, the word escaping her lips before she could stop it.

The figure didn’t move.

“Dad!” she shouted, stumbling forward.

He turned slowly, his movements oddly rigid. But as his face came into view, her steps faltered. His features were blurred, indistinct, as though smeared by an unseen hand. His eyes glowed faintly, a burning ember-like light that pierced through the shadows.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Riley,” he said, his voice layered with echoes. It wasn’t her father’s voice.

Her chest tightened as the weight of the forest pressed down on her, suffocating and cold. “You’re not real,” she whispered, shaking her head.

The figure raised an arm, the motion jerky and unnatural, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. “Leave,” it said, its voice carrying a strange, hollow resonance. “Before it’s too late.”

Her legs locked in place, frozen by fear. The pendant against her chest seared suddenly, its heat snapping her out of her paralysis. She stumbled back, then turned and ran, her breaths ragged and shallow.

The whispers rose into a cacophony, screaming her name as she pushed through the undergrowth. Branches scraped her skin, roots snagged at her boots, but she didn’t stop. All she could think about was getting away, putting as much distance as possible between herself and that thing.

When she finally stopped, gasping for air, the whispers had vanished. Her surroundings had changed again. She stood in a clearing, the trees forming a wide, almost-perfect circle around her. The ground beneath her feet was soft with moss, faintly glowing with an otherworldly light that bathed the clearing in a surreal, ethereal glow.

Her pendant had cooled, its pulsing warmth now steady but faint. She clutched her knees, trying to catch her breath, her heartbeat thrumming against her ribs.

“Okay,” she whispered between gasps, her voice raw. “This… this is fine.”

A low growl broke the silence, deep and guttural.

Riley froze, her head snapping up. The sound came from the edge of the clearing, where the shadows shifted and moved. Her eyes darted between the shapes as they coalesced into forms—sleek, fluid, and predatory. Wolves.

They stepped forward one by one, their eyes glowing gold, their movements impossibly graceful. Their fur shimmered faintly in the moss’s glow, and their low, synchronized growls sent chills racing down her spine.

Her hands rose instinctively. “Easy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own pulse.

The wolves didn’t attack. They moved in unison, forming a circle around her, their deliberate steps tightening the perimeter. Riley’s breath hitched as she caught sight of the largest wolf stepping forward from the shadows.

He was enormous, his silver-gray fur catching the faint light like molten metal. His eyes—piercing, sharp, and impossibly human—locked onto hers with an intensity that made her knees threaten to buckle.

Before she could react, his body began to shift. Bones cracked and rearranged, muscles rippled, and fur receded, the transformation both mesmerizing and horrifying. In seconds, a man stood where the wolf had been.

Tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair was tousled and unkempt. A jagged scar ran from his left eyebrow to his cheekbone, lending his commanding presence an edge of danger. His gray eyes—unchanged and unflinching—bore into hers with a predatory sharpness that made her feel utterly exposed.

“What makes you think you belong here?” he demanded, his voice low and cold, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Riley swallowed hard, her mind racing. The pendant at her neck pulsed faintly, urging her forward.

“My name is Riley,” she said, the words barely a whisper. She clutched the pendant, holding it out for him to see. “I think… I think I’m one of you.”

The wolves behind him growled softly, their golden eyes narrowing. The man’s expression remained unreadable, but his gaze lingered on the pendant for a moment longer.

“Lunar Wolves.” He spoke the name almost to himself, his tone dark with hidden meaning. He turned back to her, his eyes narrowing. “If you truly are who you claim to be, you’ll have to prove it.”

Riley’s heart sank, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. Her chest tightened with fear, but beneath it, a flicker of determination burned brighter.

“Then tell me how,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor coursing through her.

He studied her in silence, the weight of his scrutiny almost unbearable. Finally, he nodded once.

“Follow me,” he said.

The wolves parted silently as he turned and walked toward the edge of the clearing, their glowing eyes fixed on her. Riley hesitated only for a moment before stepping after him, her pulse hammering in her ears.

The shadows swallowed them as they left the clearing, and with every step, Riley couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.