Chapter 1 — Return to Willow Creek
She told herself she’d never come back. And yet, here she was—driving straight into the belly of the beast.
The car's tires whispered over the damp, winding road, the mist curling around the vehicle like it had a mind of its own. Rae Calloway’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her grip so tight it made her fingers ache. The dense evergreens lined the road like sentinels, their branches arching over the asphalt in a near embrace, stealing what little light the afternoon had left to offer.
Even with the windows sealed, the scent of pine and damp earth seeped in—raw, familiar, and unwelcome. It pulled at her chest like a memory with claws.
The radio crackled softly, static-washed and tuneless. Rae didn’t hear it. Her mind was too loud. Her stomach twisted as the fog parted just enough to reveal a sign looming ahead, words fading and cracked:
Welcome to Willow Creek.
Her foot twitched on the gas pedal.
She could still turn around. But the pull was stronger than fear—an old instinct she thought she'd buried. The kind that whispered not just of danger, but of belonging. Something was waiting in Willow Creek. And it wasn’t just the past.
“Mom, do you think they have owls here?” came a bright, curious voice from the back seat.
Rae flicked her gaze to the rearview mirror. Lila’s golden-green eyes sparkled as she pressed her nose to the window, wide with wonder. Her wild auburn curls were a tangled halo, and her arms wrapped protectively around her threadbare stuffed rabbit.
“Or maybe deer! I bet there are deer. Or squirrels! I love squirrels!”
“Probably all of those,” Rae replied, forcing calm into her voice. “It’s their world out there—foxes, owls, all kinds of watchers.”
Lila squealed, delighted. “Awesome! Do you think we’ll see them soon?”
“Maybe,” Rae said, lips tugging into a brittle smile. “This place breathes, Lila. It always has.”
It wasn’t a lie. The woods around Willow Creek had always felt alive. But not in the way children dreamed of. They whispered. They watched. And Rae could feel it now more than ever—an ancient awareness pressing against her skin like breath on the back of her neck.
Lila’s chatter flowed, painting a world full of foxes and owls and forest magic. Rae answered absently, her thoughts already clawing backward. To him.
To Kael.
The way his eyes had flared gold in the dark.
The blood on his hands—someone else’s, but it hadn’t mattered.
The sound of her name as he called after her, raw and broken.
She'd sworn never to return. And yet—she had. For Lila. Because her daughter’s gifts were surfacing, and they couldn’t be ignored. Because she needed protection Rae wasn’t sure she could give—but had to try.
The trees thinned. The mist opened just long enough to show a glimpse of the town.
Willow Creek looked almost frozen in time. Wooden buildings slumped together like old men, moss crawling over rooftops, windows fogged and blind. The narrow streets slithered between them like veins, disappearing into hills shrouded in shadow.
Rae turned down the dirt road toward her grandmother’s cottage. Lila had gone quiet, wide-eyed at the world outside.
The car stopped in front of the old house. Ivy draped its sagging frame like a second skin. The porch was blanketed in pine needles and fallen leaves. The structure leaned, but it hadn’t collapsed. Not yet.
“This is it,” Rae murmured.
“It’s so pretty!” Lila said, leaning forward, face glowing.
Pretty wasn’t the word Rae would’ve chosen. The cottage looked… claimed. As if the forest had wrapped around it and said mine.
Rae stepped out, the air cool and sharp against her skin. The smell of earth and rain filled her lungs. Lila tumbled out behind her, twirling, rabbit in hand.
“Can I look inside?” Lila asked, breathless with excitement.
Rae nodded, throat tight. “Go ahead.”
They climbed the porch steps, creaking underfoot. Rae slid the brass key into the lock, one she hadn’t touched in a decade. The door groaned open, exhaling lavender and cedar—ghost scents of her grandmother.
The living room was small but familiar. The stone fireplace loomed against one wall, furniture sunken with age, shelves stuffed with books and jars that hadn’t moved in years. Dust softened the edges of everything.
“Look, Mom! There’s a fireplace! And paintings!” Lila cried, stopping in front of an old canvas propped against the wall—Rae’s, from another life.
“You painted this?!” Lila gasped.
Rae nodded. “A long time ago.”
Her eyes drifted to the kitchen, where her grandmother used to hum lullabies and brew herbs for half the town. The ache of grief was sudden and sharp.
“Can I go upstairs?” Lila asked, already climbing.
“Careful,” Rae called after her, but her daughter’s laughter was already dancing down the hallway above.
Rae unpacked in silence, setting bags by the couch. The kitchen was dusty but intact. Cabinets still held dried herbs—lavender, thyme, sage. Her grandmother’s touch was everywhere.
“It’s just a house,” she whispered. “Just a house in the middle of nowhere.”
But the lie trembled in her throat.
That evening, after a quiet dinner and Lila’s favorite card game, Rae tucked her into bed. The room still held Rae’s old books, the faded quilt, the rocking chair. She smoothed Lila’s curls as the child yawned.
“Mom?” Lila whispered.
“Yes, baby?”
“Why did we come here?”
Rae paused, heart clenching. “We needed a fresh start. And this place… it’s special. It’s safe.”
Lila studied her with thoughtful eyes—too knowing for her age. “Okay. Goodnight, Mom.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
She kissed her daughter’s forehead, lingered a second too long, then turned off the light.
Rae stepped out onto the porch. The night had deepened, and mist clung to the ground like breath. Darkness pooled beneath the trees, thick and knowing.
Stillness wrapped around her, the kind that made you feel like you were being watched.
Her arms folded tightly. The memories pressed close. That night. That howl. Kael’s voice, torn by pain. The blood.
A howl cut through the silence—low and mournful.
It froze Rae to the bone.
Her breath caught, and she clutched the shawl tighter.
“What have I brought her into?” she whispered.
No answer came from the woods. Just breathless stillness. But the echo of the howl lingered, curling through the mist like a promise.
