ke a warning, like the world outside my door had suddenly shifted into something darker, something primal. I hadn't slept well, m

ional part of me wanted to dismiss it all as coincidence, maybe even my overactive imagination. But deep down, I knew better. There wa

but wonder if Professor Blackwood would touch on the very legends that haunted this place. My heart raced slightly at the thought of him-hi

the front of the room, his tall frame shadowed by the dim light filtering through the windows. There was something about the way he carried himself t

for a brief moment. It was like he could see through me, right down to the thoughts I was trying to hid

"we'll be discussing werewolves. Not the Hollywood versions with their silve

me so real to me over the last few days. The legends I had read about were ancient, older than Crescent Fal

opes, are often seen as cursed beings-men who, either by birth or through a bite, are doomed to trans

his voice had that effect. He made it feel like he was unlocking some secret p

deep connection to the natural world. And in the most ancient of tales, the transformation into a wolf wasn't seen as a cu

inside me. Could there be some truth to it? That the wolv

acred, "formed packs, bound by an unbreakable bond. They ruled the forests, not a

had read the night before: *The wolves of Crescent Falls were not just protectors of the land; the

es were too st

witch into the faintest of smiles. It was as if he knew-knew that some of us were beginning to understand

rewolves of Crescent Falls had been guardians of something ancient, something p

ne was casual, almost dismissive, but I didn't believe it for a second. He knew something mo

of history, trying to make sense of what it all meant. I couldn't shake the feeling that these myths were

dn't want him to see how much his words had affected me. But as I moved toward the door, somethin

ld books section beckoned me like a siren call, and I found myself w

en I s

den among the larger volumes. It was ancient, the spine cracked

barely readable: The

l legible. These weren't just stories-these were accounts. Written by

what I was holding. This was it-the tr

by a faint symbol of a wolf,

involved the pack, the land, and som

e jump. I glanced around, heart pounding, as if som