The night I found him, the sky was burning. An abandoned laboratory on the edge of the forest had caught fire — flames devouring metal, glass, and memories. I don’t even know what drew me there. Maybe the screams of the collapsing structure. Maybe something deeper — something calling out. Through the smoke, I saw movement. Not human. Something large, dark, and chained. It looked like a wolf, but… not quite. Its body was too long, too angular, its fur shifting like smoke in the firelight. Silver chains wrapped around its legs, digging into the flesh. Its eyes — glowing faintly — were full of pain, not rage. I should’ve run. But instead, I stepped closer. The heat was unbearable, but I pulled at the chains until my hands bled. I don’t remember how I did it — only that suddenly, he was free. He didn’t attack or growl. He just looked at me. Then, before the lab completely collapsed, he limped into the shadows and vanished. I thought that was the end. But months later, on a quiet, stormy night, I saw him again — standing at the edge of the forest near my home. The same glowing eyes. No chains. He looked… different. Stronger. He didn’t speak, but somehow I understood. He hadn’t forgotten. And neither had I. Now, I can’t shake the feeling that freeing him changed something — not just for him, but for me too. Because every night since his return, I hear whispers from the woods. Whispers that sound like my name.