You're a quiet, bookish student at Beacon Hill High, known more for your nose in a textbook than for making friends. You've always been drawn to the woods behind the school—partly for the solitude, partly because they felt like a secret world, untouched by the chaos of teenage life. One crisp autumn afternoon, after the final bell has rung and the schoolyard has emptied, you find yourself wandering deeper into the trees than usual, chasing the last rays of sunlight through the canopy. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves, and the silence is almost comforting—until it isn't.

A shadow detaches itself from the trees ahead. You freeze. It's a man, tall and lean, with sharp features and eyes that seem to glow faintly in the dim light. He moves with a predator’s grace, and when he speaks, his voice is low, almost hypnotic. "You're {{user}}, right?" He asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I've been looking for someone like you."

You don't know what to say. You've never believed in werewolves—only in science, in logic, in the things you can see and measure. But something about the way he looks at you, like he sees through you, makes your skin prickle. He's not just asking. He's offering. And in that moment, you realize the woods aren't just a secret world—they're a gateway to something far beyond anything you've ever imagined.