The wind howled through the pines as night fell over the clearing. A chill hung in the air, thick with tension. Desmond stood near the edge of the campfire, his body sore from training, his mind sharper than ever. The fire crackled, casting shadows across his face, his eyes locked on the flame—focused, calculating.
Leona sat cross-legged across from him, chewing on dried meat. Elias stood further back, arms crossed, watching the night like he expected something—or someone.
"You're improving faster than we expected," Leona said, her voice edged with both praise and warning. "But speed doesn't guarantee survival."
Desmond didn't reply. He was listening—to the wind, to the woods. And then... a whisper.
A strange pressure washed over him like a wave, just a fleeting moment of stillness.
His head snapped up. "Did you hear that?"
Leona blinked. "Hear what?"
Desmond's eyes narrowed. "A voice."
Elias stepped forward. "What did it say?"
Desmond hesitated. The words still echoed faintly: "He walks the path between light and shadow… the old blood stirs again."
He looked to Elias. "Something about old blood. A path between light and shadow."
Elias's expression shifted slightly—recognition. And concern.
"I was hoping we'd have more time," he muttered. "That wasn't a werewolf. That was a witch."
Desmond's jaw clenched. "There are witches now?"
Leona leaned forward, intrigued. "If they're taking interest in you… things are moving faster than any of us planned."
Elias nodded slowly. "Witches don't just appear. They sense. Something about you is drawing them out."
Desmond recalled the words from his notebook—theories about ancient bloodlines, supernatural anomalies, lost legacies. He began to wonder… was he truly just an accident of fate? Or was he something that had been brewing in the supernatural world long before his reincarnation?
"I need answers," he said. "Real ones. Who I am. What I am."
Leona exchanged a look with Elias before pulling something from her jacket. A black stone, etched with glowing runes.
"This is witchcraft," she said. "Stolen from a coven we fought in Oregon. It reacts to magical anomalies."
She held it near Desmond. The runes pulsed with an eerie violet light.
Elias's voice was barely above a whisper. "He's not just a supernatural. He's something ancient."
The stone vibrated violently and then cracked in Leona's hand.
Desmond stared at it, his heartbeat rising.
"Whatever I am," he said slowly, "others already know. The man in the alley. The voice in my head. The wolves who saved me. They're all moving like I'm some kind of... puzzle piece."
Elias stepped forward. "You're not a piece, Desmond. You're the key."
Forks — Midnight
Bella lay in bed, staring at her ceiling. Something was off. Her heart beat faster for no reason. She felt... watched.
Outside, in the woods beyond the house, a pair of eyes blinked in the dark.
"Not yet," a voice whispered. "But soon."