Caius's Pov
Werewolves weren't the first to walk this land.
It was one of those facts you were supposed to tuck away in the back of your head, like a weird piece of family history no one wanted to talk about but everyone knew. Long before the pack built their houses and carved their borders into the NorthEast, there were… things here. Not wolves. Not human. Not anything I could put a label on.
Spirits.
That was what we called them, because it was easier than trying to explain the unexplainable. They weren't tied to any known creature or specie. They just… were, manifesting in different forms.
Even before I went to the academy, I'd learned the basics: the spirits lived in the bones of the land. The pack had learned long ago not to waste time trying to drive them out—it was a fight no one could win. Most of the time, they slept. And when they were awake, they were harmless.
Until now.
My father's words still echoed in my head, heavy as stones.
