The silence afterward was worse than the growling.
It pressed in on Seraphina's ears, thick and unnatural, as if Emberfall itself had gone rigid—waiting to see what would happen next. The fog thinned reluctantly, peeling away from the square and revealing the damage left behind.
Claw marks gouged deep into the stone pavement. The iron railing lay twisted and broken like snapped bones. Even the clock tower seemed altered somehow, its shadow stretching longer than it should have beneath the dim streetlights.
Seraphina's hands shook.
Kaelen stood a few feet away, shoulders rising and falling as he dragged air into his lungs. The wildness she'd seen in him moments ago—the barely restrained violence—had retreated, sealed away behind his guarded expression.
But it hadn't disappeared.
"What… what was that?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
Kaelen didn't answer immediately.
He crouched near the claw marks, fingers hovering just above the stone as if afraid to touch it. His jaw tightened.
"A scout," he finally said.
Her stomach twisted. "A scout for what?"
"For war."
The word landed hard between them.
Seraphina stared at him. "You can't just say that and expect me not to lose my mind."
He straightened slowly, eyes lifting to meet hers. There was no panic in them now—only grim certainty.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," he said. "Not yet."
"Not yet?" she echoed. "You said Emberfall lost its protection. What does that mean?"
Kaelen glanced toward the forest, scanning the shadows like he expected them to move again at any second.
"It means the boundary's broken," he said. "And once that happens, everything that's been keeping its distance stops being polite."
Her heart pounded. "You're saying there are more of those things?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
He hesitated.
"Enough."
A chill crept up her spine.
Sirens wailed in the distance—too late, too far away to matter. Emberfall's authorities always arrived after the danger passed, after the truth had already been buried beneath excuses and denial.
Kaelen noticed them too.
"They'll blame a bear," he said flatly. "They always do."
Seraphina laughed weakly, the sound cracking apart as it left her throat. "That thing wasn't a bear."
"No," he agreed. "It wasn't."
They stood there for a moment longer, surrounded by destruction no one else would acknowledge. Then Kaelen turned to her sharply.
"You need to go home."
She stiffened. "I'm not walking away from this."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not," she shot back. "You don't get to drag me into whatever this is and then shut me out."
His eyes darkened.
"I'm trying to keep you alive."
"By lying to me?"
"By limiting what you know," he snapped. "Knowledge gets people killed here."
Her anger flared, hot and sharp, cutting through the fear. "I was almost torn apart five minutes ago. I think we're past the point where ignorance is protecting me."
Kaelen opened his mouth—then closed it again.
Something shifted in his expression.
Reluctance.
Resignation.
"You don't understand Emberfall," he said quietly.
"Then explain it," she demanded.
He exhaled slowly.
"This town sits on a fault line," he said. "Not geological. Supernatural. Long ago, boundaries were drawn—agreements made between things that shouldn't exist and the people who needed them not to."
Seraphina's pulse quickened. "Agreements like what?"
Kaelen's gaze locked onto hers.
"Like keeping the monsters out," he said. "And keeping humans ignorant enough to survive."
Her breath caught.
"And now?"
"Now," he said, "someone broke the rules."
A shiver ran through her. "The werewolf?"
Kaelen shook his head. "No. He was just bold enough to test the line."
"Then who?"
His silence was answer enough.
Seraphina swallowed. "That thing said my blood smelled like destiny."
Kaelen's jaw clenched.
"I was hoping you hadn't heard that part."
"Too late."
He looked away.
"Kaelen," she said, softer now. "What am I to Emberfall?"
For a long moment, he didn't respond.
When he finally did, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"You're a catalyst."
The word echoed in her mind, heavy and ominous.
"For what?" she asked.
"For change," he said. "And in this world, change is violent."
The sirens grew closer.
Kaelen straightened, mask snapping back into place. "We shouldn't be here when they arrive."
"What about the damage?"
He gave her a grim smile. "Emberfall will forget by morning."
Something about that unsettled her deeply.
They moved quickly through the thinning fog, taking side streets away from the square. As they walked, Seraphina became acutely aware of the way the town felt different now.
Sharper.
More alert.
Windows seemed to watch her as she passed. Streetlights flickered, humming low like they were under strain.
She stopped suddenly.
Kaelen turned. "What is it?"
She pressed a hand to her chest. "I feel… strange."
His expression tightened instantly. "What kind of strange?"
"I don't know," she said. "Like something's buzzing under my skin."
He stepped closer, studying her face with intense focus. "Did it touch you?"
"No."
"Did it cut you?"
"No."
"Then don't ignore it," he said. "Pay attention. Changes don't always announce themselves."
That didn't help.
They reached her house in tense silence.
Kaelen stopped at the edge of the porch, refusing to step closer. "Lock your doors. Close your windows. If you hear anything outside tonight—anything at all—you don't answer."
Her stomach sank. "You're saying it might come back."
"I'm saying Emberfall has noticed you," he replied. "And so has everything else."
She hesitated. "Will I see you again?"
His eyes softened, just slightly.
"You won't get rid of me that easily," he said.
She watched him disappear back into the fog, moving with a predator's grace that sent a fresh wave of unease through her.
Inside, she locked the door and leaned against it, heart racing.
As she slid down to the floor, exhaustion finally hit her—but sleep refused to come.
Outside, the forest rustled.
And somewhere far beyond the tree line, something howled—not in hunger this time, but in recognition.
Seraphina closed her eyes.
Whatever she was, Emberfall knew now.
And there was no going back.