Embers of the Past

When Eliot's eyes opened, the dream's lingering effects were still there, like an unbreakable fog. The aftertaste of fear and desire sour in his mouth caused him to breathe in short breaths. Instinctively, he reached out, but the bed was empty and cold. Never empty. It never felt right to be next to him. Something he could not fully understand seemed to have been taken with the dream.

The actual dream was brief and intense, vanishing from his grasp like water. A woman's face was partially formed in the darkness of his memory, but the link between them was unmistakable. Deep inside, he sensed it. There was an indisputable charge in the air between them as she beckoned to him with a ferocity that left him gasping for air. The thought of her, that knowing smile she gave him, made his heart race. However, who was she? From where had she come?

Eliot ran a hand through his tangled hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Even though the room was dim and illuminated by the first rays of morning, he did not feel like he belonged there. His body hurt as though it had undergone an inexplicable change or metamorphosis. A strange, gnawing hunger squeezed his chest, and he winced. His body betrayed him in ways he did not yet understand, and his mind found it difficult to keep up with his feelings.

His phone was blazing with a new message as he took it off the nightstand. Mark, his best friend since college, said in a single sentence: "Another dream?" Eliot remained silent. He was unable to. Not quite yet. He required clarification. The dreams were getting too real, too overwhelming.

He changed into trousers and a hoodie and went to the window to gaze at the peaceful street below. Weeks had passed since the beginning of the dreams. A fresh piece of the puzzle every night. And the pain in his chest got worse with each one. It seemed as if his spirit itself was aching for an inexplicable thing. Something or someone. He could not get rid of the concept that kept bugging him.

It felt far away, alien, even if the gentle hum of the city outside reminded him of the normalcy he had known. He was changing, and it was more than just a fleeting emotion. He had no place here. No more.

Eliot left the flat after taking one last look at his phone, resolved to discover the answers that had escaped him in his nightmares.

As Eliot headed into the neighborhood café, his footsteps reverberated down the winding street. The streets were largely deserted on this calm morning, but his thoughts were anything but. His mind whirled restlessly as he recalled his most recent exchange with Mark. His friend had always been the pragmatic one, rejecting the unexplainable and the otherworldly. However, Eliot could not get rid of the impression that something irrational was at work.

The café door opened, and he was immediately greeted by the smell of freshly made coffee and baked goodies. However, he was not calmed by the familiarity of his routine today. His attention was drawn instead to the woman sitting by the window with her back to him and the way her presence seemed to eat up the air around her.

Leah.

He had no idea why he recognized her right away. She was only another lady, no different from the others, but as soon as his eyes met hers, a strong, acute magnetic draw swept through him. His heart pounded as though he had just entered a tempest. There was something about her that made his breath catch in his throat, even though she had not spotted him yet.

She was beautiful in a subtle and unobtrusive way. It was subtle—destructive in silence. Her posture was firm yet elegant, and her dark hair fell about her shoulders. She had an air, a conviction, and a power that was almost tangible, even from the rear.

For a minute, he stood motionless, unable to turn his head away from the questions racing through his head. What made her feel familiar? What made the attraction between them appear so strong?

He approached her mindlessly, his steps getting heavier by the second. Something inside of him pushed him ahead, as if he was destined to do this, even if he knew he was going over a line he could not define. She turned slightly as he approached, her gaze meeting his. Her features briefly flashed with recognition—surprise, perhaps terror, but something more profound as well. He could not place it, yet it pulled at the boundaries of his recollection.

"May I assist you?" Her voice was low and cautious as she requested.

He felt as though his system had been shaken. Nothing came out of his mouth when he opened it to speak. In his chest, his heart pounded. How could she have given him that look? As if she was familiar with him.

Eliot managed, his voice dry, to say, "I... I do not know." "I think I recognize you from somewhere." He could only speak those words, and even as they came out of his mouth, they felt strange.

There was a brief flash in her countenance as her eyes sharpened. But before he could figure it out, it was gone.

She turned back to the window and replied icily, "I think you are mistaken," straightening her back as if she had already brushed him aside.

Eliot's chest grew constricted. A thousand unspoken things suddenly weighed heavily on him. He stepped back and murmured, "I do not think so."

She did not turn around, though. And the unwavering sense that they were connected and that their encounter was not coincidental tore at him as he walked out of the café.

Eliot was unable to stop thinking about her. Her visage had tormented him ever since he would left the café. All he could think of was her eyes, the way they had met his. However, he failed to comprehend it. She was unfamiliar. Nevertheless, he was positive they had something in common.

He was startled out of his reverie by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. Mark texted: "Are you okay? You have not spoken since the café.

Eliot was unable to react as his fingertips lingered over the screen. Not quite yet. Not when his mind was racing with so much more. Rather, he brushed a hand through his hair and began to stroll, allowing his feet to lead him in an aimless manner. An stifling energy that seemed to cling to everything had made the air heavy. The world around him seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation of something.

The silence of the street was broken by a deep growl. His heartbeat quickened. The noise was near—too near. Something within of him was stirred by the deep, primordial rumble that reverberated in the recesses of his consciousness. He was not by himself.

His instincts took over, and his feet began to move more quickly. Something was watching him, but he had no idea what it was. His senses were intensifying, and he could feel every change in the environment around him, including the hairs on the back of his neck.

He froze as he turned a corner. A guy stood there in the wavering streetlight. He was tall, dark, and his face was hardly visible. However, Eliot was more interested in the feeling that encircled the man than in the way he looked. A dark, terrifying pull.

A knowing smile curved the figure's lips.

"Eliot," he said in a chilly, rapt voice. "Now is the moment."

Eliot's throat tightened with breath. The voice seemed frightfully familiar, as if he had heard it before, in a previous life. The figure moved closer, his eyes glinting in the dim light, his motions impossibly fluid.

"Who are you?" Despite his heart thumping, Eliot's voice remained firm as he commanded. His body tightened automatically, but he had no idea why.

The sound of the figure's laughter was icy. "Oh, you will remember me in due time. We have unresolved business, after all.

The man sprang forward, his speed unnatural, before Eliot could respond. Eliot's senses were racing to process the threat, and he barely avoided it. He could not understand the energy that seemed to change and thicken the air around him.

With a smile, the figure displayed fangs that were overly sharp and menacing. "You are not prepared for what is about to happen."

Eliot felt a chill go through him, and for the first time in his life, he felt a tether snapping inside of him.

The change was already under way.

Eliot stumbled back, his limbs twisted horribly as his body moved involuntarily. A primal fire ignited deep within him, and he felt the burn of it. He had a metamorphosis that went beyond a simple physical change. His senses sharpened to an incredible degree, and he gasped as his bones fractured and regenerated.

The figure growled, "Fight it." However, it was too late.

He was alert to his inner wolf.

Eliot hardly had time to get used to it before everything around him appeared to blow up. His thoughts were disorganized as instinct took over, and his eyesight became blurry as the adrenaline surged through him. He fixed his gaze on the figure, who was suddenly advancing more quickly than before. Inside, his wolf screamed for him to pursue.

However, the figure disappeared as he sprang forward, leaving behind just the sound of his laughter and the raging query that would haunt Eliot for weeks to come.