Chapter 7 Whisper in the

The night was cold again. Rain curled into herself behind a stack of discarded pallets, the dampness of the ground seeping through her clothes. Her eyes were half-lidded, and though she tried to stay awake, exhaustion clawed at her mind.

She didn't remember much about falling asleep. Her dreams were a tangle of shadows and voices, none she could recognize, and when she awoke with a start to the sound of a metal bin crashing nearby, her heart pounded like a drum.

A cat, she realized. Just a cat.

The streetlights flickered, painting the alley in stuttering gold. She pulled her knees to her chest and stared out at the world from her hollow corner. Something felt off tonight. The air was too still. The silence, too tight.

Somewhere beyond the alley, car engines purred and laughter echoed off distant walls. Life went on without her. She was used to that.

The sun rose slowly, like it wasn't sure it wanted to. As the shadows retreated, Rain emerged from her makeshift shelter. Her stomach ached, and her lips were cracked. She walked with her head down, hands in her pockets, careful not to draw attention.

The marketplace was busier than usual. Vendors shouted over each other, their hands waving fruit and bread. Rain hung near a stack of crates, pretending to examine a bruised apple. Her eyes darted from person to person, watching their routines, waiting for an opportunity.

That's when she felt it again-that prickling at the back of her neck. Like someone watching. She turned, scanning the crowd, but saw only the usual rush of strangers.

It had happened the day before too. And maybe the day before that. But she told herself it was paranoia. Just her mind playing tricks. Still, she couldn't shake it.

Meanwhile, far from the city, hidden deep in a forest draped in mist, the Wolf Council convened beneath the stone canopy of the ancient hall.

The chamber pulsed with quiet energy as firelight danced across furred faces. Eight wolves, draped in ceremonial armor, formed a circle around a broad table carved from moonstone. Malik stood at the center, his voice low but steady.

"The humans named Austin," he said, scanning the gathered eyes. "They vanished years ago. But records suggest they were last seen in Sector 11 of the Lower City."

Rick stepped forward from the shadows, taller and broader than the others, his silver-streaked fur catching the fire's glow. "What leads us there?"

"A coded message intercepted from the old networks," Malik replied. "Old magic signatures we thought were gone. They match what we found near the Austin settlement."

The wolves exchanged glances, the weight of this mission clear.

"They were important once," murmured Elder Kiro, his voice gravel. "Too important to simply vanish."

"We're not hunting ghosts," Malik said, placing a scroll on the table. "We need confirmation. Find them. Bring them in quietly. We'll decide what comes next after that."

A low growl of approval circled the room.

Rick nodded. "I'll take the Outer Trackers. We'll blend with the shadows. No one will see us."

Malik locked eyes with him. "No mistakes, Rick. This is not a hunt. It's a recovery."

Back in the city, Rain had wandered to the edge of the market, her fingers brushing the stones of a fountain. The feeling hadn't left her. Eyes still followed. But there was no one. No one she could see.

She found shelter that evening under a bridge near the rail tracks. The sound of the trains was comforting somehow. Predictable.

Just as she was closing her eyes, a truck swerved sharply above, tires screeching. She ducked instinctively. A large metal pipe dislodged from the bridge's edge, crashing into the wall beside her.

Had she been one step to the right...

Her heart thudded. Was this another coincidence?

She stared up at the dark, her breath shallow.

Something was coming. She could feel it.

She just didn't know what.