The loud bang at the door sent
Emma’s heart racing. Max stood
rigid, his growl low and menacing,
His fur bristled as the shadow behind the frosted glass shifted slightly.
“Who’s there?” Emma called out, her
voice trembling.
No response.
Her mind raced. The note, the whispers, the glowing rune- everything seemed connected, but the pieces didn’t fit. She reached for her phone, but Max barked sharply,
startling her. His eyes were fixed on
the door.
Gathering what courage she could
muster, Emma inched closer and
peeked through the peephole. A
figure in a hooded cloak stood on the
porch, obscured by the dim light.
“Go away!” she shouted.
The figure didn’t move but finally
spoke in a gravelly voice. “You’re in
danger, Emma. Let me in before they come back.”
Her breath hitched. How did they
know her name? She looked down at
Max, who growled louder, baring his
teeth.
“No. Tell me who you are first!”
The figure raised a hand, revealing an object that glimmered faintly under the porch light. “I have answers. But time is short.”
Emma hesitated, her hand hovering
over the lock. Everything in her
screamed to stay away, but curiosity
-and desperation–overruled her
fear.
With Max at her side, she unlocked
the door but kept the chain on. The
figure’s face remained hidden, but
they slipped the object through the
gap–a small, rusted medallion with
the same rune engraved on it.
Emma’s eyes widened “Where did you get this?”
The figure leaned closer, their voice
urgent. “He’s not just a dog. The
protector chose him. But they’ll come for him-and for you. You need to leave this place.”
“Who’s coming? What do they want
with Max?”
The figure stepped back, glancing
around nervously. “The mark binds
you both. You have until the next
moonrise to prepare.”
Before Emma could ask anything else, the figure turned and disappeared into the night, swallowed by the shadows.
Max nudged her leg, drawing her
attention back to the medallion. Its
edges were worn, but the rune
glowed faintly, almost in sync with
the emblem on Max’s collar.
As she closed the door, she felt a
surge of unease. The house seemed
darker, the air heavier.
Max whimpered softly, pressing
close to her side.
Emma clutched the medallion tightly
“What have I gotten us into, Max?”
The question hung in the air as the
whispers began again, faint but
unmistakable.
This time, they came from inside the house.