**Chapter 4: The Unveiling**
The next morning dawned cold and quiet, but Eva barely noticed. She had spent the night tossing and turning, her mind replaying the eerie howls and the strange shadows she had seen outside. By the time the first light crept through her curtains, she had resigned herself to one thing—whatever was happening, she couldn't ignore it anymore.
Eva slipped out of bed, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, and made her way downstairs. She wasn't sure what she expected to find—maybe her parents would be at the breakfast table like always, sipping coffee and discussing work. Maybe everything would seem normal, like the strange revelations from the night before were just figments of her imagination.
But the moment she stepped into the kitchen, the uneasy tension hit her. Her parents, Nora and Jonathan Blake, were sitting at the table, their expressions strained. Her mother's coffee sat untouched in front of her, and her father, usually the calm and steady one, seemed unusually distracted.
"Morning," Eva said quietly, glancing between them. The air in the room felt thick, as though they were all waiting for something.
Her mother looked up, her eyes softer than usual, but filled with something Eva couldn't quite place—regret, maybe, or sorrow. "Eva, sweetheart, we need to talk."
Eva swallowed hard and sat down across from them, her heart racing. *They know.* Whatever she had heard last night, whatever secrets Crescent High held, her parents were part of it. And now, they were finally going to tell her the truth.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why am I at Crescent High? Why didn't you tell me about… about what's really happening there?"
Her father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before meeting her gaze. "Eva, there's something you need to understand about yourself—about us."
She stiffened. "About *us*?"
"Yes," her mother said, her voice low but steady. "Eva, you weren't just sick all those years. What you've been dealing with… it's connected to who you are. To who we are."
Eva's mind spun as she tried to grasp the meaning behind her mother's words. "Who you are? What does that even mean?"
Her mother exchanged a glance with her father before speaking again. "Eva, your father and I... we're not exactly like other people. We're werewolves."
Eva stared at her, waiting for the punchline, for some sign that this was just another twist in the strange, impossible dream she felt trapped in. But her mother's expression remained deadly serious.
"We're part of a long line," her father added, his voice calm but filled with an underlying tension. "Both your mother and I come from families with werewolf ancestry. When you were born, we thought you would inherit those traits too. But something… went wrong."
"Went wrong?" Eva echoed, her heart pounding. "What are you talking about?"
Her mother's eyes softened, filled with a sadness Eva had never seen before. "You were born sick, Eva. Weak. You didn't show any signs of transformation, any of the characteristics that all werewolf children develop early on. It was as if… you were different."
Eva's mind reeled. This couldn't be real. Werewolves? Her parents? And now she was supposed to be one too? "But… I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me? Why keep this from me all these years?"
Her father looked down, guilt flashing in his eyes. "We didn't know how. You were already going through so much. You were sick, fragile, and we couldn't risk telling you then. We didn't even fully understand what was happening ourselves."
Her mother nodded. "We took you to specialists abroad—people who understood werewolf biology. We traveled all over, seeking answers, trying to find out why you weren't transforming like you were supposed to. That's why we moved so often when you were younger."
Eva felt the air leave her lungs as she tried to piece it all together. The constant trips to hospitals, the endless doctors… it wasn't just about her being sick. It was because her parents were trying to figure out why she wasn't turning into a werewolf.
"We spent years trying to find a solution," her father continued, his voice heavy. "The treatments, the isolation—it was all meant to help you. But no matter what we tried, nothing worked."
Eva swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat. "So… you sent me to Crescent High because… what? You thought being around other werewolves might… fix me?"
Her mother hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. The doctors believed that if we exposed you to other werewolves, it might trigger the transformation. Being around others of your kind could help awaken the traits that have been dormant in you for so long."
Eva stared at them, feeling the weight of their words settle over her like a heavy blanket. "But I've never felt anything," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't feel like a werewolf. I don't… howl at the moon or turn into some creature. I'm just me."
Her father reached across the table, placing a hand over hers. "We know, Eva. But that's why Crescent High is so important. It's the best place for you to be right now. It's not just a school for werewolves; it's a place where you can learn about what you are—what you could become."
Eva pulled her hand back, feeling anger flare up inside her. "So you just sent me there without telling me? You let me walk into a school full of werewolves, knowing that I had no idea what was going on?"
Her mother flinched, her eyes brimming with guilt. "We didn't know how to explain it to you, not without overwhelming you. We thought it would be better if you found out slowly, on your own terms."
Eva stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "So all of this—all the hospitals, the treatments, the moves—it was because you thought I wasn't *werewolf enough*?"
Her father stood as well, his expression pained. "It's not like that, Eva. We were trying to help you. We were trying to find a way for you to live a normal life."
"A *normal life*?" Eva let out a bitter laugh. "How is this normal? How is any of this normal?"
Her mother stood, reaching out to her. "We're sorry, Eva. We thought this was the best way to keep you safe."
Eva took a step back, her heart racing, her mind spinning with everything they had just told her. "I need to go," she muttered, turning toward the door.
"Eva, wait—" her father began, but she was already halfway up the stairs.
She slammed her bedroom door behind her, her chest heaving as she tried to process everything. Her parents were werewolves. She was supposed to be a werewolf. And now, they had sent her to Crescent High in the hopes that she would somehow transform into the creature they thought she was destined to be.
She collapsed onto her bed, her mind swirling with anger, confusion, and fear. How was she supposed to come to terms with any of this? How could she live with the knowledge that she wasn't even fully human?
And worse, how could she trust her parents after everything they had kept from her?
Eva curled up, pulling the blankets over her head, wishing she could just disappear.