The morning air bit with autumn's chill as Ethan made his way through the compound, trying to look like he belonged in this weird mix of medieval aesthetic and supernatural summer camp. His body ached from another restless night on Meemaw's too-small bed, and the constant pull of the bond toward Julian's cabin felt like the world's most aggressive GPS recalculating in his chest.
Two days. Just two days since his life had gone from "concerning blackouts" to "full supernatural crisis speedrun." A week ago, his biggest problem had been waking up naked in the woods surrounded by very dead animals he definitely didn't remember killing. The kind of thing WebMD definitely didn't have a symptom checker for.
The first time it happened, he'd written it off as sleepwalking. Weird, sure, but manageable. The second time, finding deer blood under his fingernails while his AP Calc homework sat unfinished on his desk, was harder to explain away. By the third time, when he'd come to five miles deep in the forest with what looked like the cast of Bambi scattered around him in pieces, Michael had decided it was time to call in a favor.
"I know someone," Michael had said over breakfast, watching Ethan pick at his cereal. "An old friend from college. He specializes in... unusual cases."
Hannah had been worried, but trying not to show it. "Just be careful," she'd said, hugging him goodbye. The last time he'd ever feel his mom's arms around him, though he hadn't known it then.
The flashes hit without warning: Sarah's debate trophy knocked off her desk—flash—Jake's PlayStation controller still lit up—flash—Mia's stuffed wolf collection scattered across—no. But his mind wouldn't stop its highlight reel of horrors, showing him scenes from a massacre he hadn't witnessed but couldn't stop seeing. His own personal trauma Netflix, autoplaying the worst possible scenarios.
A group of wolves hauled supplies near the training grounds, their movements carrying the kind of fluid grace that made Ethan feel like he was still trying to figure out which end of the supernatural instruction manual was up. He caught their side-eyes and muttered comments before they even opened their mouths.
"Outsider," one of them said, loud enough to make sure Ethan heard it. Not that he needed the help—supernatural hearing was apparently part of the upgrade package he never asked for, right along with "traumatic murder visions" and "spontaneous combustion." Because apparently being a werewolf wasn't enough of a plot twist without adding pyrokinesis to the mix.
Flash: Hannah's kitchen timer, still beeping as the lasagna burned, her special Sunday recipe that he'd never taste again. Flash: Michael's broken glasses on the lab floor as rogues tore through security like they were auditioning for a particularly violent home renovation show. Two separate scenes of violence, connected by nothing except his complete failure to prevent either of them.
Dr. Krazinsky's lab had been hidden in the woods, the kind of place that screamed "definitely not approved by any ethics board" and "possible supervillain origin story." All chrome and antiseptic smell and equipment that looked more sci-fi than medical. Krazinsky himself had been tall and thin, with the kind of enthusiasm that should have been a red flag if Ethan hadn't been so desperate for answers.
"Fascinating," he'd said, studying readings that definitely weren't meant for standard medical equipment. "The cellular mutation rate is unprecedented. Have you noticed any other changes? Temperature fluctuations? Enhanced senses?"
Then the alarms had started, and "fascinating" had turned into "fatal" real quick.
"Got something to say?" Ethan kept his voice steady, though he could feel heat building under his skin like a warning label he couldn't read. The fire was always there now, a constant simmer just below the surface, waiting for an excuse to break free.
The tallest of the group stepped forward, a scar running down his cheek making him look like he'd failed an audition for supernatural villain of the week. "Yeah, actually. What're you even doing here? You're not pack. You're just some stray who wandered in thinking he was special because he's got a fancy bond."
Thunder rumbled overhead, though the sky had been clear moments ago. Flash: Sarah's pink homecoming dress turning red, shredded with monstrous claws. Flash: Jake's game still paused on screen, waiting for a player who'd never hit resume. Flash: Mia's math homework, the fractions they'd been working on together scattered across—
The blackouts had been bad enough. Waking up surrounded by dead forest creatures, trying to wash blood from under his nails before school, wondering if this was what a villainous origin story felt like. But now? Now he had two sets of horror movies playing in his head: the lab scene he'd actually witnessed, and the home invasion his mind wouldn't stop recreating in increasingly creative ways.
"You don't know anything about me," Ethan said, his voice carrying an edge that made one of the other wolves shift uneasily. Sparks danced between his fingers, unbidden, like his body was trying to remind him that normal post-adolescent angst usually didn't come with a side of pyrokinesis.
"Don't need to," Scarface sneered, apparently missing the memo about not poking the guy with unstable fire powers. "You're not one of us. And you never will be. Just because you've got some connection to Julian doesn't make you pack. What would your real family think?"
The sky darkened rapidly, clouds gathering like someone had hit fast-forward on a storm system. Two sets of memories crashed together: Michael dying to protect him in the lab while rogues tore through their home, through his family, through everything he'd ever loved. He hadn't been there to see it, but his mind kept showing him how it might have happened, each possibility worse than the last.
"Maybe we should back off—" one of the others started, finally noticing the way the air around Ethan seemed to shimmer with heat even as rain began to fall.
"Nah," Scarface cut him off, doubling down on his audition for Darwin Award nominee. "Let's see what the outsider's got. What're you gonna do, run crying to your boyfriend?"
Everything exploded at once. Lightning struck a nearby cabin with a deafening crack, igniting the roof instantly. Thunder boomed overhead like nature's bass drop, and Ethan's hands erupted in flames that definitely weren't staying contained to just his skin anymore.
The rage came then, hot and pure and devastating. Because while he'd been strapped to Krazinsky's exam table, watching his "fascinating readings" spike off the charts, rogues had been tearing through his home. Through his family. And his mind wouldn't stop showing him how: Hannah reaching for the phone. Sarah trying to shield Jake. Mia's stuffed wolves watching with blank button eyes as their owner—
"Oh shit," one of the wolves breathed, backing away as a second bolt of lightning found another cabin, setting it ablaze. The fire spread with supernatural speed, though thankfully both buildings were empty storage sheds.
Flash: The kitchen timer beeping endlessly. Flash: Michael's last words in the lab. Flash: Sarah's debate notes scattered like bloody confetti. Flash: Jake's game frozen on "PAUSE." Flash: Mia's wolf collection, cruelly prophetic now, arranged like mourners at their own funeral.
"I said," Ethan growled, his voice carrying an echo that definitely wasn't human, "you don't know anything about me."
The fire surged outward just as the heavens opened completely. Rain fell in sheets now, each drop carrying the weight of double grief—the father he'd watched die and the family he could only imagine dying, his mind helpfully providing every possible scenario in high-definition trauma vision.
Through the bond, he felt Julian's presence spike with concern, which only made everything more intense. Because Julian was part of this new life, this new family he was terrified of losing just like he'd lost everything else.
"Ethan!" Milly's voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline. She appeared with Luther in tow, both of them getting soaked as they took in the scene. "Maybe dial back the weather manipulation before you flood the compound?"
The fires were dying now, drowned under the weight of Ethan's unleashed grief. Luther had saved him from the lab, but they'd been too late to save anyone else.
"Stand down," Luther ordered the other wolves, who didn't need to be told twice. They scattered, Scarface included, though he managed one last glare over his shoulder.
Ethan stood in the downpour, letting it wash over him. Two days since his world had shattered. Since he'd lost everything—Michael to the lab invasion, the rest of his family to rogues, his normal life to whatever the hell he was becoming. The visions wouldn't stop, like his mind was determined to make up for his absence by showing him every possible way his family might have died.
"I didn't mean to," he managed, though the words felt inadequate. "I should have been there. Should have known when the blackouts started that something was wrong. If we hadn't gone to that lab, if I'd been home instead..."
"Hey," Milly said softly, moving closer despite the rain. "You couldn't have stopped it. They hit the lab and your home at the same time for a reason. They wanted to make sure you couldn't protect either."
The rain began to ease, though the clouds still hung heavy overhead. Through the bond, Julian's presence wrapped around him like a warm blanket, offering silent support and understanding. Because Julian knew what it was like to lose everything, to be caught between worlds.
Thunder rumbled one last time, softer now, like the storm was running out of energy. Ethan stared at the smoking, soaked remains of the cabins, wondering if this was what his life would be now—constantly trying to balance fire and rain, rage and grief, real memories and imagined ones that felt just as visceral.
"Come on," Luther said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's get you dried off. And Ethan? The powers of yours--you'll adapt to them. It won't get better, but you'll be able to control them."
The bond tugged insistently, and he knew Julian would be waiting. Probably already planning how to sign something that would make this whole mess seem less like a metaphysical breakdown and more like a necessary release of pressure.
At least the rain had put out the fires. Now he just had to figure out how to explain to his Uncle Lenny why their storage sheds had suddenly decided to self-immolate before getting baptized by his emotional baggage.
Maybe he could blame it on climate change. After all, his entire world had ended two days ago—what was a little weather manipulation in comparison?
The bond hummed steadily, reminding him that not all change was loss. Sometimes it was finding something new, something different but equally real. Even if that something came with complicated feelings and powers that apparently responded to emotional trauma by recreating scenes from storm-chaser documentaries.
He just hoped Julian liked rain. And that eventually, his mind would stop its double feature of horror—the lab scene he couldn't forget and the home invasion he couldn't stop imagining, each flash like a photo negative burned into his brain.