The clinic was quiet when I walked in.
Not silent—never silent—but controlled. The low hum of lights, the soft shifting of animals in their enclosures, the occasional metallic clink from the back room.
Normal.
For a few seconds, it stayed that way.
Then the first dog lifted its head.
Its ears pulled back slightly.
Another followed.
Then another.
A low whine spread through the room.
I slowed.
"…okay."
It wasn't loud. Not chaotic.
Just… wrong.
Like something in the room didn't belong. Like they were reacting to something they couldn't understand.
Something dangerous.
One of the larger dogs stood abruptly, pulling against its leash, teeth barely visible—not aggressive yet, but close.
Aware.
Scared.
Of me.
I didn't move closer. Didn't rush.
Didn't panic.
Instead, I adjusted.
My breathing slowed, controlled, steady. I lowered my gaze slightly—not submissive, not challenging—just enough to make myself less threatening.
The reaction shifted.
Not gone.
But reduced.
[Emotional Regulation +0.05][Control +0.04]
That worked.
I took a careful step forward.
The dog stiffened again—
Then paused.
Its breathing slowed slightly, and I caught it immediately.
I can affect them.
I crouched a little, extending my hand—not touching, just close enough to test the boundary.
The tension dropped further.
Not calm.
Still afraid.
But no longer resisting.
I exhaled slowly.
This wasn't in the show.
Which meant one thing.
This is mine. I can control this.
I didn't push it further.
Not yet.
Because the door burst open.
"I'm so sorry—can you help him?"
I turned.
Allison.
She stood there, breath uneven, soaked from the storm that must have started suddenly.
"I didn't see it," she rushed. "I looked away for like two seconds to change the song and it just ran out in front of me—a dog…"
"It's okay," I said, already stepping forward. "Where is it?"
"…in my car."
A moment later, we were outside.
I took the dog from the back seat.
And everything shifted.
The reaction was immediate.
A sharp twitch. A strained whine.
Fear.
I froze for half a second—
Then adjusted.
Breath. Focus.
Not forcing anything.
Just holding it steady.
[Emotional Regulation +0.06]
"It's okay…" I said quietly.
The tension cracked.
Not gone.
But weakening.
"…how did you do that?" Allison asked. "It didn't let me touch it."
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't have one.
I checked the leg.
Not broken.
But injured.
"I think I can stabilize it," I said. "I've seen the vet do it."
"Please," she said. "If you can help…"
I noticed she was still shivering.
"I've got a shirt in my bag," I said, handing it to her. "Use it."
She hesitated, then took it.
"Thanks… I feel really stupid."
I glanced up. "Why?"
She exhaled. "Because I freaked out like a total girl."
I almost smiled.
"You are a girl."
She shook her head. "No, I freaked out like a girly girl. And I'm not a girly girl."
I tilted my head slightly. "What kind of girl are you?"
"Tougher than that," she said. "At least… I thought I was."
I nodded. "Hey, I'd be freaked out too. I'd probably cry."
She looked at me.
"Not like a man," I added casually. "Like the biggest girly girl ever. It'd be pathetic."
She smiled despite herself. "Yeah, right."
I finished wrapping the leg carefully.
Then I paused.
Because this time, I wanted to try something intentionally.
I let my hand rest against the dog again.
Focused.
Not pushing.
Just reaching.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
Something shifted.
The dog's breathing eased. Its muscles relaxed.
I felt it.
Pain.
Not physical—not exactly—but something transferring.
Then a sharp pull followed.
Under my skin, dark lines flickered from my fingertips, crawling upward for a split second before disappearing just as quickly.
I pulled my hand back immediately.
"That should help," I said, keeping my voice steady. "You can try petting her now."
She hesitated, then reached out.
The dog didn't react.
"…okay," she whispered.
I nodded slightly.
Then I noticed something on her face.
"You've got something—"
I stepped closer and brushed lightly near her cheek.
"All good."
She blinked. "…thanks."
A pause followed—longer than it should have been.
Then I said it.
"There's a party after the scrimmage."
She looked at me.
"You should come."
She hesitated. "Friday's usually family night…"
I held her gaze. "Come for a little while."
A beat passed.
She smiled slightly.
"…family night was a lie."
I blinked. "…so that's a yes?"
She nodded. "Definitely yes."
I smiled.
And just like that, something shifted between us.
After she left, the clinic felt quieter.
But not empty.
I stood there for a moment.
Then tried again.
Breath.
Focus.
Control.
The air shifted slightly.
Subtle.
But real.
It's working.
That night—
Stiles didn't waste time.
"Okay, I've been researching," he said the second the call connected.
I leaned back slightly. "I figured."
"No, listen," he said. "This goes way back. Greek mythology level."
"There's this king—Lycaon. Zeus curses him, turns him into a wolf because he fed Zeus his own son to test whether the gods were actually powerful."
"And after that, there are stories that he got help controlling it."
I leaned forward slightly. "How?"
He pointed at the screen. "Druids."
"They weren't just human," he continued. "Some stories say they could shapeshift. They helped him change back—but it didn't cure anything. That's basically how werewolves started."
"And apparently, they helped others after that too… like guides or something."
I didn't respond.
Because I already knew.
"I'm going to the party," I said.
He froze.
"…you're what?"
"It's on the full moon," he said.
He stared at me. "Are you out of your mind?"
"I'm not losing control."
"You don't know that."
I held his gaze. "I'm already controlling it."
Silence.
He leaned back slowly.
"…this is a terrible idea."
He wasn't wrong.
But I wasn't changing my mind.
Later—
I stood in front of the mirror.
Still.
Focused.
I let it rise—
Then held it there.
My eyes shifted.
Yellow.
For a fraction of a second, something deeper flickered beneath it.
Then—
Gone.
I exhaled slowly.
No loss of control.
No shift.
Just control.
This time—
It would be different.