The first time I realized there was something else in me besides strength and hunger was when the forest… obeyed.
I had been walking for a long time. How long - hard to say: time in this world flowed strangely. The sky grew gray, then dark, then gray again. I almost never saw the sun - only a vague, pale glow somewhere behind the clouds.
Hunger had become a familiar background. Unpleasant, but known. I'd learned to push it away, like noise in the next room: it's there, but you don't have to react to it every second.
The forest around me was changing. The trees grew sparser, the trunks thicker, bare patches of ground appeared under my feet where the snow had been beaten down and packed by something large. Tire tracks, ruts, broken branches - sometimes I'd come out to such places, then dive back into the thicket.
And all the time - I was being pulled forward. Toward that picture in my head: black vines on walls, towers, gates.
Nevermore.
I didn't know how far it was. Didn't know if there was any logic of distance at all between this forest and the academy. But every time I tried to turn aside, something inside me pulled unpleasantly, like a muscle being twisted the wrong way.
*You're being pulled to the pack,* - the voice said once. - *Even if you won't admit to yourself that you don't want to be alone.*
"I want control," - I answered. - "And alone, I won't keep it. That's all."
He didn't argue. And that worried me more than any mockery.
***
I noticed the oddity in the evening - if it was evening.
The gray light began to slowly fade, and the forest once again sank into that thick, viscous darkness in which I had first woken up. I was walking down a slope, carefully stepping around rocks, when I slipped and went sliding down.
Before, I would have just fallen. Now - my body reacted on its own. I threw out my hands, braced myself against the ground, turning, and at the moment when I should have crashed into a trunk, something around me… shuddered.
The air became denser. As if an invisible barrier had appeared between me and the tree for a split second. I felt it give way, bend - and push me aside.
I rolled through the snow and stopped, breathing hard. My heart was pounding, but not from exhaustion - from a strange, sticky feeling: the world had just interfered with my fall.
*That's not the world,* - the voice said calmly. - *That's you.*
"Me?" I -sat up and looked around. The tree stood as it had. No signs of impact, no cracks. - "I didn't even have time to…"
*You didn't have time to think,* - he corrected. - *But your body did. And not just your body.*
The snow around me was… different. Where I had rolled, the crystals weren't just crushed - they seemed half-melted, smoother, denser. I ran my fingers over it - the surface felt like glass under a thin layer of powder.
"What was that?" - I asked.
*Instinct,* - the voice replied. - *And a small part of what you can do.*
"Be more specific," - I gritted out. - "I already 'can' way too much."
He fell silent. And for the first time, his silence wasn't lazy or mocking, but… weighing.
*You're not just stronger, faster, and hungrier,* - he began slowly. - *You're something that was never meant to be in this world. And the world feels it.*
"And…?"
*Either it will reject you. Or it will adjust. A wendigo is not just a predator. It's a crack. Between the living and the dead. Between warmth and cold. Between 'before' and 'after'.*
The words settled in the air like heavy frost.
"You're saying I can… break reality?" - I tried to translate it into something understandable.
*No,* - the voice cut off. - *But you can… bend it. Just a little. Around yourself. Where the hunger is strongest.*
I remembered the crack in the air above the footprint. That black one, leading nowhere. And how, after my "yes," the world had gone to pieces.
"Is this… magic?" - I asked, feeling how stupid it sounded out loud.
*Call it what you like,* - he chuckled. - *Mystical abilities. A curse. A gift. The essence is the same: you affect what you're not supposed to touch.*
I got up and went over to the tree I'd almost met with my head. I put my palm to the trunk.
"And how does it work?"
*You are cold,* - the voice said quietly. - *You are hunger. You are emptiness that wants to be filled. Everything you touch feels it. All living things pull away. Everything dead is drawn to you.*
I ran my fingers over the bark. Under my hand the tree… flinched. I felt the sap under the bark freeze for a second, heard the faint creak of fibers. As if the tree was trying to move away, though it couldn't.
I jerked my hand back.
"Perfect," - I exhaled. - "I am officially the worst neighbor in this forest."
*That's passive,* - the voice went on, ignoring the sarcasm. - *What you did when you were falling is different. You instinctively pushed yourself away from the impact by compressing the space between you and the tree. Compressed the cold.*
"Compressed… what?" - I repeated.
*You won't understand yet. And you don't need to,* - he said, unexpectedly harsh. - *What matters is this: you can do it. Consciously. And not only for defense.*
Something unpleasant stirred inside.
"Talk," - I said, flexing my fingers. - "While I can still choose what to use and what not to."
***
The first "training session" happened by accident.
I was walking along a small ravine when I heard a scream. Sharp, desperate. Animal.
The hunger responded instantly.
I could almost taste blood I hadn't yet seen. My muscles tensed on their own, my body leaned forward like a predator that has scented prey.
I froze.
"Easy," - I told myself. - "First we look. Then we decide."
Now I could sneak almost effortlessly. The snow under my feet rustled so quietly I barely heard it myself. I moved from trunk to trunk, merging with the shadows. If someone had been watching from the side, they probably wouldn't have noticed anything. And that was the scariest part.
I peered over the edge of the ravine.
Down below, in a narrow snowy hollow, two wolves had cornered a deer. It was trying to get up, but its hind leg was broken - bent at an unnatural angle. The snow around was already stained with blood. One wolf had its jaws at the deer's throat, the other at its flank.
The smell hit me in the face
Warm. Fresh. Strong.
The hunger roared.
*Go,* - the voice whispered. - *They're not people. This is a hunt. The law of the forest. You'll just… take your share.*
My fingers dug into the edge of the ravine. The snow under my hands became denser, almost like ice.
"I don't touch people," - I croaked. - "We didn't make any deal about animals."
*Then why did you come here?* - the voice asked gently. - *To watch? To torture yourself?*
I watched.
The deer wheezed and thrashed. The wolves tugged and tore. Blood arced in a bright spray, droplets flying through the air, and each one felt like a separate blow to my self-control.
I felt a spasm run along my teeth. The roof of my mouth cramped in anticipation. Something was rising in my throat… not saliva. Something else. Cold and hot at the same time.
"I'm not…" - I began, and broke off.
Because at that moment one of the wolves raised its head and looked straight at me.
It couldn't see me. I was higher up, in shadow, the wind was blowing from me. And yet its gaze locked exactly on my face. Yellow eyes widened. Ears flattened.
The wolf growled. Not threateningly - fearfully.
The second, noticing its reaction, raised its head too. It sniffed. Froze.
For a second, the ravine became very quiet. Even the deer, choking on its own breath, seemed to slow its movements.
The animals had felt me.
*They feel the cold,* - the voice said. - *They feel that something is here that is above them in the chain. Much higher.*
The wolves backed away from the prey, not taking their eyes off me. One quietly tucked its tail. The other stepped back, then again. They didn't howl, didn't attack - they just… left. Silently. Quickly.
The deer was left lying alone.
Alive. But not for long.
I exhaled.
"I scared them off," - I said. - "Just… by being here."
*That's also part of your nature,* - the voice nodded. - *Lesser predators don't want to share territory with you. They feel you are something that doesn't eat from the same bowl as they do.*
"And what am I supposed to do now?" - I asked, looking at the deer.
It twitched, tried to lift its head. Its eyes were full of panic. It didn't understand what had happened. It only knew two things: pain and fear.
The smell of blood was almost unbearable.
*Let's see how good your balance is,* - the voice said quietly. - *You can leave. Let it die slowly, in agony. Or…*
"Or finish it," - I said for him. - "And… eat."
*It's going to die anyway,* - he reminded me softly. - *It's not a human. It's food. The law of the forest. You won't break your rules.*
I jumped down into the ravine.
The snow caught me softly. The deer jerked harder, tried to crawl away, but the broken leg wouldn't let it. I came closer.
The eyes. Big, dark, full of terror.
I reached out - not to the throat, no. To the head. I put my palm between the antlers.
The cold inside me responded.
*You can do it quickly,* - the voice prompted. - *Just… freeze it.*
I closed my eyes.
Inside - hunger. Cold. Emptiness. I reached for them like for levers. Not all the way, not letting go, but… directing them.
Under my palm, the deer shuddered. I felt the warmth leave its body… not out into the air, but into me, inside. As if a thin invisible tube had opened between us, carrying not blood, but life itself.
It stopped thrashing. Its heart - one more beat. Another. And… silence.
I pulled my hand back.
The snow around us wasn't covered in frost. No theatrical ice. But the deer's body had become… different. Heavier. Empty. As if something important had been taken out of it, leaving only the shell.
The hunger… receded.
Didn't disappear - no. But it grew quieter. Deeper. Like when you drink a glass of water while dying of thirst: it's not enough, but for a couple of minutes it's easier.
I slowly sat down beside it.
"I… didn't eat," - I said aloud, as if justifying myself to someone. - "I just… took the warmth."
*Life,* - the voice corrected. - *A part of it. Crumbs. If you had taken it all, you'd be much more sated.*
"This is enough," - I cut him off. - "If I can… do it like this…" - I looked at my palm, - "then I don't have to… tear things apart."
*As long as you're in control,* - he agreed. - *As long as you only touch animals. As long as you're not starving for real.*
I ran my fingers through the fur. It was colder than it should have been on a freshly dead animal. As if I had frozen it from the inside.
"So these are my… mystical abilities?" - I asked. - "To take warmth? Life?"
*That's a small part,* - the voice replied. - *You are a crack. Through you, you can pull not only warmth. You can… open.*
The word sounded in such a way that a chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with winter.
"Open… what?" - I asked carefully.
*The place I came from.* - he said simply.
I froze.
"No," - I breathed. - "Don't even think about it."
*I don't think,* - he chuckled. - *I am hunger. I am desire. I am emptiness. Thinking is your job. I only show you the doors.*
"And you want me to open them?" - I stood up, brushing snow from my knees. - "So this world will crack like the air above that footprint?"
*I want you to survive,* - he said calmly. - *And it will be easier to survive if you accept everything you can do. Including… the form.*
I felt something twitch inside. Not my stomach, not my heart. Deeper. As if something under my skin had stirred.
"What form?" - I asked, though I already knew the answer.
*The one you saw me in the first time,* - the whisper grew almost affectionate. - *Horns. Claws. Bones. The one in which you're not pretending to be human.*
I exhaled sharply.
"No."
*You're not human anymore,* - he reminded me. - *You're just clinging to an old shell. But underneath it - is me. The real you.*
"I am me," - I said flatly. - "And you're a parasite that decided it can tell me what I'm supposed to look like."
He laughed. This time loudly, hoarsely, so that the sound echoed in my temples.
*A parasite that gave you the strength not to freeze in this forest. A parasite that just helped you not lose your mind from hunger without ripping the deer to pieces. A parasite thanks to which you can still argue at all.*
"I'm not denying you're part of me," - I said. - "But that doesn't mean I'm obligated to become… that."
*That what?* - he asked almost gently. - *Say it out loud.*
I clenched my fists.
"A wendigo." - I forced out.
The word hung in the air like a black mark.
Something inside answered.
It was as if until that moment I had been standing at the edge of the ice, and now I had taken a step forward. The ice didn't crack, no. It… responded. Under my feet - a dull, vibrating sound that hadn't been there before. In the air - a faint smell of burning, though there was only snow and pine around.
*Say it again.* - the voice asked.
"Wendigo." - I repeated, already feeling I was doing something stupid, but unable to stop.
The response was stronger this time. My spine ached, like after sitting too long in one position. The joints of my fingers cracked on their own. My teeth… hurt. Not a dull ache, but a sharp one, like when new teeth are breaking through.
I grabbed my jaw.
"Stop," - I hissed. - "What are you doing?"
*I'm doing nothing,* - he replied. - *You are calling. You're saying your name. Your real one. And the body is responding.*
I felt the skin on my arms grow… tight. As if something underneath was trying to unfold, to grow. My bones itched. My muscles trembled, not from cold - from restrained movement.
For a second, my vision swam. I saw not my hands - long, shriveled, with black claws instead of nails. Not my legs - thin, bone-like, with joints wrapped in tight skin. The snow beneath them melted, not from warmth, but from cold.
I blinked - the image vanished. My usual hands were back. My usual legs. But the itch under my skin remained.
*You can,* - the whisper was almost tender now. - *You're already halfway there. All you have to do is… let go.*
"And what happens if I let go?" - I asked. - "Stop thinking? Stop saying 'no'?"
*You'll stop lying to yourself,* - he answered calmly. - *You'll stop playing at being a human you stopped being long ago. You'll become what you are. Fully. Without compromise.*
I looked at the dead deer.
At the snow.
At my hands.
Inhale.
Exhale.
"And then?" - I asked. - "Then I go back? I'll be able to… look normal again? Talk? Think?"
Silence.
*If you want to.* - he said at last. Too uncertainly.
"So it's not guaranteed," - I summed up. - "Wonderful offer. Thanks, but no."
I took a step back. Another. Each step was heavy, as if something was holding me by the skin from the inside, not letting me go. My body wanted… to unfold. To burst out. To become what had flashed in my vision.
*You won't be able to hide in this shell forever anyway,* - the voice grew harsher. - *Sooner or later there will come a moment when the human form will get in the way. When you'll be weaker, slower, more vulnerable because of it. And then - you'll ask me for help yourself.*
"Maybe," - I said. - "But that will be *my* choice. In *my* moment. Not because you whispered a couple of scary words in my ear."
I climbed out of the ravine. The ascent felt easier than it should have. I didn't look back.
The hunger went quiet. Not from satisfaction - from tension. Like a beast that had crouched before a leap but had been stopped.
The itch under my skin didn't go away. Sometimes - especially when I grabbed a branch or squeezed a rock - my bones answered with a dull ache. As if somewhere, deep inside, another form was waiting for its time.
*You already know what you can do,* - the voice said. - *Compress the cold. Take life. Scare off predators just by being there. Change your body. That's your nature. Denying it is like cutting off your own arm and hoping it won't grow back.*
"I'm not denying it," - I said quietly. - "I'm… limiting it."
*That won't last long.* - he said confidently.
"Maybe," - I agreed. - "But every day I stay myself and don't turn into what you want - that's already a victory."
I walked on. The forest thinned. Somewhere ahead, beyond the trees, a silhouette began to emerge - not natural, not random. Clear lines. Stone. Walls.
My heart beat harder.
Nevermore.
The image in my head shuddered. The picture I had first seen in the crack matched what was beginning to rise on the horizon. Towers. Gates. Black vines.
*Here's your pack,* - the voice chuckled. - *Let's see how long you can pretend to be human among those who can feel monsters.*
I inhaled.
The hunger - lay low.
The cold - grew sharper.
The itch under my skin - intensified, as if pushing: "Show yourself. The real you. Don't lie to them."
"No," - I said - to myself, to the hunger, to the voice, to that shadow under my skin. - "First - me. Then - everything else."
I took another step forward.
And the world that contained an academy for "outcasts" for the first time felt the approach of someone who might become not just a student.
But a problem.