The hellish flames erupted from Ethan's body in a violent surge, melting the chains that bound him and engulfing Jaxson and Carter in an instant. Their screams tore through the night, sharp and guttural, before their bodies crumbled to ash, scattered by the wind. Ryan, Frank, and Oscar, standing at the edge of the stone circle, froze as terror gripped them, their bodies seared by the heat. Ryan's right arm blazed with pain, the flames licking his skin before he could pull back. His chants faltered, his instincts screaming 'run or die'. Without a second thought, he bolted into the fog-laden forest, Frank and Oscar stumbling after him in different directions, not sparing a glance at their fallen friends. The ritual was meant to bind power, not unleash this—this was a nightmare.
As they fled, the inferno dimmed, subdued by a sudden downpour that extinguished the last flickers of fire and spared the forest from total destruction. In the center of the stone circle, Ethan lay unconscious, his body wracked with convulsions. His bones twisted and churned, as if an invisible force were reshaping him. When the transformation ceased, he lay still, his form subtly but unmistakably altered.
Before, Ethan had been unremarkable—5'10", scrawny, with a lanky frame, dark hair that hung messily over tired brown eyes, and a slouch that begged to be ignored. Now, his body was sculpted, muscles lean and defined beneath skin that glowed with an unnatural warmth. His jawline had sharpened, his shoulders broadened, and even his hair seemed thicker, wilder. The change was primal, a hint of something untamed lurking beneath the surface.
He stirred awake, confusion clouding his mind as the stench of charred earth and blood hit him. His eyes snapped open, and panic surged—he was still in the stone circle at Sehome Hill Arboretum, the ancient runes now dark and inert. Worse, he was naked, his clothes incinerated by the flames, leaving him vulnerable to the biting rain and wind. Shivering, he stumbled to his feet, arms wrapped around himself, and bolted from the scene. The forest loomed dark and oppressive, but he didn't care—he needed to escape, to reach the safety of home.
His bare feet sank into mud and snapped twigs as he ran, the pain muted by adrenaline. The world felt sharper—leaves rustled louder, distant car horns on Lakeway Drive pierced the silence, and his vision cut through the gloom with uncanny clarity. His legs moved faster than ever before, as if his body had shed its old limits. 'What did they do to me?' The question gnawed at him, but his memory was a void. He recalled the sphere of blood slamming into his chest, the searing heat, the agony—then nothing.
He emerged from the woods onto Eldridge Avenue, his faded blue two-story house coming into view. The overgrown garden and chipped paint were familiar, but the front door hung crooked, hinges splintered from Oscar's kick. His heart sank. Inside, the house was cold and silent. Ethan trudged to his room, pulling on gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, the fabric coarse against his still-sensitive skin. Fetching a toolbox and some scrap planks from the garage, he patched the door together, the makeshift repair shaky but functional.
He locked it, though it offered little comfort—Oscar had shattered it effortlessly, moving at a speed no human could match. 'What are they?' He collapsed into his desk chair, the glow of his dual monitors casting shadows across his face. Desperate for answers, he opened his laptop and typed into Google: "Bellingham supernatural events." The same article surfaced—*Unexplained Disappearances* he saw that the publisher had lost credibility for "fabricating stories for views." Ethan's stomach twisted. He knew what he'd witnessed; the truth was real, and someone was burying it.
'Why did Ryan spare me? The ritual should've killed me—or worse. Instead, it changed me. Was that his plan? What did he mean by making history?' Exhaustion weighed on him, and he rubbed his temples. Worrying wouldn't help—he needed rest, even if the thought of facing Ryan at school tomorrow made his skin crawl.
---
Meanwhile, Ryan reached his empty house on the outskirts of Bellingham, his parents predictably absent. He paced the living room, clutching his burned arm, hands trembling. "What the hell was that?" he muttered, voice cracking. "That wasn't supposed to happen. How did he kill them? That fire—what is he?" The questions piled up, unanswered. "I can't tell her. If she finds out I screwed this up, I'm dead. I need to figure this out alone." He stormed to his room, yanking old, leather-bound books on vampire lore from a shelf, searching for any hint of Hellfire or botched rituals.
---
Morning arrived too quickly. Ethan jolted awake, sunlight streaming through his blinds. He felt… different. Stronger, more alert, his senses buzzing with energy. Splashing water on his face, he stared at his reflection—his eyes glinted with an unnatural sheen, flecks of orange smoldering in the brown, and his muscles flexed with newfound power. He wasn't keen on going to school, terrified of facing Ryan or his group today, but he had to. If he skipped, the school would call his mother, and he'd get an earful about how important education was. He couldn't bear to disappoint her.
He dressed in dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and his usual hoodie, hoping to blend in. Grabbing his bag and keys, he hopped on his Yamaha V-Star and sped to Bellingham High, the wind sharp but exhilarating. At the entrance, Jamie waited, his sandy hair a mess, blue eyes widening as he took in Ethan's altered appearance.
"Damn, Ethan, what happened to you? You look… jacked," Jamie said, a mix of awe and concern in his tone.
Ethan forced a grin. "Long story. How about we hang at my place after school?"
Jamie squinted but nodded. "Fine, keep your secrets. I'll drag 'em out of you later."
They started toward the school, Jamie rambling about a new game. "By the way, I hope we don't run into Ryan's squad. I'm sick of their pranks. We should stand up to them for once."
Ethan didn't answer, his stomach knotting at the mention of Ryan. He was still worried about running into him or his group, their red eyes and unnatural speed haunting his thoughts.
As classes started, there was still no sign of Ryan, Frank, or Oscar, which temporarily put Ethan at ease. At least he wouldn't have to deal with them this morning. His schedule included History and Spanish before the break, followed by Computer Science and Trigonometry. History class passed quickly, almost too fast for his liking. As he entered the classroom, he spotted Jamie and made a beeline to sit next to him.
"What's up, dude? How was your first class?" Ethan asked, settling into his seat.
"It was boring, and I was sleepy. Stayed up way too late playing that new game," Jamie replied with a sheepish grin. "What about you?"
"Same, just trying to stay awake," Ethan said, forcing a chuckle.
They continued chatting as the lesson was about to start. Ethan felt a prickle on the back of his neck, like someone was watching him. It was unsettling. He glanced around the room and locked eyes with Mia Carter. She stood at 5'6", with striking hazel eyes that seemed to pierce through him, her chestnut hair tied back in a loose braid that framed her sharp, confident features. There was a quiet strength in her posture, like she could handle anything thrown her way. Ethan's heart skipped—he'd known her for years at school, always admiring her from afar. She was beautiful, and he'd harbored a crush on her, but his weakness and constant bullying had kept him too shy to approach her. Nervously, he waved, and she responded with a slight nod, her expression unreadable.
He turned back as Ms. Thompson, the Spanish teacher, strode into the room, her glasses perched on her nose. "Alright, everyone, settle down," she said, clapping her hands. "Today, we're working on conversational skills. Pair up and create a short dialogue in Spanish about planning a trip to a Spanish-speaking country. Make it lively, and use the vocabulary from last week."
Ethan and Jamie paired up, grabbing a worksheet with prompts. "Okay, so we're planning a trip to Mexico," Jamie said, scribbling a line. "I'm gonna say I want tacos every day. Quiero comer tacos todos los días."
Ethan laughed,. "Yeah, and I'll say we need a beach. Necesitamos una playa." Across the room, another student, Sarah, groaned loudly. "Ms. Thompson, why do we have to do this? It's so pointless!"
"It's not pointless, Sarah," Ms. Thompson replied with a smirk. "You'll thank me when you're ordering food in Cancún. Try adding some adjectives to your dialogue—make it pop."
The class buzzed with chatter as pairs practiced their dialogues. Ethan tried to focus, but his heightened senses made every sound sharper—the scratch of pencils, Sarah's muttering, Jamie's occasional yawn. It was overwhelming, a reminder of how much he'd changed.
When the bell rang, he and Jamie headed to the cafeteria, grabbing trays and piling on questionable-looking tacos. They found a table near the window and dug in, the hum of student chatter filling the air.
"So, you gonna tell me what's up with the new muscles?" Jamie asked between bites. "You secretly hitting the gym or what?"
Ethan shrugged, chewing slowly. "Just… growing, I guess."
"Growing, my ass. You look like you could bench press me," Jamie teased, then leaned in. "Seriously, though, your not your usual. Something happen?"
Before Ethan could answer, a shadow fell over their table. He looked up, heart lurching, expecting Ryan or Frank. Instead, it was Mia, her hazel eyes locked on him, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Hey, Ethan. Jamie. How's it going?"
Ethan froze, his pulse racing. Her voice was calm, but there was something knowing in her gaze, like she saw more than she let on. He swallowed hard, unsure why she was here—or what she wanted.