LEGACY OF THE FIRST WOLF

SORAYA CAELUM Caelmont stood amongst the mountains that rose like a tooth around the city, leaving behind shadows with jagged crowns. I took a deep, shaky breath, not quite believing what I was seeing, but even that could not stop the racing beat of my heart. I have been standing at the terminal platform for so long, I must look like a creep from those hunted stories but I still haven’t been able to calm my heart, neither have I been able to wrap my head around the fact that I was actually in Caelmont. A city of mysteries, stories and absolute beauty and listed as one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The peak of the skyline cuts sharp and silver against the misty peaks behind it. Rolls of glass towers and skyscrapers rising from the valley like a challenge to the mountains that cradle it. I have heard a million things about Caelmont, seen pictures and anticipated seeing the misty mountains that stood like a shadow over the grand mysterious city, but nothing prepared me for the magnificence of it. It knocked me out of breath and left me giddy. Bringing out my phone, I took pictures as much as I could. I might be there for a short period, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have fun or keep sake. A gust of wind swept down the mountains, colder than I expected, sharp enough to sting. I drew the strap of my leather bag closer to me and tightened my grip on my small luggage box. The worn-out page I had been studying all this while on the train ruffled in my hand, reminding me, grounding me, to the reason I was there. The trail of myth that I couldn’t pass up drawing me deeper into Caelmont like a river drawn downhill and something in my bone told me I was close. I’ve been tracing the evolution of werewolf across the countries since before I got my undergraduate degree. I’ve discovered weird stories to not just be stories, but facts twisted into myths, folklores. And since I could remember, the legend of werewolves had always been an intrigue. Yes, I did other stories, Norse gods, Celtic gods, vampires, witches, but the myths about werewolves had always had a certain zing passing through my spine anytime I thought about it. And the moment I was told of my thesis, I knew this was the topic I would be choosing to work on. It was my way of continuing my research since I already had evidence, trails, proofs in rare texts, censored entries and erased maps I had discovered myself. One of those erased maps had brought Caelmont into the picture. The city had been mysterious enough the way it was, but now, all I smelt was jackpot. My excitement had me smiling foolishly as I looked right at the city that remained quiet, watching, calm. A ruse. I could smell the energy in the air. The hum amidst the fog around the mountains that encompass the city, almost like the land was living and breathing. With, a pulse that’s connected to every life and living being. Even I could feel the way the beat of my heart echoed back to it. And I was going to proof that werewolf once existed amongst us. Taking another deep breath, I pulled my luggage box behind me and made my way into the city. As I did, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message to my father, letting him know I arrived safely. He was definitely a worrier and I could imagine how many repeated cautionary advice he would give if I called him up. He did that every time I went on a field research like I was heading into enemy territory. Like a mummy will rise from her grave and suck my life if I went too close. Once that was done, I waved down a cab. “You new to town?” The driver asked, stealing a glance at me from the rearview mirror. “Yes.” I answered, keeping the discomfort out of my voice. It was never wise to give away that I was a single lady in a strange city. The town had a lot of mysteries, as it was like. Like why the mayor barely let strangers or tourists into the city except during a particular time of the year when it was one of their greatest resource. It would be terrible to add my death as another mystery. No one would investigate. “It’s that time of the year, we have a lot of tourists coming into town from all over,” he continued with his driving, allowing me to watch him some more till I was settled enough to believe he was simply curious. The streets were wide and clean, paved in dark stone that shines wet after the near daily rain. Electric trams hum past sleek cafes and the digital billboards flicker above the stores that sell designer coats next to antique bookstores. The streets were packed with tourists, making me understand what the driver had said earlier about that time of the year, but there was still some sort of quiet order around the city. It was efficient, elegant and strangely watchful. Aside the tourists, the locals walked like the city itself was watching and everyone had a task. I brought out my phone, taking pictures as the city gleamed and glowed. The cab came to a stop in front of a hotel and with the help of the driver, I got my stuffs out of the car and dragged them into the reception. It was a cozy-looking place from the outside. But inside was sleek and clean and massive. It was luxury in a cozy manner and I couldn’t wait to get to my room. The day’s event was catching up with me. I made my way to the reception that had a man already watching me with eyes that I thought were sharper than normal. “Good evening.” I cleared my throat and dropped my bags with a relief sigh. “I will like a room, please.” I continued and watched the sad smile that came across his face. No, no, no. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we are fully booked right now.” He answered. And my world tilted. Literally. I was tired and my stomach wouldn’t stop rumbling. I wanted a bathe, a place to relax, clear my head, ease my heart, for at least a few hours. “It’s that time of the year, tourists tend to call ahead or they might end up trapped with nowhere to stay.” He explained, giving me an even sorrier smile. I knew the city never really opened its doors every day to tourists. It’s a place that has grown quietly and made the entire world intrigued. Tourists, travelers and reporters were only allowed in a number at this particular month every year. I knew that. The city was f*****g beautiful to be locked up behind regulations, leaving their doors open would bring more revenue, but this was the only time people had access. Once it was over, no one could come in and leave as easily, which turned the city into a mystery that everyone wanted to solve, including me. I knew about all this yet, I had underestimated how much people wanted to see. What had I been thinking? “Thank you, I will try my luck with other places and see.” I offered a small smile and walked away. Five hotels, two motels and two hours later, I was standing outside, frustration stringing my heart and panic beginning to bloom. It was getting dark. The city was alight with lights and people and buzz, yet it felt colder and an energy around the city buzzed against my skin like drumbeats. I was tired, alone, hungry, and fed up. I had nowhere to sleep and the thought of that made dread curl at the dept of my being. I didn’t bother stopping a cab anymore. That was even harder to get, so I dragged my bag, mindlessly roaming about till I arrived at a diner with pink overhead light that said ‘Ellen’s place’ and an emptier space than the jam-packed places I had seen. But before I walked through the door, I saw the owner pulling up the closed sign. I panicked and ran towards her. Without thinking, I banged my fist against the door, pulling her attention to me with a panic startle. “Please, just one meal.” I begged. She watched me for a moment. She couldn’t be much older than me, with light brown eyes and brown hair to match. She was beautiful in jeans and crop top. Definitely a local. “We are closed,” she pointed at the closed sign and I shook my head. “Please, the other diners are full and don’t get me started on the restuarants, I have been roaming around for two hours with no place to eat or sleep. Just thirty minutes.” She watched me even more, clearly wary about me. And the longer she took, the more desperate I became. I let out a tiny whine and she let the door open. My heart jumped as she urged me inside with a tilt of her head and I couldn’t be more grateful as I hauled my things inside without delay. “Are you just coming into the city?” She locked the door behind me and I sat down. “No, been here for two hours.” I answered, grateful for the warmth of the place. She eyed my bag and I let out another sigh. “I didn’t realize that the tourists were no joke and made the mistake of coming without booking a hotel before-hand. Now I am stuck with nowhere to go.” I stared at my luggage, panic beginning to rise in my chest again. But I broke it off and focused instead on my stomach. One thing at a time and that was more pressing. “What will you like?” She asked. “Anything please, I don’t care. I just need food before I die.” I laid back in my chair and she chuckled. Light, free and less wary. In a few minutes, she was back with an iced tea and a turkey sandwich. I lounged into the food like a madwoman. I was sure I didn’t want to see myself at that moment, while the lady watched me with curious eyes and a smile tilted at the side of her lips. Only when I had gone halfway into my meal did I relax and slowed down. “You must be really hungry.” She stated. “I have never been this hungry in my life.” I answered, sipping my tea. “Thank you for opening for me.” I finally had the decency to say. “It’s okay. You looked like you might cry if I didn’t.” “I think I was on the verge of it.” I chuckled, and she did too. But the sound died in my throat when fire licked my skin in an immediate and intense wave. I gasped. The pit of my stomach clenched, threatening to ball me over. I spun around in search of the owner of that gaze. And met nothing. Something acidic burned the back of my throat and goosebumps coated my skin. Someone was watching me. And something told me it was my stalker.