Chapter 1: The Market

It started as a boring Saturday. One of those days that drags its feet and stretches out like old gum. Jack slouched in the front seat of his mom’s minivan, arms crossed, hood up, earbuds in. The summer sun glared through the windshield, and he squinted against it, watching the parking lot after parking lot roll by as they drove through the edges of town. The world outside blurred past, but his mind was far away lost in a familiar dream where he wasn't confined by skin and bone. In that world, he ran on all fours through pine forests, the wind teasing phantom ears atop his head and a tail flicking behind him. He couldn’t help the way his fingers twitched, longing for paws instead. Jack was a therian. He never told anyone. Not his parents, not his teachers, not even the guys. The wolf was just a part of him always had been. When he was little, he thought everyone felt phantom tails or dreamed in fur. Now, he knew better. So he kept it locked up. Better to be weird quietly than risk being called crazy. “Do I have to go in?” he asked, not for the first time.

“Jack,” his mom said, calm but firm. “You and your friends spend too much time in front of screens. A little daylight won’t kill you.” In the back seat, Kole leaned forward between the front seats, grinning. “Speak for yourself. Sunlight literally gives Jack a debuff.” Kole was the wild one, the athletic outdoors type. He could not sit still if his life depended on it. Camping, hiking, diving off cliffs into rivers that was Kole’s idea of having a good time. He wore a tattered flannel, and he looked way too excited to be heading to the flea market their parents had insisted on visiting. Brandon chuckled, quiet but present, as he scrolled through his phone. “You guys act like we’re being dragged to a cave full of trolls. It’s a flea market.” Brandon in a nutshell is calm, steady, responsible. He volunteered at the fire station and already had plans to get certified as an EMT Paramedic. Jack gave a dramatic sigh. “A weird flea market. In the middle of nowhere. That smells like feet.” Kole nudged him from the back. “C’mon, man. It’s your mom’s weekend off. Let her enjoy herself.” “She brought us to babysit you two,” Jack muttered. “Uh-huh,” Kole said, unbothered. “And when you find that vintage game console buried under a stack of broken lamps, who’ll be thanking her then?” Jack’s mom, smiling at the banter, pulled into the dirt lot beside the flea market. The rows of tents and booths looked like they’d been standing for decades with faded canvas flapping lazily in the breeze, wooden signs hand-painted with things like Mystic Crystals and One Man’s Junk. The scent of fried food and motor oil drifted through the air. “Two hours,” she said, pulling the van into park. “Stay where it’s busy, don’t touch anything leaking, and if someone offers you a ‘soul-stone,’ you say no.” Jack groaned, but Kole was already jumping out of the car. Brandon followed, adjusting the strap on his backpack of course, it had a first-aid patch stitched on the front. Jack stepped out last, shielding his eyes from the sun. The three of them had been friends since middle school. Kole was the loud one, always pushing them into weird places and spontaneous adventures. Brandon was the quiet backbone of the group, the guy who’d stop you from doing something dumb but still help you if you did it anyway. And Jack… Jack was the gamer, the night owl, the one who felt more comfortable in forests or in his own head than crowds of people. He’d never told anyone expect his friends about the phantom tail or the ears he felt when he was alone. He never needed to. They accepted him, quirks and all. They wandered past booths selling antique tools, secondhand clothes, stacks of dusty books, and old action figures with missing limbs. Jack paused at a table with a stack of retro game cartridges. “Hey, they’ve got Night Fang 2. That thing goes for, like, sixty bucks online.” Kole raised a brow. “Is that the one with the werewolf dating sim built in?” “Side quest,” Jack said. “It’s optional.” “Uh-huh.” While Jack inspected the game, Brandon wandered over to a rack of vintage fire helmets and radios. The vendor started chatting with him about the local volunteer station. “Think he’s about to get recruited,” Kole said, watching with amusement. “Ten bucks says he’s washing trucks by next weekend.” Jack gave a small smile and tucked the game back on the table. “He probably already is.” They wandered deeper into the maze of tents and booths. The crowd thinned a little. Fewer signs, more tarps. Most people seemed to skip this part. Kole stopped suddenly. “You guys see that?” Between two leaning tents was a narrow passage half-covered by a curtain of beads and tattered fabric. Faint glints of metal caught the light inside. Jack tilted his head. “That wasn’t on the map.” “There’s a map?” Kole asked. Jack held up his phone. “Someone made a digital layout. Nerds organize everything.” Brandon walked back over, curious. “What’s in there?” Kole shrugged, already stepping toward it. “Only one way to find out.” Jack hesitated, the hair on his arms prickling slightly. He didn’t feel scared just… pulled. Like something in there was watching. Waiting. His mom’s voice echoed faintly from somewhere nearby, chatting with a vendor about homemade candles. He glanced at Brandon and Kole. They were already ducking inside. Jack followed. He couldn’t explain it, not yet, but something about that booth would change everything. The inside of the hidden tent was cooler than outside quiet, like the air held its breath. Dust motes drifted through thin beams of sunlight that pierced holes in the canvas. The walls were lined with wooden shelves cluttered with strange, mismatched objects: faded tarot decks, chipped glass bottles, rusted animal skulls, bundles of herbs strung up to dry. At the center was a low table draped in black cloth. Upon it sat a simple wooden tray with three pendants each resting on a short chain. One was a silver wolf’s head, one a golden coyote, and the last a dark, almost obsidian-black jackal. “Yo,” Kole muttered, stepping closer. “These are kind of sick.” Jack hovered just behind him, eyes fixed on the wolf pendant. It looked old, worn, but familiar somehow. His fingers itched. He reached out without thinking. The cool metal hit his skin like ice and for a second, he felt it. Not physically, but in that weird therian way. Ears. Flicking. Alert. A tail, twitching. The phantom sensations hit like a wave. “Really?” Kole snorted. “You pick the wolf? Way to stay on-brand, Therian Boy.” Jack gave him a sideways look. “Shut up.” “You’re not denying it,” Kole teased. “I never did,” Jack said under his breath.

Brandon ignored the banter, drawn instead to the jackel pendant. He picked it up carefully, frowning at the surprising weight of it. “Feels… grounded.” Kole lifted the coyote pendant, spinning it between his fingers. “This one’s got some edge. I like it.” A quiet voice cut through the still air. “Bound by instinct. Bound by moon. Bound by choice.”

They all turned. An old woman stood behind the table now, though none of them had seen her come in. Her voice wasn’t directed at the boys. It was distant, like she was narrating to someone else someone just beyond the veil. Then her gaze focused on them, pale and unreadable. “Each finds its own wearer,” she added softly. Jack cleared his throat. “How much?”  “Five dollars each,” she replied, smiling faintly. Kole blinked. “Seriously? No warning about ancient curses or blood pacts?” “No refunds either,” she added, slipping the cash into a carved wooden box. Brandon hesitated,  but paid. Outside, the sunlight seemed harsher after the cool quiet of the tent. The noise of the crowd returned like someone turning up the volume too fast. They walked in comfortable silence at first, each inspecting their new necklace. Without saying anything, Jack and Kole slipped them over their heads. Jack’s sat heavy against his chest. The wolf’s eyes seemed to catch the light. “Are you guys actually wearing them?” Brandon asked, raising a brow. Jack nodded, adjusting it. “Might be lucky. Or something.” “You just want to impress any lone she-wolves wandering the kettle corn aisle.” Kole chuckled. “Don’t encourage him.” Barndon said They wandered for another half hour, browsing booths, goofing off. Jack lingered at a stand selling old horror movie posters. Brandon picked up the first edition of the fireman’s handbook. Kole tested out a slingshot from a survivalist tent, nearly taking out a vendor’s stack of tin mugs. They laughed. They bickered. It was just how it always had been. Then Jack felt it again. His wolf ears they twitched. He felt them twitch. And his wolf tail hanging low and swaying, reacting to his mood. It wasn’t physical. Not yet. But it was stronger than it had ever been. Sharper. Louder. “Jack!” his mom’s voice called from down the aisle. “Time to head out!” They waved her over and started walking back. Kole carried a bag full of survival junk, and Brandon handed Jack a soda he’d bought without asking. They piled into the van, all still wearing their pendants. Jack leaned back in his seat, sipping his drink. His phantom tail flicked again right at the base of his spine. He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Weird.” The boys went their separate ways, homes scattered across the edge of town. Kole threw his bag in the corner of his room, kicked off his boots, and collapsed on top of his blankets. His jackal pendant glinted in the moonlight sneaking past the blinds. His breathing slowed; his body still wired with leftover energy from the day. Brandon showered, folded his volunteer Fire and Ems uniform with practiced care, and double-checked that his alarm was set for the morning. The obsidian jackal pendant lay on his nightstand, catching a glint of moonlight. He stared at it for a long moment, his thumb brushing the carved snout. Then, almost without thinking, he slipped the chain over his head and let it rest against his chest. It felt heavier than he expected but not in a bad way. Just... solid. Grounding. He left it there as he climbed into bed, the cool metal warming slowly against his skin. Jack was the last to sleep. He sat cross-legged on his bed, headset on, gaming with the lights off. His wolf pendant dangled against his chest, warm now. Too warm. He reached to tug at it, but his fingers froze halfway. His phantom tail was curled against his leg. His phantom ears twitched toward a sound outside. His skin itched. His teeth ached. And somewhere, under the noise of the game, he thought he heard… panting. A low growl. A distant howl. He blinked. The screen blurred. Sleep took him before he realized he was slipping.