The salt air clung to my skin like a whisper I couldn’t escape. I was halfway down the narrow wooden trail that connected the cliffside to the hidden cove when my sandal slipped on the slick planks.

“Ahh!” I gasped, flailing as the world tilted sideways.

The crashing roar of waves below surged into my ears, and for one breathless second, I was sure I was going to fall. My heart jolted, camera swinging wildly against my chest—until a strong hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me back against a solid chest.

The shock of it knocked the air from me.

“Careful,” a low voice murmured, rough as gravel but somehow steadying.

Kael.

The same man from yesterday—the stranger with the unreadable eyes and that unnerving way of looking at me, as if he already knew me. His grip was firm, almost too firm, and heat shot up my arm where his hand held me.

I blinked up at him, breath uneven. “You—again?”

His jaw tightened. For a moment he didn’t answer, just stared down at me like he was searching for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to find. Then, finally—

“You should watch your step. This path isn’t forgiving.” His words were clipped, but there was something else beneath them—something like… worry?

I tugged my wrist free, even though a strange part of me didn’t want to. “I was doing fine until you appeared out of nowhere.”

He gave a soft, humorless scoff. “You call nearly falling into the ocean fine?”

The tension between us pressed as heavy as the humid air. I crossed my arms, defensive. “Why are you even here? Following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes—God, those eyes—flicked briefly to the camera strapped to me, then back to my face. “You don’t belong wandering alone in places you don’t understand.”

Something about the way he said it made my skin prickle. Not just because it sounded protective, but because it carried an edge—like a warning.

I swallowed, trying to steady myself. “I’m not some lost tourist. I’m working.”

His gaze lingered, unreadable. “And what exactly are you working on?”

“Well, in case you dyknow yet, I’m a travel vlogger,” I said quickly, almost defensively, lifting my camera slightly. “Exploring, filming, sharing stories. That’s what I do.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change, but I swore his jaw tightened. “Stories have a way of pulling you deeper than you intend,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “Sometimes too deep.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us, filled only by the crash of waves below.

Why did his words feel like more than just advice?

I shook my head, forcing a laugh that came out thinner than I intended. “You’re really dramatic, you know that? I almost fell, sure, but it’s not like I was about to drown.”

“Do you really think the sea here lets go that easily?” His eyes darkened, and for the briefest second, something flickered in them—a shadow, a secret.

My chest tightened. Déjà vu swept over me again, strong and suffocating. It was the same feeling I had yesterday when I first saw him: that strange, inexplicable sense of familiarity, like I’d known him in another life. Like this exact moment had already happened.

“Do I…” My voice faltered. I swallowed. “Do I know you?”

That broke through his mask. For a fraction of a second, his features softened, almost pained. Then, just as quickly, he turned away, staring out at the sea.

“No,” he said, clipped. “You don’t.”

But the hesitation in his tone told a different story.

I studied him, the lines of his face shadowed by the late afternoon sun. The wind tugged at his shirt, his hair, but he stood unmoving, like part of the landscape itself.

“Then why…” I whispered, more to myself than him. “…why does it feel like I do?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped past me, heading further down the path toward the cove.

“Wait!” I hurried after him, my sandals slipping slightly again. “You can’t just—”

“Do what you came to do,” he cut in without looking back. “But stay away from the cliff’s edge. And… stay away from the water at night.”

I froze. “Why?”

He finally glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking with mine. For a moment, I thought I saw fire there—or maybe it was just the reflection of the sun bleeding into the horizon.

“Because not everything in Bacnotania sleeps when the sun goes down.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

Before I could ask more, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the path ahead, leaving me standing there with my camera, my pounding heart, and a million questions.

That night, I replayed the moment in my head on a loop. His words. His stare. The way my body still buzzed where he’d grabbed me.

I was supposed to be editing my footage, but every time I pressed play, all I could hear was his voice. Stay away from the water at night.

But why?

I paced my villa balcony, restless, the moonlight spilling silver across the waves below.

And then—

A sound.

Faint, almost drowned out by the surf. A whispering hum, melodic yet strange. Like a lullaby carried on the wind.

I grabbed my camera instinctively and hit record, pointing it out toward the sea.

The sound grew clearer—rising, falling, haunting. Not like any song I’d ever heard, yet so achingly familiar my chest hurt.

I leaned over the railing, heart hammering. The waves shimmered under the moonlight, almost glowing. And there—just for an instant—I thought I saw something move beneath the surface. A figure.

The humming stopped.

The sea went still.

And then—

A voice. Right behind me.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come near the water at night?”

I spun, camera jerking in my hands. Kael stood there, shadows clinging to him, eyes burning like they held the secrets of the ocean itself.

The silence after Kael left was deafening. His touch lingered like static on my arm, my pulse refusing to settle even as the night swallowed his silhouette. The cliff edge, the crashing waves, and his voice—low, edged with warning yet undeniably magnetic—echoed in my chest.

For minutes I just stood there, camera still hanging limp at my side, heart refusing to return to its rhythm.

When I finally stumbled back toward my villa, the whole resort seemed different. The shadows were heavier, the cicadas sharper, the wind saltier. Or maybe it was just me—disoriented, haunted, replaying every second of Kael’s piercing gaze.

Inside my room, the air-conditioning buzzed softly, almost taunting with its ordinary calm. I placed the camera on my desk and sank into the chair. My hands trembled as I scrolled through the clips from earlier—my “work,” the reason I was here.

Sunlit shots of the beach. Playful monologues about food. The shallow charm of a travel vlogger.

But then the footage shifted—unedited snippets of the cliff. And faintly, beneath the wind and waves, something else. A whisper. A hum. Like a voice not meant to be heard.

I leaned closer, turning the volume higher.

“…Run…”

The word was so faint I almost thought my mind was fabricating it.

I hit pause. My reflection stared back at me from the dark laptop screen, eyes wide, lips parted.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “That’s just noise. Interference. Wind catching in the mic.”

But it didn’t feel like noise. It felt deliberate.

By morning, I forced myself into routine. That’s what vlogging demanded: structure, smiles, the illusion of control.

I brewed coffee, set up my tripod near the balcony doors where the ocean framed a perfect backdrop, and hit record.

“Good morning, sunseekers!” My voice rang overly bright, like someone else was speaking through me. “Welcome back to CallieWanders. Today I’m sharing my first impressions of Bacnotania Island Resort—the hidden gem you never knew you needed.”

The words flowed, polished and rehearsed, but they felt detached, like I was reading from a teleprompter lodged in my skull. My mind kept drifting back to last night—the heat of Kael’s hand, the cliff, that whisper caught on tape.

Still, I filmed. The resort deserved content. My followers deserved consistency.

After hours of editing, smoothing out my stammered moments, overlaying cheerful music, and inserting stock transitions, I finally uploaded:

“First 24 Hours in Bacnotania: Paradise or Mystery?”

The thumbnail was me smiling against the sunset, hair whipping perfectly. Fake perfection.

I sat back, staring at the screen as the views began ticking upward. The familiar dopamine rush barely brushed me. Comments rolled in:

“Wow, you’re glowing!”

“Dream destination unlocked ”

“Girl, your energy is EVERYTHING.”

But it wasn’t. Not today.

A knock jolted me from my spiraling.

I opened the door and found one of the resort staff holding a tray. A tall glass of calamansi juice, condensation dripping, and a folded note beneath it.

“For you, Miss Callie,” she said softly, almost hesitantly, before disappearing down the corridor.

The note wasn’t signed. Just a line written in elegant script:

“Be careful what you capture. Not everything wants to be seen.”

My throat closed.

I looked around the hall, but it was empty, silent except for the hum of distant waves.

I closed the door and locked it, heart hammering.

That night, exhaustion pulled me into bed, though sleep felt like a threat instead of a comfort. I tossed, turned, until finally my body gave in.

The dream began subtly. The sheets dissolved into cool sand. My breaths deepened, synced with the crash of waves.

I was barefoot, standing at the shoreline beneath a vast, silver moon that painted the world in liquid light. The ocean shimmered unnaturally bright, as though alive.

A strange freedom coursed through me. My dress—white, flowing, unrecognizable—brushed my knees as I began to run. Not from fear, but from something primal, exhilarating.

Laughter escaped me, raw and unrestrained. The sand kissed my feet, the wind tangled in my hair. For once, I wasn’t a vlogger, not a girl hiding behind curated frames. I was just… me.

But then, mid-run, I felt it. A presence.

I slowed, glancing over my shoulder.

Kael.

He was there, standing where the tide kissed the shore, half his face drenched in moonlight, the other cloaked in shadow. Watching me. Always watching.

“Why are you here?” My voice trembled though it wasn’t fear—it was something deeper.

He didn’t move closer, but his eyes held me captive. “You already know.”

“I don’t—”

The ground shifted beneath my feet. The sand darkened, sticky, pulling me down like wet clay. My laughter died, replaced by frantic gasps.

“Kael!” I reached for him. “Help me—”

But he didn’t move. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched, as if something restrained him.

“Callie,” he said finally, voice breaking like waves against stone. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

The moon flared—blinding, silver fire washing the beach—and then I was falling.

I jolted awake, drenched in sweat. The clock blinked 3:03 a.m. My sheets twisted like shackles around my legs.

Heart pounding, I grabbed my camera, irrationally certain it would hold proof of what I’d just seen.

The lens cap was off.

But I knew I had replaced it yesterday.

Hands trembling, I pressed play on the last recording.

The footage showed my balcony, moonlight spilling across the tiles. And faintly, in the corner of the frame, a shadow.

Broad shoulders. A figure standing impossibly still.

Watching.

The Pull of the Moon

Callie’s POV

The dream still clung to me when I woke—like the moonlight hadn’t let go.

My sheets were twisted around my legs, skin slick with sweat, heart pounding like I’d just sprinted through the forest that haunted my sleep. The same forest. Silver light dripping through the trees. The same phantom sound—soft paws, quick breaths, and something running beside me. Always beside me.

I pressed a hand to my chest, half-expecting to feel fur instead of skin. Ridiculous. It was just another nightmare, another weird fragment from this island that had already crawled under my skin. But when I sat up, I noticed something strange. My camera—the one I left off—was blinking red.

Recording.

I froze. “No way…” I grabbed it and scrolled through the footage. The lens had been aimed at the glass wall facing the ocean. For almost an hour, it captured nothing but moonlight and waves—until the sound. A low, mournful howl. Then another, closer. The kind that vibrated straight through your bones.

My throat went dry.

The timestamp matched the exact time I was dreaming.

Nope. Not doing this. Not before breakfast.

I tried to shake it off and dragged myself to the shower, letting the hot water run over my face until my breathing slowed. “You’re okay, Cal,” I whispered to my reflection. “It’s just island fatigue. And maybe too many late-night edits.”

But the girl in the mirror didn’t look convinced. Her eyes—my eyes—seemed almost… brighter. Sharper. The gold flecks in the brown shimmered faintly like liquid metal.

I blinked. Gone.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Definitely need caffeine.”

By the time I got to the resort café, I had slipped back into my influencer mask—lip tint, sunglasses, a breezy linen dress, and the practiced smile of someone who had her life perfectly together. My camera sat on the table, ready to capture the “sunrise coffee” aesthetic moment my followers loved.

But for the first time in years, I couldn’t hit record.

Every time I looked out toward the trees beyond the beach, my chest tightened. It felt like something was calling—no, waiting.

“Miss Veyra?” The voice snapped me back.

I looked up—and froze.

Kael Draven stood there, tall and impossibly composed, dressed down this time in a white shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the strength beneath it. The sunlight slid over him like it belonged there. Like even the day bent around him.

My fingers tightened around my mug. “Do you, like, follow me, or is this island just that small?”

A smirk ghosted across his lips. “If I were following you, Callie, you wouldn’t see me.”

The way he said my name—slow, deliberate—sent a flutter through my stomach.

I forced a smile. “Creepy, but noted. Coffee?”

He nodded toward the empty chair across from me, asking without asking.

“Sure,” I said, though my brain screamed otherwise.

He sat down with the ease of someone who’d been doing this for centuries. The staff moved around him like invisible strings were pulling them—refilling his cup, bowing slightly. He didn’t even notice. Power just… radiated off him.

“You didn’t sleep,” he observed, eyes flicking to mine.

I stiffened. “You watching me now?”

“Only what you let me see.” His tone was teasing, but there was weight under it. “You’re shaken. Something happened.”

I laughed softly, a sound that didn’t reach my chest. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Do you have one?”

“Used to,” I said, taking a sip. “But she didn’t like it when I filmed my sessions.”

His lips curved. “You hide behind the camera.”

I looked up sharply. “Excuse me?”

“You think if you record life, you can control it.” He leaned back, silver eyes studying me with unnerving precision. “But you can’t control this island. Or what it’s waking in you.”

“Wow.” I set down my cup. “You always talk like a fortune cookie, or am I just lucky?”

Something flickered behind his gaze—amusement, maybe pain. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and extended a hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”

“Kael—”

“Trust me,” he said, voice dropping low. “For once, put the camera down.”

And maybe it was the way the air seemed to pulse between us, or the quiet command in his tone, but I did. Against every rational instinct I had, I slipped my hand into his.

The contact was instant heat. My pulse stumbled. The world sharpened—the wind, the crash of waves, even the distant rustle of leaves felt louder.

“What is this place doing to me?” I whispered, half to myself.

His thumb brushed my palm, and I swore sparks danced across my skin. “It’s not the island,” he said quietly. “It’s you.”

We walked past the resort grounds, down a narrow path fringed with vines and stone steps leading toward the cliffs. The air grew cooler, denser. A chorus of cicadas filled the silence.

I tried to distract myself. “So, Mr. Mysterious Billionaire brings girls to secret paths often?”

“Only one,” he said, eyes not leaving mine.

I almost tripped. “Smooth.”

He smiled faintly, like he’d been waiting for me to say that.

We reached a clearing overlooking the sea—a hidden cove framed by jagged rocks and whispering trees. The horizon shimmered, endless and blindingly blue. But it wasn’t the view that stole my breath. It was the way Kael looked standing there—like he belonged to this wildness. Like he was part of it.

“This is where the island is most alive,” he said softly. “Listen.”

I did. And for a moment, I heard it—a heartbeat, faint but steady, thrumming beneath the earth.

My chest ached. “What is that?”

“Home,” he murmured. “The island remembers.”

“Remembers what?”

His gaze lingered on me. “Who you are.”

The words hit like a jolt. I opened my mouth to argue, but the wind shifted, carrying the faintest sound—another howl, low and distant.

Kael’s head snapped up. His entire body went rigid.

I took a step back. “Was that—?”

He turned to me, voice rough. “We need to go.”

“What? Why—”

He didn’t answer, just grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the path. The warmth of his touch had changed—no longer soft, but protective. Urgent.

And as we ran, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the forest around us wasn’t just alive.

It was watching.

👑

Callie’s POV

Kael’s hand was warm against my skin, his grip firm but not painful as we hurried through the path.

“Kael, slow down! What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw was tight, eyes scanning the trees like he could hear something I couldn’t. “Something’s wrong,” he finally said. His voice was low, controlled, but there was tension threading through every word.

“Define wrong,” I panted, trying to keep up. “Because this island has been one big red flag since I landed.”

He didn’t smile this time. That scared me more than the sound itself.

The forest canopy thickened above us, sunlight breaking through in shards. Every crunch of gravel underfoot echoed too loudly. My pulse thudded in my ears. Then it came again—the howl. Closer now. Deeper. Not just an animal sound. Something intelligent.

It rippled through the air like a warning.

Kael stopped suddenly. His hand slid away from mine, and he looked toward the left, shoulders squaring. “Stay here.”

“Excuse me?” I snapped, heart hammering. “I’m not staying anywhere alone.”

His gaze cut to me, sharp and commanding, a glint of silver flickering in his eyes. “Callie. Please.”

It wasn’t a plea—it was an order disguised as one.

And for some reason, I listened.

He moved with a kind of quiet violence—every step precise, every muscle coiled like he was made for danger. I should’ve been terrified. But I wasn’t. I was… entranced. He looked like something out of those dreams—untamed, powerful, too wild for the civilized world.

I crouched behind a tree trunk, clutching my camera even though I knew better. It wasn’t recording, but the habit was instinctual—something inside me needed to document. Proof that this was real. That I wasn’t losing my mind.

Then I heard it—a low growl that wasn’t Kael’s voice. My blood ran cold.

Leaves rustled, and before I could react, something massive darted between the trees—fast, black, and heavy. The blur of movement was followed by a violent crash, a snarl, and Kael’s voice—raw, commanding.

“Back!”

The sound of struggle echoed—snapping branches, claws on stone. I couldn’t see clearly, but I caught flashes: Kael’s body moving with terrifying speed, the shadow of something lunging, teeth bared, and then silence.

My entire body trembled. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until he stepped out of the trees.

Except—he wasn’t the same.

His white shirt was torn at the collar, chest rising and falling hard, eyes still glowing faintly silver. For one wild second, I swore I saw the outline of claws retracting as he flexed his fingers.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he scanned me, gaze sharp, like he was checking for injuries. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“I didn’t!” I snapped, even though I had. “You told me to stay here, and I did! Mostly. What was that thing?”

Kael’s jaw worked. “Nothing you need to see.”

“Seriously? You drag me into the woods, freak out over a random sound, disappear into the trees like Batman, and then tell me it’s nothing?”

His eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw something flicker there—fear. Not for himself. For me. “It’s not safe for you out here. Not tonight.”

A chill crawled up my spine. “Tonight?”

“The moon,” he said softly, looking up through the branches. The faintest sliver of light was rising beyond the horizon. “It brings them out.”

“Them?”

He didn’t respond.

“Kael,” I pressed, stepping closer. “You keep saying all these cryptic things—‘the island remembers,’ ‘you’re not safe,’ ‘you don’t remember’—what does it even mean? What’s out there?”

He looked at me for a long time. The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves between us. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost pained. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’d think I’m a monster.”

Something about the way he said it made my heart twist. “Maybe I already do,” I said quietly. “But I’m still standing here.”

That pulled a low breath from him—almost a laugh, almost a growl. “You shouldn’t be.”

His gaze dropped to my lips. For a heartbeat, the world shrank—just his breath, his eyes, the wind tangled in my hair. There was something magnetic in the air between us, humming like a current.

“Kael,” I whispered, unsure if I was asking or warning.

He stepped closer until there was barely space to breathe. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, Luna.”

The way he said Luna—not like my name, but a truth my body already knew—made my knees weak.

“Don’t call me that,” I said, though my voice came out softer than I wanted.

“I can’t help it,” he murmured. “Every time I’m near you, it’s like the island itself is… waking.”

“Kael, you’re scaring me.”

“I should,” he said, and his voice broke on the edge of something dangerous.

Before I could answer, the sound returned—louder, closer. A deep, resonant howl that rattled through the trees like thunder. Kael stiffened instantly.

I turned toward the sound, my instincts screaming to run. But some part of me—the part I didn’t understand—felt something else. Recognition.

My pulse matched the rhythm of the howls. My palms tingled. The air thickened with static, heavy with the scent of pine and something metallic.

Kael stepped in front of me, shoulders squared. “Stay behind me.”

The authority in his tone wasn’t human.

I opened my mouth to argue, but then I saw them—two glowing eyes in the dark. Not silver like his. Red. Burning.

The creature stepped out of the shadows, and my breath caught. It looked like a wolf, but wrong—twice the size, its fur matted with mud and streaks of black. Its teeth gleamed wet under the faint light, and its gaze locked on me like it knew exactly who I was.

Kael’s hand shot out, pushing me back gently but firmly. “Don’t move.”

“What is that?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. His eyes began to glow brighter, silver bleeding into them like molten light. His voice dropped, low and guttural. “You need to run.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll find you.”

The creature snarled, and Kael moved—so fast the air itself seemed to bend. The impact was violent—a blur of motion, claws, and roars echoing through the forest.

I stumbled back, tripping on a root, heart slamming against my ribs. The world spun in flashes—Kael’s silver glow, the beast’s crimson eyes, the ground trembling beneath their fight.

And then—silence.

“Kael?” I whispered.

No answer.

The forest seemed to hold its breath. I took a shaky step forward, eyes darting toward the direction he’d disappeared. The trees loomed darker, denser. The scent of rain and earth hung heavy in the air.

And then… I heard it. A whisper. Not from Kael. From the dark.

Callisandra.

The name wasn’t mine—but it echoed in my head like it belonged there.

I froze, breath catching. The shadows shifted again, and more pairs of eyes appeared—red, dozens of them, circling.

My instincts screamed run, but my feet wouldn’t move. My body felt caught between two worlds—the human fear that wanted to flee, and something deeper… primal… that wanted to fight.

“Kael,” I whispered again, voice breaking.

And then—one of the creatures stepped forward, lips curling back. Its growl rumbled like thunder.

Before I could move, it lunged.