Controlled Burn (BxB) (Werewolf)

Chapter 3: The Call

The world was shrouded in darkness when Callum awoke. He slipped off his sleep mask and glanced at the clock on his bedside table; the neon green numbers glowed ominously - 3:16 AM. He could hear the house settling, the creaks and groans of aging framework and foundation echoing through the silent halls.

There was a chill in the air. Goosebumps prickled across his bare skin as a soft breeze curled around him. Odd, considering the window was firmly shut. His heart pounded in his chest as he pulled the blankets up to his chin, casting anxious glances at the window, half-expecting to see it open. It wasn't.

His nature-tuned senses were buzzing and on alert. He couldn't explain how he knew it, but there was a presence – a commanding, primordial power that throbbed with ancient wisdom, and was as calming as it was daunting. It was a sensation that felt both alien and strangely familiar, an uncanny instinct.

Suddenly, there was a low rustling sound, like a sigh through tree leaves, and then the room filled with a faint, bioluminescent glow. To his astonishment, a myriad of delicate, translucent spores floated down from the ceiling, swirling in the windless room like ethereal snowflakes.

And then he appeared.

A figure took shape amidst the floating spores. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing. His long red beard cascaded down his chest, complementing a wild, fiery mane of hair. His face was weathered, marked by the passage of time, yet his eyes were vibrant, filled with ancient wisdom and a touch of mischief. His clothes seemed a mix of old and new: a worn, leather jacket, a shirt of natural fibers, and boots, dusted with soil as if he'd just walked out of the forest.

Startled, Callum yelped and held out his hands in defense. A power from deep within surfaced. The energy within him, the same kind of energy inside all other living things, underwent a drastic conversion. Green light overwhelmed the glow of the spores and filled the room. A rush of heat washed over Callum's face as green flames, the same green flames he saw when he closed his eyes, burst from his palms and rushed to the stranger.

The stranger exhaled softly and Callum's senses went haywire. A gust of wind flowed from the man's mouth with enough force to push Callum's flames away. His clock, the picture of his parents, and the lamp fell off his nightstand. The wind pushed Callum against the headboard of his bed while his flames flickered out into nothingness. Callum's hair was windswept and his bangs were blown back. Shocked, Callum stared at the stranger with wide eyes.

"Sheesh," the man said before giving Callum a thumbs up. "That was bussin'..."

Callum's jaw dropped, momentarily stunned with bewilderment. "Wh-what?"

"That's what your generation says these days, right?" the man asked casually, as if he wasn't in the middle of criminal trespassing and an exchange of magical power. "Or was I too extra?"

The man sifted his fingers through his beard. "Oh, good, I thought you might have burnt it."

Glued to his headboard, Callum was nearly at a loss for words. "Who...who are you?" he managed to stutter, clutching his blankets tighter.

The man chuckled, a low rumble like distant thunder. "No need to be afraid, lad," he said, his voice gruff yet soothing. "My name's Rowan. I'm a friend."

Rowan seemed to glide across the room, the spores dancing around him. "Callum, right?" he asked, his deep-set eyes glinting with curiosity.

"How do you... know my name?" Callum's voice was barely a whisper.

Rowan's eyes twinkled. He reached down and grabbed the picture of Callum's parents. For a moment, he looked it over before tossing it on the bed at Callum's feet. "I knew your mother. Your fire's the same color as hers was, you know. Yeah, Catherine Throne... such a nice young lady."