Emerald Martins, freshman, Maryville College
I always thought that strange things only happened at night the hour of shadows, whispers, and secrets too afraid of sunlight. But sometimes, mystery walks beside you in daylight, dressed like any other college student. Sometimes it wears a familiar face, even when you're certain you've never met it.
That day began like most others. I dragged myself out of bed, tossed on a hoodie, and went about classes like I hadn't seen two monsters fight under the moonlight just a few nights ago. You'd think something like that would change everything instantly—but Maryville College has a funny way of wrapping the extraordinary in the ordinary.
Still, something had shifted. I was no longer just a student. I was a witness. A secret-keeper. Maybe even… something more.
A Glimpse of Gold
It was early evening when I left the library, backpack slung over my shoulder and a mind cluttered with more than overdue readings. The sky above campus was the color of worn copper orange melting into blue, one of those beautiful dusks that tricks you into feeling safe.
I didn't notice her at first.
Not until I'd walked a full fifty yards down the library steps, crossed the little footbridge over the creek, and reached the pine-laced path back toward Everdale Hall. That's when I felt it.
That prickling sensation like someone watching you, but not casually. Watching with intention.
I turned slightly.
There she was.
A girl I'd never seen before, though something about her felt oddly…familiar. Blonde hair, pale and shimmery like moonlight on ice. She wore a light blue sweater and jeans, but it was her eyes that unnerved me. A piercing shade of silver-gray, framed by lashes so pale they were almost white. And they were locked on me.
Not the kind of passing glance you give to someone with cool shoes or a nice hairstyle. This was a stare that knew.
I looked away, quickened my pace. Yet I could still feel her gaze pressing into my back like a heatless flame.
"Emerald."
When I'd passed her by at least ten steps, I heard it.
"Emerald."
My feet froze mid-stride.
My name.
A stranger had just called me by my name. I turned slowly, every nerve alert.
She was closer now, as if she'd glided forward rather than walked. Her arms were folded calmly, but her head tilted slightly, watching me with a quiet intensity that felt unnerving.
"How do you know my name?" I asked, my voice low but firm.
She smiled, but it wasn't exactly friendly. It was knowing. A secret smile.
"I'm Millicent," she said. "But you can call me Millie."
My heart skipped. That name. Millicent. I'd heard it before.
Where?
She stepped closer. "I've been wanting to talk to you, Emerald. You've got potential. A presence about you. A strength. I can sense it."
I swallowed. "You still haven't answered my question. How do you know me?"
Again, she gave me that smile. Then, without missing a beat, she said, "Because you're like me."
Those words hit like a cold gust of wind.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," she said gently, "you've seen things. Things you can't explain. Things you shouldn't have seen… unless you were one of us."
One of us.
I didn't know whether to run or scream.
She folded her arms behind her back and tilted her head again. "I lead a group here on campus. A private circle. We call ourselves the Millie-Wolves."
The name hit like a bell in my head. That's it. That's where I'd heard it.
My roommates.
A few days ago, they'd been whispering about a mysterious girl named Millicent who tried to get students to join her "pack." They joked that she always promised the same thing—that whoever joined would become her "second in command."
A clever recruitment trick.
Now here she was, reciting the same words.
"If you join us," she said, stepping closer, "you won't just be another member. You'll be my second. My partner."
I took a slow step back. "I'll think about it."
Her smile didn't falter, but I saw something flicker in her eyes—something sharp. "Don't take too long. Some offers expire with the moon."
And just like that, she turned and walked away, vanishing into the twilight like she'd never been there.
The Dream
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I lay in bed, eyes wide open, the ceiling fan whirring above me like a lazy propeller. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face—her stare. It wasn't threatening, exactly, but it was far from friendly. I didn't know what she wanted, but something told me she wouldn't accept a simple "no."
When I finally drifted into sleep, it was deep and strange.
I was no longer in my dorm room.
I stood in the middle of a dense white forest—snow beneath my bare feet, moonlight spilling through crystalline branches.
A figure approached me from the fog. Tall. Cloaked in gray. His voice reached me before he did.
"Do not join the Millie-Wolves."
I blinked. "What?"
"They are not your path," he said. "They serve the shadows. You are of the light."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Who are you?"
He stopped in front of me. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but I could see his mouth move.
"You belong with the White Wolves."
I laughed, despite myself. "Is this a joke?"
"It is a calling."
His tone held no humor.
"You were chosen, Emerald. And you must choose."
"Chosen by who? For what?"
But before he could answer, the white forest began to shake. A loud ringing filled the air—shrill, persistent.
My alarm.
Awake, but Changed
I jolted awake, breath caught in my throat, heart racing. The dream lingered in my mind, not hazy like dreams usually are, but crystal clear. Every word. Every image. Every sensation.
It didn't feel like a dream. It felt like a visit.
For the entire day, I couldn't shake it.
I found myself scanning the crowd between classes, half-expecting the hooded figure to step out from behind a tree, or for Millicent to appear with that same unnerving stare.
The more I thought about it, the more questions clawed at me:
Who are the Millie-Wolves, really?
What does it mean to be part of the White Wolves?
Why me?
What was I chosen for?
Another Warning
That afternoon, I saw Millicent again—across the quad. She was seated on a bench beneath the statue of our college's founder, smiling up at someone I didn't recognize. I ducked before she could see me.
But someone else saw me.
Another student I didn't recognize, leaning against a lamppost, watching me with dark, knowing eyes. When our gazes met, he gave a slight nod and mouthed the words: "Not her."
I froze. When I looked again, he was gone.
Pull Between Two Worlds
That night, as I sat at my desk pretending to study, I felt like a thread being pulled between two opposing forces. One dark and magnetic. The other hidden and glowing softly with quiet strength.
Part of me wanted to forget all of this—to pretend I hadn't heard my name in the dark, hadn't seen monsters by moonlight, hadn't dreamed of wolves and snowy forests. But that part was shrinking.
The other part—the one that felt strangely alive, like something ancient was stirring in my blood—was growing.
I wasn't just a witness anymore. I was becoming something more.
The Next Step
I didn't know what I would do yet.
Would I confront Millicent? Would I find this mysterious group called the White Wolves? Would I see that hooded figure again—this time outside of a dream?
I didn't know.
But I knew this:
Whatever was happening to me… it had already begun.