The One

First encounter

   It had been a few years since that dream had first invaded Karol's mind, a relentless spectre that refused to fade into the shadows of her memory. Like a broken record stuck in an endless loop, it tormented her every night, resurrecting itself just when she began to forget. The dream had begun on her 21st birthday—a day she often deemed her yearly annoyance—a celebration that clashed sharply with her introverted nature. While her family revelled in grand festivities, indulging in luxury for the sake of comfort, she preferred the warmth of solitude, a stark contrast to their vivacious spirit.

    Her family lived by a maxim: if you have the means, then go big or go home. They believed life was a fleeting journey, best spent savouring experiences rather than hoarding wealth for the grave. But for her, the philosophy of "go big" felt foreign; she was content with the simplicity of "go small and stay home."

    Yet amidst this clash of values, the dream loomed large in her life, bringing to mind a particular werewolf—a creature that haunted her thoughts and invaded her very being. Her fascination with such beasts had been ignited in childhood, thanks to her grandparents' enchanting tales, bedtime stories that danced with the vivid imagery of how werewolves looked, how they lived, and how they hunted. They described these creatures with such detail that young Karol embraced the idea, wishing she was somehow connected to their mysteries. Who wouldn't want a dash of the supernatural in their life?

    But growing older brought a shift, and what was once exciting became an unsettling phantasm. She began to regard her childhood dreams with scepticism, doubting the allure of the werewolf mythos that had enthralled her. The once-cherished stories morphed into sources of resentment, and her childhood obsession evolved into aversion. Wolves—the very thought of them made her blood run cold, whether it was a shadow in the woods or a mere stuffed toy.

    As the years slipped by, the dream transformed from an annual occurrence into a monthly torment, and as her 24th birthday approached, it became a relentless weekly visitation. Those four years felt like an eternity spent reliving the same relentless nightmare. On nights when she desired nothing more than peaceful repose, the dream returned, beckoning her into a familiar yet chilling realm.

    In the dream, she would find herself lying in a pristine forest, the air heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth. She breathed deeply, savouring the revitalising embrace of nature. Then, from the hazy distance, she would catch sight of it—a wolf, its fur a stunning blend of midnight black and dark blue, its gaze fixed intently upon her. Surrounded by neatly arranged trees and bathed in vibrant morning light, the scene was breathtaking, a picturesque moment that could easily shift into a nightmare at a single thought.

    That magnificent wolf lay still, watching her from a distance, its size both majestic and intimidating. Suddenly, it stood, not like a man but on all fours, a towering creature that dwarfed her—three, no, five times larger than any wolf she had ever seen. In her terror and awe, she had initially mistaken its stature for a bear, but as it approached, she recognised it for what it truly was—a werewolf, standing taller than any human.

    Initially, she had shared her visions with her family, recounting the vivid dreams. But as the dreams grew more frequent and distressing, she chose silence, retreating into her own world of nightmares. The first glimpse of this imposing wolf had come on her 21st birthday, and in her childish innocence, she had believed it to be merely a figment of her imagination. But the dreams returned—each one amplifying the sense of dread and fascination—and she was left wondering what these visions truly meant for her.

   At the age of 23, she found herself haunted once more by the same enigmatic dream—this time, the midnight black wolf lay closer to the trees, its sad eyes fixed upon her. As she neared her 24th birthday, the intensity of the dreams escalated. Each week, and sometimes every few days, the wolf would return, gazing at her with an almost palpable sorrow.

    In these dreams, the wolf prowled with an air of calmness that radiated a protective aura, compelling her to settle down and mimic its movements. It felt as though they were attempting to communicate, sharing a silent exchange, marked only by the gentle whispers of the wind that brushed against her cheeks.

    However, each time their gaze met, she would be jolted awake by the shrill blare of her alarm, the dream always fading before she could seize its meaning. The dreams had lost their initial intensity—she was growing accustomed to the presence of the wolf.