Introduction

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The crisp autumn air of Stockholm whispered through the narrow streets of Södermalm, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and damp cobblestones. Anton Lindberg pulled his jacket tighter around him as he strolled past the familiar cafes and bars, the city glowing with the hum of evening life. Laughter echoed from the terraces, and the flicker of candlelight spilled from every window, but Anton felt strangely out of place in the warmth of it all.

Something had changed.

It wasn't just the chill that clung to his skin or the way the moon hung unusually low in the sky-full and menacing, casting an eerie silver light over the city. No, it was something deeper. Something primal that gnawed at his insides ever since that night, two weeks ago, when a seemingly innocent walk through Tantolunden had taken a dark and irreversible turn. He didn't like to think about it-the wild creature in the shadows, the teeth, the blood-but the memory of that bite burned in his mind like a brand.

Anton's pulse quickened as he crossed into the shadows of a quiet alley, away from the bustling nightlife. He'd been having the same dream over and over: a body, sprawled out on the cobblestones, blood pooling under it like spilled ink. The strange part wasn't the violence of the dream-it was the realization, each time he woke up in a cold sweat, that the body in his dream wore a face he knew all too well: his own.

He shook off the thought, his steps growing more hurried as he neared his apartment. The moon loomed even larger overhead, as though watching him.

Something was wrong with him-he could feel it. And the worst part? He had no idea how much longer he could hide it.

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