It was a calm, warm night. The full moon gazed down on the earth below, bathing everything in a silver blanket. A gentle breeze was blowing and shadows of trees swayed in a gentle dance. A small house, tucked away in a grove of trees stood in the moonlight. All windows were open, letting the gentle breeze and smell of pine surround the family sleeping peacefully there. Laying at the foot of the master bed was an old, silver furred wolf. He opened his tired eyes and raised his head. He held his head proudly and his muzzle was scarred from many battles that he fought alongside his master. After a few moments, the old wolf stood and jumped off the bed. His master felt the movement and lifted his head while his wife shifted in her sleep, not ready to wake up on such a peaceful night. The master looked down at the old wolf.
"What is it?" he asked.
The wolf looked up at his master with calm eyes. He couldn't speak, but he could communicate with his master through his eyes. No one was sure if he had telepathy or not, but some swore he did. When those grey eyes landed on yours, they read your soul and shared their own voice. Now, he was telling his master that there was something on the property. Something evil. Something supernatural.
The man crawled out of bed, careful not to wake his wife, and followed his wolf downstairs. The man peeked into two small bed rooms that were side by side where his two children slept. He noticed his daughter wasn't in her room and had a small sense of panic. He opened the door to his son's room and was relieved to find her tucked next to her older brother. The young boy was awake and looked up when his door opened. He was nearly identical to his father, wavy sandy-blonde hair and broad shoulders. The difference being that the boy had green eyes and his father had blue. The young girl sleeping next to him took after their mother with her brunette hair and emerald eyes.
"She had a nightmare," the young boy, whispered.
The father smiled. "That's fine. Go back to bed. I'll be right back."
The boy nodded and closed his eyes as his father met his old friend at the end of the hall.
The old wolf turned his long muzzle towards the open window and looked at his master again. The tall man reached behind the TV stand that was resting on the corner of the room. Behind the wooden frame was a hidden compartment that held a long-sword. He pulled the blade from its resting place and it gleamed in the moonlight from the window. It had seams across the blade as if it could fold in half a few times. In reality, the blade would split into a bunch of small pieces. The man would then bend his ice magic to connect the pieces in an ice "chain", converting the magical blade into a whip-like weapon.
He wandered over to the window and looked around.
"I'm not seeing anything, buddy,"
The wolf whined and placed his front paws on the window sil. He looked up at his master almost pleadingly.
"Sorry, there's nothing there. Maybe your senses are getting rusty?"
Then a single voice seemed to surround them, fill the very fiber of their being with nightmares and darkness. A voice so cold it could freeze time and a tone so sharp it could pierce the thickest and strongest of steel.
"Hello, James."
