Chapter 2 The Night That Breathes

Morning sun came slow, like it didn’t want to show up. The rain had stopped, but the sky stayed gray, heavy, and unsure.

I sat by the window with a cup of coffee that had already gone cold. Outside, a stray dog limped down the empty street. Its fur stuck flat, wet and rough. Every step looked painful.

It stopped right in the middle of the road and looked straight at me.

Not just looked… it stared.

For a second, I froze. The way its eyes locked at mine made me feel like it knew me somehow. Like it had seen me before.

My fingers tightened around the cup. I blinked my eye for a second, and just like that, the dog was gone.

I told myself it was nothing. Just my mind playing games after a long night. But when I picked up the mug again, I felt it…this tiny, soft vibration under the porcelain. Like a heartbeat.

I dropped it before I even realized. Coffee spilled across the table.

By the time I got to the hospital, the air felt different. Thicker and strange Like walking through a room full of secrets.

The lights was kind of dim, and even the sound of footsteps felt distant. Everyone moved quietly, like the building itself didn’t want noise.

Elena met me by the elevator. Her hair was messy, her smile tired but warm. “Hey, miracle worker,” she said, handing me a paper cup of coffee. “Heard what you did last night.”

I tried to act casual. “Rumors travel fast.”

“Not a rumor,” she said. “Dr. Myers said one second the kid was crashing, and the next, you had him breathing like nothing happened. You sure you’re not hiding something?”

I forced a laugh. “Sleep deprivation, maybe.”

She tilted her head. “You look like you haven’t slept in years.”

I shrugged. “It’s just been a long week.”

“Then take a break,” she said. “You can’t save the world if you drop dead in the process.”

I smiled because that’s what she expected. But inside, I was still stuck on the silver flash from last night. That soft burn that wasn’t supposed to be there anymore.

The day was slow. Charts, blood pressure checks, more smiles than I felt. The usual. But beneath all the hospital noise, something else moved—quiet, steady, alive. Like the walls were breathing.

Then it came. A low sound, distant but deep enough to shake something in my heart. A howl.

I froze mid-step.

Elena glanced up. “You okay?”

“Did you hear that?”

She frowned. “Hear what?”

I looked toward the window. The sound had faded, but I could still feel it—like a memory echoing through my bones. “Nothing,” I said.

But it wasn’t nothing. I’d heard that howl before. A long time ago, in a place I didn’t want to remember.

When my shift ended, Elena tried again. “Dinner tonight? You’ve been hiding lately.”

I wanted to say yes. I wanted noise, laughter, anything normal. But the tug in my chest came back, stronger this time. “Rain check?”

She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

The sky was painted red when I walked out. The kind of red that makes everything look alive and wrong at the same time. I cut through the park because I needed air. The path was slick, leaves crushed under my shoes.

Halfway through, the wind changed. The trees whispered in that strange, shivering way they do right before something happens.

“Hello?” I called out.

Silence.

Then, movement. A shape between the trees—tall, fast, dark hair, eyes catching the last bit of light. Gone before I could blink.

My heart jumped. I started walking faster. My pulse beat in my throat. At the park’s edge, I turned one last time. Nothing was there, but the air felt heavy, humming.

When I got home, I locked the door. Twice. My hands were shaking again. I tried to make soup, but my stomach turned before the first spoonful. I lit a candle and tried to read, but the words wouldn’t stay still.

Then the rain started again—soft, steady, the kind that keeps the world quiet. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, counting my breathe.

That’s when I heard it again.

A howl.

Far this time, but long and low, stretching through the night. The kind that doesn’t just reach your ears…it reaches your soul.

Every part of me reacted. My hands burned. My chest ached. I pressed my palms against the blanket and whispered, “Stop.”

It didn’t stop.

The sound faded only when the clock started ticking louder. The air in my room pulsed, slow and alive, matching the beat under my skin.

I got up and went to the window. The moon was hiding behind thick clouds, but there was light bleeding through them…a deep red glow, like the sky itself was hurt.

Then a whisper brushed across my mind. Not from outside. From inside.

The moon remembers you.

I stumbled back. My mug fell, shattered against the floor. I dropped to my knees, breathing fast. “No,” I whispered. “Not again.”

I stayed there until the whisper faded, until my heartbeat slowed just enough to stand.

When morning sun finally showed up, the world looked normal again. The sun was out, the city loud. Like nothing strange had ever happened.

Elena handed me coffee at work. “Rough night?”

“You could say that.”

She scrolled through her phone. “You see the news? Another body by the river. They’re saying wolves again.”

My throat tightened. “That’s… terrible.”

“Yeah. They said it was bad. Like, really bad.”

“Wolves don’t come this close to people,” I said quietly.

“Tell that to whoever’s cleaning up the mess.” She tried to laugh, but it came out weak. “And guess what? They said the moon turned red last night.”

My pen slipped from my fingers. “Red?”

She nodded. “Creepy, right?”

I forced a small smile, but my pulse was racing again.

Later, I stepped outside for air. The sky was bright, but behind the sunlight, I saw it…the faint outline of the moon, still there, pale and watching.

That night, I sat by my window again. The city lights flickered like nervous stars. I should’ve felt safe up here, but I didn’t.

Something was out there. Something that had once known my name.

I pulled my knees close and whispered, “Maybe it’s just fear. Maybe it’s memory pretending to be real.”

But the sound under my skin came back….soft, steady, alive.

It felt like the heartbeat of the world.

And somewhere in the distance, I swear another one answered.