“Rise and feast, chosen wolf,” a voice booming, resonating within him, not as a plea or a command, but as a force of nature beckoning him to yield and obey.

“Feast? Feast on what?” He tried to say it out loud, but nothing dared to escape his throat.

Awareness only came gradually to Ezra. Was he dreaming? Within his dreams, he was rarely a participant but more of an onlooker, never quite able to influence what was happening.

But this was real. He was trying to move, to try and feel the ground beneath him, but there wasn’t anything.

“Think of what they did to you,” the disembodied voice called out again, almost pleading, mirroring empathy.

"What did they do to me? Who?” Ezra knew exactly who, deep down.

His classmates—he just knew that it was them he was supposed to think of. And yet, he still decided to play dumb, act like he had no idea.

Then, all of a sudden, visions of the past appeared, as though there was an old tube TV right before his eyes.

The looks on the faces of others. The things they bothered to say to him. Days spent at home instead of being in school.

People, talking behind his back, making things up, and twisting things further and further. Until now, there was still a slight flicker of hope—hope that this was just some elaborate joke he was at the end of. But no, something had Ezra in its clutches—something much worse.

“You can get payback for what they did to you.”

The voice was trying to convince him, whispering, trying to lull him into doing it's bidding.

Ezra, however, was starting to not even register the words anymore; instead, he focused on trying to move, trying his hardest to get a feel for his extremities, much like trying to regain control during sleep paralysis; he focused on his toes, and even without the sliver of a response, it aided him in ignoring the sinister nothings that were being whispered in his ear.

But only for so long.

“You could reign free over them; show them. You could make them pay, make them scream, or make them fear you. They deserve it; we know that they deserve it. You could rip at them for every year they took from you. Why resist? Remember”

For every word spoken, Ezra’s senses flared up, only for the tiniest moment of a second, almost as if to showcase how much control he was under. He was supposed to feel the power of whatever was holding him, right down to the marrow of his bones.

The visions, previously only a reminder, now turned more grand and intense; Ezra wasn’t just rewatching his life anymore; he was reliving it.

The looks, the words. How he was treated was like a disease you could catch by being near him.

“Remember”

He did. Every single thing. Again and again.

“Remember”

It surprised Ezra himself that he wasn’t trying to lash out. To make it all stop. Between the laughter and everything, he stared past it all, trying to cut ahead through these memories and look at what was keeping him here.

“You resist. Why resist? Why resist? Do not resist.”

The voice went on and on and on. Chipping at his walls, every word allowed him to feel for just a second.

“Resist no more, be a wolf, rip their throats, tear, cut, break, and cast asunder. Kill, kill, kill, kill.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The commands grew more forceful, gaining a physical aspect beyond merely allowing Ezra to know he was still residing in his body.

Every word was a knife, and every sound was a stab aimed at whatever it wanted. Its frustration made it manifest in real pain. Cutting away at bones, and his throat.

Flashes of light, as he felt something jam into his eyes.

And yet, even in pain, Ezra wouldn’t have dared to imagine yielding.

“Cease, Cease, Cease. Why resist? Suffer. Pain. Obey Wolf, obey, and make them pay. Change, devour, and consume. Kill the lambs, seek the lambs, hunt the lambs, eat, EAT, change, and kill.”

How long had it been? Even the thought of screaming proved pointless; every time Ezra attempted to, it was as if a hand was desperately keeping his mouth shut.

“How? How? How? How does he resist?”

It sounded desperate, confused, and baffled as to why this could be. The disdain in its voice made it sound like it had just realized what kind of pest it was dealing with.

The flashes of pain came few and far between, until eventually they stopped altogether.

A lapse in concentration, a careless moment, whatever it was, Ezra felt himself wake up in full, like blood shooting towards icy fingers, warmth along with the feeling of sore muscles.

He shot up, looking around, his eyes assaulted by white. It was all around, no matter where one looked, without any sense of depth or length between one point or the other, a rubber cell without the padding.

Ezra was fascinated by the sight before him. A room, completely clad in white, without any way to tell how high, or how far the room went on.

He felt his entire body pulsing, reminding him of the pain he endured.

All too familiar as well was the on-set of a migraine Ezra felt approaching: little blobs of gray, followed by little flashing lights, promises of pain, and an aversion to bright lights for the rest of the day.

However, the shapes perceived by Ezra had much more genuine shape to them. and were getting larger.

Somehow, he knew he wasn’t a few minutes away from wanting to pop some painkillers; he was starting to see something, something that wasn’t used to being seen and didn’t want to be either.

It moved erratically, trying to escape his gaze, but it wasn’t hard to track it at all.

“How?!” the voice asked in genuine shock.

Ezra was still hoping he would wake up any second now. He questioned nothing. Why he was here and whether any of it was real. Because why would he? Did it matter? Either he would wake up, or he would have to accept this insanity, and try to deal with it then.

The sensations from before, the pain—he could still feel the attempts being made, but it got easier and easier to resist. It almost felt like he was returning the favor. It was almost as if he were clashing swords with something, and he was starting to win.

“Cease”

We hadn’t quite reached panic in the tone of Ezras’s captor; concern, however, was getting quite audible.

For some reason, Ezras’s mind was picking up on something that started out as nothing but nonsense and gibberish, but then, slowly and surely, it started to make sense.

Voices, many of them, speaking to one another. It was impossible to discern how many. It was more akin to frenzied chanting than anything

It was until he heard the one voice that was familiar, calling out, but not to him. But to something else, for help.

And it answered.

There was no sound at all, and it still felt like a comet had crashed down behind Ezra. Something had heeded the call—something powerful. It's presence alone made Ezra shake.

“You’re stealing from us," said a voice like velvet, clashing against the crushing aura Ezra could feel. Female, soothing, almost.

“Now, how does he do it, I wonder?” honest contemplation in her voice, genuine interest. Though they weren't audible at all, one could feel every single step she took.

Ezra, against better judgement, turned around.

A set of teeth, surprisingly discernible against the coat of white all around, smiling widely, and a floating pair of yellow eyes, attached to a barely distinguishable feminine shape. A soft gray silhouette, pacing back and forth, just at arm’s length.

“I do not enjoy dealing with thieves or humans. And yet you took enough for yourself to warrant attention.”

She took a step closer. The ground beneath seemed to shake, trembling just like Ezra did.

“Hmm, you know, don’t you? You knew from the moment I got here that I was not to be trifled with. Someone who is in your position would feel empowered, and yet you? So quiet and respectful.”

Her grin grew impossibly wider, the outline of her silhouette barely containing her teeth in a plausible manner.

“You just know. The wolf who refuses to be. You resisted for far longer than most; I wonder if it would have been any longer if you didn’t break free.” a low chuckle, one could mistake it for a schoolgirl's laughter.

She started to walk circles around Ezra, giving off the sense that all that was keeping him from being disemboweled on the spot was the fact that he was interesting, even if only for the moment.

“If you are so eager to play the role of a lamb, then by all means, go ahead and play. But you would know better than to reject the hand offering to feed you.”

“Consider what your kind did to actual wolves, and ask yourself if that fate would not suit you better than what is happening outside this little realm of mine.”

Although Ezra couldn’t see it, he felt a hand, the backside of it ghosting over his cheek.

“Such a waste.”

It was the last thing Ezra heard when he was pushed and felt himself falling.