I felt nervous to see Isaac the next day. My encounter with his father kept going through my mind as I overanalysed everything he'd done and said during it. It was silly, but I couldn't stop the worry as I went downstairs for breakfast.

"Good morning," Victoria greeted when she saw me.

I smiled slightly, grabbing a plate of food. "Morning."

I sat down and started eating when Chris entered the room, giving me a wave.

"Make any friends yesterday?" he asked me, a mug of coffee in his hand.

I nodded, my mind straying to Isaac and his curls. "Yeah, I did."

When we got to school, I followed Allison inside to her locker, where she seemed distracted as she looked at something at the end of the hall. I followed her gaze and found Scott staring back at her, a soft smile on his face.

"Why are you guys a secret?" I asked, breaking whatever moment they had going on.

Allison jumped, startled, and looked at me, an uncomfortable expression on her face as she shifted around. "Oh, um, my parents don't approve of him."

I could tell it was a sore topic for her so I dropped the subject, instead changing it to what classes we had first thing. When we realised we had the same ones, I bid her goodbye, promising to meet up with her before class started and wove my way through the crowd to my own locker.

I got my stuff, but my mind wouldn't stop nagging me about Isaac so eventually I gave up trying to ignore it and started looking for him. It was a struggle, especially with how big the school was and how many people walked through the halls, but I managed to find him at what must have been his locker.

I went up to him and somewhat awkwardly said, "hi."

Isaac's head shot up from where he'd been scrounging through his bag, startled, but his lips curved into a small smile when he recognised me. "Hey."

I felt relieved as I looked at him, my concerns finally calming down. He looked fine; no new bruises or cuts. He didn't even seem upset. I silently I told you so'd myself as I flashed him a smile, grateful he was okay.

I wanted to ask about his dad and about why he seemed so scared, but I was decided against it last minute, switching my question to what class he had first. When our classes didn't align we both let out a sigh of disappointment, then grinned sheepishly at one another.

We were interrupted by the warning bell ringing, signalling we only had 5 minutes till class, and we bid each other goodbye before going our separate ways. I met up with Allison and we went to our first class together: History.

I listened to our teacher drone on about the training American armies used to have to go through, and grimaced when I was reminded of my own training with Kate. It was safe to say that she had certainly never gone easy on me, and that every training day was like boot camp, not to mention the actual boot camp she'd sent me to over the summer when I was old enough.

Class after class went by, none of them with Isaac or Allison, and eventually lunch time rolled around. I got my food from the cafeteria and made a beeline to the table Isaac was sitting at, greeting him with a smile when I sat down opposite him.

We talked for majority of lunch, having warmed up to each other more after yesterday. Usually I took a while to make friends, but there was something about Isaac that just drew me in. It was comforting, and enticing, and I couldn't keep myself away.

We were talking still when Erica walked past us, glancing back at me. I smiled at her hopefully but she just looked away, continuing on and carefully avoiding Jackson's table. I sighed and focused back on Isaac when the conversation changed to extra curriculars.

He seemed very surprised when I told him about the stuff I'd done growing up and asked me if I was going to continue any of it here in Beacon Hills. I went quiet for a bit, mulling over his words. I'd thought about it before, wondering if I should continue my training like Kate would have wanted, but I'd never made a decision, because I wasn't sure I wanted to continue. I finally had the freedom to do what I liked, and I wasn't sure I liked what Kate had made me do.

"Probably not," I said eventually, shrugging my shoulders. "Not interested in much of it anymore. What about you? Do you do anything outside of school?"

"I'm on the lacrosse team," he offered. "Nothing fancy like you, but it's a school thing and looks good on college applications, so..."

I was surprised he did lacrosse, as I knew Jackson did it and had created a picture in my head of Jackson like guys on the team, but was pleased nonetheless. "Oh, that's really cool. When's your next game?"

"Um, I'm not sure when the next game will be, but there's a training session in a few days which you can come watch, if you want to, of course."

I smiled. "I'd love to come."

The conversation strayed to family members, and I was once again forced to explain the confusion that was my family. Talking about it with Isaac wasn't as bad as it normally was though, and it felt good to tell him about it. I was startled to find out that Isaac's mother had died only about a year ago, and his older brother shortly after that.

We bonded over our lost family members, feeling strangely comforted that we had someone else who had gone through similar experiences to us. There were a lot of differences in our situations, but we had both lost important family members, and that was all that really mattered. Our shared grief.

After lunch, I had a few classes with Isaac, and we spent them together. We'd gotton a lot closer now that we knew more about one another, and I was glad. I needed some friends here, and Isaac was rapidly becoming my closest one.

When the end of the day came, Isaac and I said out goodbyes and Allison drove us home. I didn't have any homework I could complete without Isaac, so I wandered around the house aimlessly, exploring a bit more before giving up and going to my room. I was going to start reading a book when my eyes found my wardrobe and I remembered the strange book.

I also remembered my vow to never touch it again, but my curiosity overwhelmed me and I took the book out of the closet, careful to keep it wrapped up in the piece of clothing. I set it on the bed and stared at it, hands on hips as I decided what to do. Should I touch it again? I desperately wanted to know what was inside, where it came from, why it made me feel weird, but I was also scared. I'd never felt anything like it before, and I wasn't sure if opening it would be a good idea.

I sat on my bed and stared at the book, hands in my lap, before I inched closer. Another few minutes I moved closer, and closer, and closer, until eventually I had the book unwrapped and my hands hovering over it, needed one last little push. I thought of Kate, of how she forced me to do the things I was afraid of, forced me to never let my fear win, and placed my hands on the book.

The same feeling of being drunk on power pumped through my veins, and I closed my eyes, embracing it instead of running from it. I felt it travel inside me, and then as quick as it came it was gone.

No, not gone. It was still there, but it was waiting. For what, I wasn't sure, but I was aware of it, and strangely it felt like it'd been with me all my life, like I'd always had this feeling inside me but was only now conscious of it.

I opened the book and was surprised to find handwritten words in it. I wasn't sure why I was so shocked; the book looked old enough to be a handwritten one, and I wondered once again how it had gotton in my room.

I read the first page, titled as Introduction.

Dear reader,

If you have found this book, there is a war on the horizon. A war between human and werewolf. There have been many wars like this over the centuries, and while there are hundreds of years difference between the wars, there is always something that stays the same. The witch. In each war, there has always been a witch. This witch can be young or old, big or small, but they are always in the middle of the war. It is their job to choose which side to fight on, to choose a side and make sure it wins. That witch this time is you, and it is your job to choose which side to fight on. This book is here to help guide you; teach you how to use your magic. Only a witch is able to open it, and there is only ever one witch alive at a time. Use this book with care.

Sincerely,

The First Witch.

I stared at the book doubtfully. What was this supposed to be? Some fairy tale? Did Allison put it on my bed because she wanted to see if I thought it was good? I was bewildered, wondering if maybe it was a prank, when I remembered the stories Kate had told me about witches.

About a war between werewolves and hunters, and the witch in the middle of it all.

I stared at the book with mixed feelings. On one hand I was certain this was all some kind of joke, a prank to see if I was gullible. On the other hand I couldn't think of how they would have made me feel the power I'd felt when holding the book, or known what stories Kate had told me when I was younger.

I reread the introduction and decided to put it to the test, to see if it really was telling the truth. I got up and walked to Allison's room, the book clutched in my hands, and knocked on her door. She answered with a smile, her eyes straying to the battered old book with undisguised curiosity.

"Hey, um, I can't open this book and I was wondering if you could?" I asked, preparing to be made a fool of as I passed her the book.

Allison looked at me confused. "What do you mean you can't open it."

"Like, um, it's stuck together. Glued or something. It was something of Kate's," I lied.

Allison seemed a tad weirded out but complied with my request, positioning the book better to open it. She moved her hands, but the book stayed firmly shut and Allison frowned. She turned it around and tried the other way, but the book didn't open.

She handed it to me with her brow creased. "Sorry, I can't open it either."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Are you pranking me?"

Allison looked startled. "No? I genuinely can't open the book, just like you."

Just like you.

I nodded my head and went back into my own room without another word. I believed her when she said she couldn't open the book, which meant the book was telling the truth, yet I couldn't bring myself to believe that the werewolves I had grown up being told stories of were real. That there were beasts in the night, preying on the innocent. That Kate had known about them; about me, if this book was to be believed.

I opened the book, turning a few pages before arriving at a spell that lit candles. It seemed simple enough, and I followed the instructions half heartedly, feeling silly as I chanted the strange words in the book.

Fire overtook my vision as every candle in my room alighted. I gasped, staring at them in disbelief before back at the book. It was real. Everything was real. I had just used magic to light a candle. I couldn't wrap my mind around it all, that everything was real. The book was real. The magic was real. The werewolves must have been real too, which meant the hunters were also true.

I blew out every candle in my room and picked up the book again, settling in my bed as I read well into the night.