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It's hard to describe, but there's something wrong with this town.

On the outside, Blairville seems like an insignificant small town in the middle of an island deep in the forests of Canada, just existing. Secluded and isolated.

Only at night, when you lie in bed with the window open, can you hear them. If you are quiet enough and listen.

It is as if faint voices were whispering.

You feel a prickling sensation on your skin, as if someone were watching you, a cool breeze, almost imperceptible, yet real enough to send shivers down your spine.

But when you go to the window, there is nothing there. Only the deep night, with the shadows of the bony branches stretching up to the sky and curving over us. Almost as if they want to devour us.

Then, on the streets, in the evening mist, it creeps, climbs through dead trees, creaks in the floorboards of old mansions, and whirls up the dry leaves of eternal autumn.

I can feel it. On the back of my neck. Lurking there.

When I turn around, it's gone. Vanished. Never been there.

I thought I was going crazy, just like our families.

But now this feeling has grown stronger. It reaches for me more often.

It's as if it's breathing, growing, waiting every day for us to be alone... waiting for the right moment.

The species found Blairville in the early days, but what if it wasn't a coincidence? What if something wanted it that way? What if there's something out there that lured us here?

This town belongs to us. On paper. But I'm slowly realizing that it doesn't want that.

It has a will of its own.

It breathes.

The town...

It's alive.

Epilogue

Swept

Jay Varton

The director of Vanderwood University stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in the Alpha's study on the Copeland estate and – with an amused smile – let his watchful gaze wander to the meadow, where his niece was busy pretending to train with Bayla Adams.

His niece grabbed her and threw her into the mud, but instead of staying down, Bayla got back to her feet, stepped backward in a circle, and stared overwhelmed at Emely until the yellow glow entered her eyes as well.

His smile disappeared.

He knew she wasn't a Senseque, but no matter how many nights he spent going through the collection of old Latin books in the Dragonfly Society's secret room, he couldn't find any satisfactory answers.

There was only one thing left to do. The thing he had been forbidden to do. He had to learn the language of the shadows.

His niece threw her onto the damp meadow again. This time more violently. Brutally.

He winced, automatically clenching his teeth.

He would have preferred to be the one training her, to spare her all the pain, but Emely was the one whose loyalty his brother would never question.

Once again, she pushed herself up, completely out of breath, yet still raising her fists.