Chapter 1
If I hadn't seen it myself, I never would have believed it.
Or really, I hadn't seen anything at all.
It was my dog — my loyal companion — who, with everything but words and gestures, told me things I couldn't see.
Or hear.
Or smell.
Or sense.
It was there. Not close, but not far either.
Somewhere in between.
Between me and the road.
But behind my dog.
Because she stood at the very front.
She warned me with movement and barking.
She stomped impatiently at the ground with her front paws.
Two seconds later, I understood what she meant.
A man, dressed in black from head to toe, stepped out of the bushes.
He smiled.
It wasn't a real smile. It was forced. Cold. Calculated. Dishonest.
"I must have wandered farther from the road than I thought."
The words were thrown out of him, as if he felt the need to justify himself.
He took a step closer.
My dog reacted immediately.
She barked — a clear warning.
The man wiped sweat from his forehead. He smiled again.
"I live farther down this road," he said suddenly.
Again — a defense.
Maybe there was truth in what he said.
Maybe he was lying.
What was he really doing out in the forest at this hour?
There were no berries to pick yet. No mushrooms either.
He didn't have a dog, or any other animal with him.
And he had been walking through impassable woods — why?
Why so late in the evening?
The light still lingered, but soon it would be dark.
Dark as a grave.
Dark as his clothes.
He would vanish into the night. Become part of it. Become invisible.
To me.
To people.
To unsuspecting passersby.
The words came over me. Almost as if they weren't my own.
Predator.
Dangerous.
Untrustworthy.
The hackles on my dog stood straight up.
But she didn't growl.
Her body was tense. Alert. Ready.
She sniffed the air. She told me everything I needed to know — if I just looked closely enough.
If I had been a dog, maybe I would have felt what she felt.
In the air. In the wind. In my surroundings.
And wasn't I feeling it now?
Rotting carcass.
Death.
Evil.
The gray, bottomless eyes hid something.
How emptiness could conceal anything seemed impossible.
A shield – or a calculated choice.
The emptiness manifested itself across his entire expression.
Neutral. Calculating. Manipulative.
But.
A big but.
Djärv – she was my ultimate sense.
She saw what I couldn't see, hear, or smell.
Long before I did.
The stench betrayed impure thoughts.
A filthy interior.
An evil so strong it couldn't be hidden from my dog.
But she didn't attack. She didn't provoke what stood before me.
Instead, she stayed calm. Collected. Watchful.
Why?
Because he still couldn't do anything.
He was just a phantom, barely resembling a human.
A darkness without end, swaying in the wind between then and now.
And now she had let me know.
She protected me from the evil of the shadows.
The soulless beings hiding in between.
The impure. The filthy. The dead.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead once again.
His eyes flickered – as if he'd been caught.
He knew.
He knew what I had just come to understand.
That what stood before me was not just anything – or anyone.
But that standing before me was a friend so loyal that nothing could stop her.
The man with the gray eyes must have thought I was an easy target.
A little girl.
But he was wrong.
There was nothing to take here.
Nothing to steal.
Only a shield of unstoppable force.
I wished I could see what Djärv saw.
But I trusted what she showed me – in a way I had never been able to perceive before:
Threat.
Danger.
Stay.
Still.
My inner self made me nod with purpose.
Djärv wagged her tail, as if she had heard my thoughts.
I remained standing. Observing. Waiting for what would happen.
And then – like an unexpected gust of wind – he took a deep breath and lunged.
His teeth grew sharper, his gaze keener, his body larger.
He hurled himself toward me – with long, outstretched arms and a darkness that couldn't be touched.
He had come for my body and soul.
He had come to take me.
But he hadn't expected to face Djärv.
Djärv was the dog who kept everything in place.
The dog who wouldn't let anyone pass without knowing what they risked.
The dog who guarded the shadows.
I wanted to scream. To run. To throw myself out of the forest toward safety.
But the shadow never reached me. He became just that—a wraith.
The man's scream faded, and he slowly crawled back into the forest mist.
Away from us.
Away from humanity.
Djärv turned to me and led me away.
Away from evil.
Away from death.
The walk home was filled with reflection.
The change could no longer be denied.
It was here.
Now—not later.
I would need to prepare better next time.
Was this a lesson from Djärv?
Something told me that it was.
She wanted to show me the winds of change that were blowing.
She wanted to show me how I should act.
A shadow or a wraith was not yet a threat—
as long as reason prevailed and fear didn't take over.
But I knew there was more hiding among us.
That, I had come to understand,
and I dared to believe I could even sense it.
For there were shadows in everyday life too.
Shadows among people—
who had become far too skilled at hiding among us?
