Teen wolf: The legend of Fenrir

Alastar Blake , once known by the name "Demonic Wolf Fenrir," sat behind the wheel of his black Mustang as it roared down the night road towards his new home. Shadows of trees and streetlights flickered in the car's windows, but he paid them no mind. His thoughts were consumed by distant memories and his own existence.

Maybe this time will be different, he thought, glancing at the dark streets. Time in Beacon Hills might bring something new. Yet these thoughts were not light. He knew that even in this new place, he couldn't fully escape his nature.

Memories of a distant past surfaced once more: bloody battles, roars of fear and victory. When he was human, combat was his primary purpose. He dedicated his life to mastering martial arts and fencing, becoming known worldwide for his ability to defeat a hundred warriors single-handedly. But when he learned about the existence of werewolves, it was more than mere curiosity, it was a drive for even greater power.

He recalled the moment of his transformation: how his already inhuman strength evolved into something entirely different. At first, adjusting to the incredible abilities was challenging, but they made him nearly invincible.

He remembered how he killed his first alpha and his pack, how he defeated other clans and absorbed their power. With each new alpha he conquered, he grew stronger, but deep down, he felt only emptiness. Power without purpose was a heavy burden. His form could shift into an enormous wolf, 10 feet tall, covered in black fur with bright red eyes and a shroud of shadowy mist enveloping him. He became a demon, but over time, he realized that immortality and strength did not bring him satisfaction. His search for the meaning of life continued, but he had no family or loved ones to protect.

With these thoughts, he arrived at his new home, hoping that in this town he might find something that adds some color to his life. Perhaps even someone.

Turning off the engine, he started toward the door when he noticed movement next door out of the corner of his eye. A family, just moved in, was unloading items from their car. A man, a woman, and a girl—clearly parents and their daughter. Alaistar briefly scrutinized them. Who were they? His instincts sensed something important, but he couldn't quite place what it was.

They didn't notice him at first, but soon the girl looked up and met his gaze. Her eyes reflected fleeting curiosity, perhaps even a hint of interest. Alastar's gaze remained calm and neutral. She was beautiful, but this didn't evoke any particular emotions from him. The girl's parents, preoccupied with unloading their things, initially missed his presence but, upon meeting his gaze, stared back at him.

No words were exchanged between them. Only a brief exchange of glances. Alastar gave a slow nod, as if greeting them from a distance, and continued towards his home. Something familiar stirred within him—his instincts whispered that his new neighbors were not entirely ordinary. He didn't know their faces, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter wouldn't go unnoticed.

Closing the door behind him, Alastar paused for a moment. The past was always close. But tomorrow was a new day. Perhaps this time, life in Beacon Hills would bring some change to his long existence. With these thoughts, he went to bed, slowly drifting into the realm of Morpheus.