5. The Dream That Bleeds

Rhea 

The moment I left that cabin, the cold bit deeper. The trees didn’t whisper this time—they watched. And somehow, I didn’t feel like prey anymore. I felt… marked. By the time I got back to Elara’s cottage, my legs were soaked, my hands trembling. I slammed the door shut and locked it like that would keep anything out. Anything like what I’d just seen.

Like him.

I peeled off my jacket, dropped it to the floor, and stared at myself in the cracked hallway mirror. My eyes didn’t look like mine anymore. Too wide. Too wild. Like something had burrowed beneath the surface and was waiting for the right moment to crawl out. I couldn’t sit still, so I pulled out Elara’s journal and opened it to a random page.

“There’s something beneath the woods. Something older than the trees, maybe even older than the town. I keep hearing it at night—breathing. Not close… but not far, either.”

I slammed the book shut. I was shaking. Not from cold. From knowing that maybe… just maybe… she hadn’t been crazy. I curled into her old blanket and tried to sleep, knowing full well that sleep never came easily in Ashwood. But this time—it did. Too easily. Darkness came like ink spilled across the sky, and I was standing in the forest.

Not dreaming—living something. The trees looked exactly as they had earlier, only fog rolled in thick like smoke, curling around my ankles. My breath came in puffs. The wind moaned. And ahead of me—*

“Elara.”

I saw her. Dressed in the white sweater I buried her in. Hair loose, face calm. She didn’t turn when I called her name. Just walked deeper into the woods like she didn’t hear me. “Elara, stop!” I followed closely. The air grew heavy. Metallic. Wrong. Suddenly, I heard it—a growl. Several, actually. Low. Guttural. Surrounding us.

“Elara—!” She turned just in time to see the first wolf leap from the mist. It tore into her without hesitation. She screamed—a sound I never thought I’d hear again. Not in this world. Blood sprayed across the snow. Her body thrashed, then stilled. I stood frozen. Useless. Just like I had the day they told me she was gone.

I wanted to move, scream, fight. But my legs wouldn’t listen. The rogue wolves circled her body, snarling, panting, their mouths dripping crimson. Then they paused… and fled, vanishing like shadows into mist. And I felt it. A shift. The forest grew still. A presence heavier than death itself filled the air.

I turned. And saw it. At the edge of the fog, half-shrouded in darkness, stood a creature too large to be real. A wolf. Twice the size of any I’d seen. Its eyes glowed red like molten iron.

It didn’t move. It didn’t have to. Its stare hollowed out something inside me. Something primal. It saw me. Not Elara. Me. And for the first time in my life… I knew what fear really was.

I woke up gasping. Sweat clung to my skin like frost. My chest heaved, lungs starving for air. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Ashwood. Elara’s cottage. Not the woods. Not the fog. Not—

I sat up with a strangled sound, shoving the blanket off me. My throat burned, my skin itched. The image of the red-eyed wolf was still carved behind my eyes. That… thing. Watching me. Judging me. Marking me. I stumbled to the bathroom and flicked on the light. The mirror confirmed it—my face was pale, my eyes rimmed red. I looked like I hadn’t slept in weeks.

But it had only been hours. Barely. And still… the dream clung to me like a second skin.

Was it even a dream? Something told me it wasn’t. I reached for Elara’s journal with shaking hands. The pages fluttered like they knew where I was headed. And then I saw it. One entry. Half a page. Scribbled like it had been written in a rush, maybe even in fear.

“The same dream again. I followed something through the woods. I thought it was Rhea at first, but it wasn’t. There were wolves. They were watching. Then they attacked. But after—there was one. Bigger. Standing in the fog. Red eyes. I couldn’t move. I don’t think it wanted me. I think it wanted her.”

I re-read the passage three times. She mentioned my name in her journal, which means she was watching me in her dreams, just like I watched her several times. She saw it too. Before she died. But why is it just the two of us watching the same dream? Why are the wolves and the rogues chasing us? Was it related to our bloodline or something specifically to us? 

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in. The windows darkened. My breath fogged the glass even though the heater hummed quietly in the background. And suddenly, I felt it again. Not fear but a presence. A shadow that haunted me for a long time. 

Like something was outside. Watching and waiting the same way the red-eyed wolf had in the dream. I grabbed the journal before I clutched it closer to my chest and stepped toward the window slowly, silently. The curtains barely parted.

A single crow sat on the fence post. Still. Watching the house. I blinked. It blinked back—and flew off. The silence it left behind was worse.

I turned away. But a single word drifted into my mind like a whisper not my own.

“Threshold.”

I didn’t know where it came from. Or why it made my heart pound again. But I knew one thing that this wasn’t just about Elara. This was also about me, or just about me. Something was waking up. Inside this town. Inside me.

And whatever it was… It already knew my name. I hadn’t even pulled myself together when the knock came. Three sharp taps. For a second, I froze—half expecting claws instead of knuckles. But when I opened the door, it was Violet. Same dark eyes. Same quiet smile. Her black jacket hugged her slim frame like armor.

"You look like hell," she said, brushing past me. “Thanks,” I muttered. “You always know how to lift a girl’s spirits.” She tossed a glance over her shoulder. “You okay?” 

“Yes.”

No. I lied.  She didn’t push. Just held up a paper bag. “Thought you might need some air… and coffee.” The next twenty minutes passed in a blur. She drove her little beat-up Jeep toward the town square, talking softly about nothing—flowers blooming too early, how the bakery’s pumpkin rolls were already sold out, a stray dog she saw limping near the church.

I barely listened. My mind was still in the dream, and every time I blinked, I saw red eyes in the dark. But when we turned onto the main road that sliced through Ashwood’s forest edge, I sat up straighter. A black 4x4 off-roader tore down the gravel ahead, dust swirling behind it.

It stopped just ahead of us—sleek, menacing, and entirely too familiar. Kael stepped out.

Black shirt. Scars peeking from his neckline. Calm but intense—like he’d fought a war this morning and still had time for coffee. “You two shouldn’t be driving around the outskirts today,” he said, leaning down into our window.

“Funny, you’re doing exactly that,” Violet replied coolly, raising an eyebrow. Kael didn’t look at her. His eyes were on me, and I felt my skin crawl with his sharp and intense gaze. “You slept?”

“Barely,” I muttered. “I need to show you both something,” he said. We followed his truck deeper into the woods. Violet was quiet, which meant she was worried. She kept stealing glances at her phone until it buzzed. She answered in a whisper. “Yes, Grandmistress?” I couldn’t hear what the other voice said—but Violet’s face paled slightly. She ended the call quickly.

“What was that?” I asked. “Nothing you need to worry about,” she replied with a tight smile. “Not yet.” We parked near the threshold—Elara’s marked path—and walked until Kael stopped in front of a massive ash tree.

At its center, half-hidden under old bark and moss, a crimson spiral had been carved. I stepped forward. “This… This was in my dream.” I stuttered, my eyes widened. 

Kael looked at me. “It’s real. And it’s not just a mark. It’s a warning.” Violet ran her fingers along it. “The Crimson Sigil. Old magic. Very old.” But before I could ask anything else—

A deep, mocking voice cut through the silence.

“Dreeeeengerrr.”

We spun. Three figures emerged from the trees.

Varek.

Fenrak.

Alder.

Even without the glowing eyes or snarls, I knew what they were. Knew it in my bones. Varek smiled—sharp and cold. “Kael. Still playing the noble Alpha, I see.” Kael stepped in front of me instinctively. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” Varek said. “You just keep standing in the way.” Violet moved in front of me, gently pushing me behind her. Her voice dropped low. “Stay close. Don’t run. No matter what you see.” Fenrak’s eyes were locked on me. So were Alder’s.

Alder chuckled, stepping closer. “Did you bring us breakfast, Kael? That’s generous of you.”

“Touch her,” Kael growled, “and I’ll rip your lungs out.” I felt a strange feeling at the pit of my stomach, the kind of feeling which you only get in romance movies. It almost sounded like Kael is so protective of me, someone is possessive of me. Yet we had no such interaction yet, we haven’t been alone yet - or even kissed. 

Lightning tension. No room to breathe.

Then—

The forest exploded. Wolves—fur and fang and fury—launched forward. Growls turned to war cries. Kael shifted mid-leap, silver fur bursting through skin. I screamed as chaos erupted around us. And just before Violet threw her arms wide, casting a shimmering wall of magic between me and the violence, I heard Varek roar, “This is only the beginning!”