02- The Afterburn (Part 01)

“It didn’t end when he walked away. That’s when it began.”

⸻

Pain wasn't supposed to feel like this.

I'd heard stories of heartbreak before — wolves who lost their mates to war or betrayal. They said the pain was sharp, fast, like a wound that would eventually scar.

But this wasn't a scar.

It was a fire that wouldn't go out.

Hour after hour, it burned through me, consuming every thought, every breath. The heat of it seemed to melt my very bones, leaving me formless, shapeless in its wake. I'd always imagined heartbreak as something cold—an absence, a void. This was the opposite. This was too much feeling, too much sensation, like every nerve ending in my body had been exposed and set aflame.

My room was dark when I opened my eyes, though I didn't remember closing them. The only light came from the sliver of moon through the cracked windowpane above my bed. The same moon that had witnessed my ruin. Its silver glow seemed almost accusing now, as though it too judged me for my failure to be worthy.

I didn't remember coming home.

I didn't remember the walk from the circle, the faces, the laughter, the shock. Everything after Kael's rejection was a blur of heat and static — like my body had moved on instinct, hollow and numb. Had I shifted? Run? Walked with what dignity I could muster? The memory existed only in fragments—flashes of forest floor beneath my feet, the distant howl of wolves continuing the ceremony without me, the cold air burning my lungs as I gasped for breath.

Now, here I was.

Lying in the bed that always felt too small, in the healer's quarters that weren't even officially mine. The pack had allocated this tiny room to me years ago, not out of kindness but necessity. Every pack needed a healer, even one as untrained as me. The space was barely large enough for the narrow bed and a small table that served as both desk and dining area. The walls were bare stone, perpetually damp no matter how many drying herbs I hung. The fireplace was too small to properly heat the space, and the chimney had a crack that let in rain during storms.

It wasn't home. It was just where I existed.

I was wrapped in a threadbare blanket that couldn't protect me from the cold — or the memory of what he'd said.

"You're not worthy."

The words echoed like a curse.

Not just spoken but branded onto me, seared into my identity. Three words that confirmed everything I'd spent my life trying to disprove—that I was nothing. Less than nothing. A mistake. A burden. An omega who should have disappeared into the wilderness years ago rather than cling to the edges of a pack that barely tolerated her presence.

I stared at the ceiling, unmoving, not even blinking. If I moved, I'd feel it again. The ache in my chest. The coil of pain in my belly. The sharp emptiness in my soul where a bond had once flickered — briefly, beautifully — before it was ripped out by the roots.

My wolf whimpered inside me, curled into herself like a wounded animal. She, who had always been my strength, my courage when I had none, now seemed as broken as I was. She had recognized him instantly—our mate, our other half. The recognition had been pure, instinctual, and utterly certain. And then, in the same moment, came the rejection. To have something so fundamental denied... it was like being told gravity no longer applied to me. Like being cast adrift in a universe where none of the laws I understood had meaning anymore.

I could still smell him.

Smoke. Pine. Leather. Steel. Power.

The scent lingered in my nostrils, imprinted on my memory now. I would know it anywhere—across a crowded room, through a dense forest, even years from now. My body had memorized him in that single moment of connection, cataloging every detail for a future that would never come.

I pressed my hand to my chest. The skin there throbbed. It wasn't bruised, but it felt like it should be. Like something had broken — not bone, not flesh… but something deeper.

Something sacred.

There was supposed to be a ceremony after the matching—a formal acceptance of the bond, followed by days of private seclusion where new mates could become acquainted, where the bond could deepen and settle into their souls. Every wolf grew up learning about this sacred time, this precious beginning. Girls whispered about it, dreamed about it, speculated endlessly about what it would be like to be truly claimed by their destined mate.

I was his mate. And he rejected me like I was filth beneath his boot.

Before the entire pack. Without hesitation. Without even the courtesy of privacy. He had made sure everyone witnessed my humiliation, my worthlessness confirmed by the most powerful wolf in our territory.

A shaky breath escaped me, followed by another. My throat ached from the screaming I hadn't done. My eyes burned from the tears I refused to shed. Crying wouldn't help. Nothing would help. This wasn't a problem that could be solved, a situation that could be fixed. This was just... reality. My reality.

And then, it happened again.

That same flicker.

A spark beneath my ribs, like a second heartbeat stuttering awake. Not painful. Not entirely pleasant either. Just… there.

It pulsed once, twice, gathering strength with each beat. A warm sensation spread outward from my chest, flowing through my veins like liquid moonlight. It wasn't the comfortable warmth of a fire on a cold night—this was something wilder, something that felt ancient and unfamiliar.

I sat up, dizzy.

The room spun around me, the shadows on the walls stretching and contracting as though alive. I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to steady myself, to silence the strange humming that had started in my ears.

Something wasn't right.

Not just emotionally — physically. My limbs tingled like I'd been shocked. My hands burned faintly. When I flexed my fingers, I saw it — barely.

A shimmer.

Thin, silver light dancing across my knuckles.

Not like moonlight reflected on skin. This came from within, pulsing in time with that second heartbeat. The light traced the pathways of my veins, illuminating them from beneath my skin. It reminded me of how the ceremonial fires had looked in the Moon Circle—not just bright, but somehow alive, responsive to something beyond physical laws.

I blinked.

It vanished.

But the sensation remained—a low-level vibration in my fingertips, like energy waiting to be released. My healer's intuition, usually so limited to sensing injuries and illness in others, turned inward, detecting changes I couldn't fully comprehend.

I rubbed my hands against my blanket, heart hammering.

What the hell was that?

I wasn't hallucinating. It had happened earlier too — once, as I stumbled through the woods on the way home. The trees around me had seemed to lean in, their branches reaching toward me as though drawn by some invisible force. Leaves that had fallen across my path stirred without wind. I thought it had been a trick of moonlight then, or my mind fracturing under stress. But this… this was real.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and winced as my bare feet touched the cold stone floor. The whole room tilted slightly. My body felt unfamiliar — too warm in some places, too cold in others. My breath fogged in the air, even though the fire was out and the night wasn't particularly cold for early autumn.

A shiver ran up my spine.

Something was wrong with me.

Or maybe… something was right.

And that was worse.

Because if this wasn't just grief—if this was something else, something with meaning or purpose—then I would have to face it. Understand it. Perhaps even use it. And I wasn't sure I had the strength for that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

My wolf stirred, her interest piqued by the strange energy coursing through us. Unlike me, she seemed curious rather than afraid. She pushed against the boundaries of my consciousness, urging me to explore this strange new sensation rather than retreat from it.

*What is it?* she seemed to ask. *What's happening to us?*

"I don't know," I whispered aloud, my voice startling in the silence of the room. "I don't know what this is."