Chapter 23

Alanza’s POV

“Are you... my wolf?”

The words felt clumsy and ridiculous coming out of my mouth, like I was asking my Siberian husky if she could pay the rent. Yet, as the heat flushed my skin, my legs starting to tremble, I squeezed Sombra’s sturdy fur. She was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly started to tilt. Her gaze, gleaming with an intelligence that went way past 'good dog,' held steady.

A hysterical little laugh popped out. “My wolf is a husky. How does this even happen?” I wheezed.

Sombra’s ears pressed flat against her skull. A low rumble came from her chest, a growl that wasn't loud but vibrated straight through my hand and into my bones. I am not a husky, her voice echoed in my head. The thought felt like a firm, unyielding shove.

My laughter died. I just stared at her, trying to match the voice in my head with the creature in front of me. “But... you look exactly like one.”

Appearances can be deceiving, my human. There was a hint of something like dry amusement in the way she held her head. I am a wolf, through and through. This form is just a vessel, a disguise to help me blend in with your kind.

I frowned, tracing the dark mask of fur around her eyes. “Nope. Still a husky.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” The question came out harsher than I meant it to, a quick shot of blame. If my wolf had shown up earlier, maybe my life wouldn't have been such a miserable grind. Maybe at the Gala, I wouldn’t have been...

Stop. No point wasting energy on things that were already set in stone.

Even so, I couldn’t help but glare at my dog.

Sombra just met my look, her eyes somehow ancient and impossible to read. You were not ready, she said simply. Your path was a long and difficult one, full of pain. You were young, and they held too much power over you.

I sucked in a sharp breath. The truth of her words hit me hard: the loneliness, the rejection, the constant fight to find a footing. The weight of all that past isolation pressed down, and I sagged against her, suddenly running on empty.

Sombra nudged my cheek, her fur warm against my face. Now, you can embrace your destiny, she murmured. You learned you were strong, but you are more than you know, my human. And I will be by your side, guiding you onto the path you were always meant to walk.

I stroked her thick fur, the connection between us a buzzing, undeniable thing. It felt like a solid wall, I realized now, sheltering me from the worst of the rejection pain. It was what had been keeping me together. But then something else cut through the comfort.

“Sombra,” I gasped, a fierce, white-hot pain shooting through my lower abdomen. “Why does this hurt?” I was on fire.

Strength comes with a roar, and weakness comes with a whimper, Sombra replied.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the sharp, sudden cramps. “That explains absolutely nothing,” I wheezed.

Sombra stood up and trotted a few paces away, then looked back. Get up, little cub. We have a long way to go.

I groaned, clutching my stomach. “Are you serious? I can’t move. I’m going to die here for a little while. Why did you take me so far from home?”

There is a place we need to be, she explained, a calm, steady patience in her tone. Come now.

I pushed myself to my feet with a sound that was half-hiss, half-whimper. I swayed, vision swimming. Each step was a torturous effort as the pain twisted and clawed inside me. Sweating, dizzy, it felt impossible. But Sombra's presence was a steady, urging pull that kept me moving forward.

The trees seemed to swallow us whole, the shadows getting thick and eerie. Sombra moved through the undergrowth with an impossible grace, a sleek movement that completely betrayed the fluffy, clumsy image of a husky.

Just when my legs were about to give out, the branches opened into a tiny clearing. I could see only a small patch of the night sky through the tree canopy.

I collapsed onto the soft, cool carpet of moss and fallen leaves. My whole body shook. The pain intensified, a pure, consuming agony. I curled into a ball, whimpering softly. Sombra settled close beside me, her body a source of solid heat.

“What’s happening to me?” I rasped, my voice tight and strained.

Sombra’s eyes caught the dim light, glowing faintly. You are becoming, she murmured.

I gritted my teeth, riding the relentless waves of agony. Every muscle, every fiber of my being, felt like it was being ripped apart and then forced back together. Sweat soaked my clothes, and my hair was plastered to my temples.

Focus on my voice, she commanded, her tone still gentle, still calm.

I obeyed. I clung to the sound of her voice, letting it anchor me as the rest of the world dissolved into a hazy swirl of pain. The stars overhead spun; the dark trees seemed to sway in a dizzying dance.

The agony reached its peak. A blinding, white-hot flash stole my breath. And then, in that moment, something inside me... shifted.

The pain started to fade. Recognizing the change, I burst upright. I held out my hands excitedly. Fur! Claws!

But no.

I was still me.

Chipped coral nail polish, a small, faded burn on my right index finger from rushing a dinner order, and skin that had finally gone from pale to a light, summery gold.

My shoulders slumped. “I didn’t shift.”

Of course not. How can you shift when I am not within you? Sombra tilted her head at me, a silent question in her eyes. Now, dig.