Chapter 2

Sleep was never easy for me, but that night it was worse. My dreams dragged me back to Ironclaw. I was small again, my wrists burning with silver, the smell of scorched flesh thick in the air. My father’s voice echoed, deep and cruel.

“You will never be one of us. You are nothing. Useless.”

I jolted awake, chest heaving, sweat sticking to my skin. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The darkness pressed in, and I thought I was still there, still that weak child chained to the wall. But then I heard the soft breaths of my daughters beside me, and the fear shifted into something else.

It was early, the sky still gray, when I slipped out of bed and opened the cabin door. The air outside was sharp, filled with pine and damp earth. I wrapped my shawl tighter around me.

That was when I saw it.

Tracks.

Large paw prints stamped deep into the ground, circling near the cabin. Too big for strays. Too heavy. The edges were still sharp. They hadn’t been here long ago.

My stomach clenched as I crouched down, brushing the soil with my fingers. The weight of the steps told me enough. Ironclaw wolves. My past was catching up.

I straightened, forcing my legs to move, though my knees shook. My eyes darted around the tree line. The forest looked calm, but I knew better. Wolves didn’t leave tracks this close unless they wanted you to know.

I pushed back into the cabin and slid the lock into place, my hand trembling on the wood. For a moment, I leaned against the door, closing my eyes, trying to calm my breathing.

They had found us.

By the time the sun rose, I had to wear the mask of normal again. That was the only way to keep my daughters safe routine, calm, the act of living like nothing was wrong.

Arinya was already awake. That girl was always full of restless fire. She stood in the small clearing behind our cabin, her little feet spread, her fists raised. She was punching at the air, quick and sharp, her face serious.

“Like this, Mama,” she called when she saw me watching. She jabbed the air twice, then kicked clumsily. “One day I’ll fight the wolves. They won’t touch you or Lyssara. I’ll be the strongest.”

Her words should have warmed me, but they twisted like a blade instead. I walked closer, shaking my head. “Arinya, fighting is not the answer. You don’t need to be stronger than anyone.”

She frowned, lips pressed stubbornly. “But I want to. I feel it, Mama. Like something inside me is waiting to come out.” Something a 5 years old shouldn’t be saying

My heart skipped. I knew what she meant, though she didn’t. Her wolf was stirring, too early, too raw. That scared me more than anything.

Inside, Lyssara sat quietly at the table, her head bent over scraps of paper. She wasn’t like her sister, her strength was different, quieter. She had filled the paper with shapes. Circles, lines, strange symbols. They didn’t look like the drawings of a child. They looked… old.

“Where did you learn this?” I asked, leaning over her shoulder.

She didn’t look up. “It just comes to me. Like I’ve seen them before.”

I picked up one page, my chest tightening. One of the symbols tugged at a buried memory, something I had once seen long ago in Ironclaw.

The image pulled me back into another time.

I was fifteen, thin and bruised, moving through shadows where I didn’t belong. The Ironclaw library was forbidden to me, but I had slipped in anyway, my heart racing. Dust clung to the shelves, and the air smelled of parchment and secrets.

My eyes had landed on a scroll hidden in a cracked chest. I unrolled it, fingers shaking, desperate to find something that explained why I was different. Why wouldn't my wolf come?

The words were burned into me even now:

“A child born of shadow and light, carrying the fire of many, will rise to break chains bound by blood.”

I had not understood it then. I told myself it was just a story, just a warning meant for someone else. But standing in my cabin years later, looking at Lyssara’s strange symbols, I felt the weight of it pressing into my chest.

Could it be her? Could it be them?

I forced the thought away. Prophecies only brought ruin. And I couldn’t let ruin find us.

I had no choice but to continue the day as if nothing was wrong. Fear couldn’t feed my daughters. So I gathered them, and we walked to the market.

The market square was alive with chatter, vendors shouting prices, the smell of bread and herbs filling the air. For a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost safe.

But the words I overheard cut that illusion apart.

“Did you hear? Wolves near the border.”

“Tracks as big as any I’ve ever seen.”

“They say Ironclaw is moving closer.”

The words hit me like blows. I froze in the middle of the street, a loaf of bread in my hand, my ears ringing. My heart raced so hard I thought everyone around me could hear it.

Arinya tugged at my sleeve, asking for apples, her voice bright, unaware of the storm inside me. I forced my lips into a smile, paid the vendor, and hurried the girls away.

Every shadow in the market felt sharper. Every face felt like it was watching me.

I wanted to scream. To run. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

That evening, I cooked a thin soup with the little we had. The girls sat at the table. Arinya ate quickly, telling me how she would one day defeat wolves twice her size. Lyssara didn’t touch much of her food. She stared at the window, quiet, like she was listening to something I couldn’t hear.

After they went to bed, I sat by the fire, my arms wrapped around myself. Every creak of the wood made me flinch. Every brush of wind against the cabin walls felt like claws.

The forest outside seemed too quiet. Too still. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

And then it came.

A howl.

It tore through the night, long and deep, filled with power that rattled the walls. My blood turned cold. This was no stray. This was an Alpha’s call.

My legs carried me to the bed in an instant. I pulled my daughters close, clutching them so tight they stirred in their sleep.

Arinya murmured, fists curled even in dreams. Lyssara shifted, her lips moving with words I couldn’t understand, words that didn’t belong to her.

Tears burned my eyes as I whispered into the dark, my voice breaking. “He’s here.”

The walls of the cabin felt thinner than ever. The night was heavy. And I knew Heavenbrook would not keep us safe much longer.