Chapter 2

Everything was sound and light.

Then it was nothing.

For a heartbeat—or maybe a century—I floated in blackness. Voices hummed somewhere far away, words stretched and twisted, like echoes underwater. A roar. The creature’s eyes, a molten amber glare cutting through smoke. Then heat—blinding, liquid heat—rushed through me and split into a thousand silver veins of fire.

I remembered the earth trembling.

The scream that might have been mine.

And the way the light burst from my hands like the moon had cracked open inside me.

The next thing I knew, I was falling. Not through air but through something thicker, slower. Every memory dragged like syrup. I saw Kael’s face for a flash—shock painted over fury—then it melted into shadow. The creature lunged at me again, jaws open, and the world fractured.

A voice whispered inside my head, low and ancient: Wake up, daughter of the broken moon.

My eyes snapped open.

The forest was silent. Too silent.

Ash floated through the air, catching what little moonlight bled through the trees. I lay on damp soil, the taste of iron on my tongue. My body ached like I’d been torn apart and stitched back together wrong. Every breath scraped my lungs.

For a long moment, I couldn’t move. Then the smell hit me—burned wood, wet earth, and something electric. I looked down. The ground around me was scorched in a perfect circle, the grass blackened to ash.

“What… happened?” My voice was a rasp.

The last thing I remembered was the light. My power.

I pushed myself up, wincing. The air felt charged, like a storm waiting to break. When I flexed my fingers, faint silver sparks flickered beneath my skin. My heart stuttered.

That shouldn’t be possible. No wolf could hold that kind of energy—not even an Alpha.

My mind reeled, flashes of memory stabbing through the haze. The creature—the size of a horse, fur black as void, eyes burning gold. The moment our gazes met, I’d felt it: not pure hatred but recognition. Like it knew me.

And now, it was gone.

I staggered to my feet. Every sound felt amplified: the creak of branches, the faint drip of rain from the canopy, the distant thud of my own heartbeat. The pack grounds were nowhere in sight. Just endless trees, ancient and dark.

For the first time in my life, I couldn’t feel the pack bond humming at the back of my mind. The connection was gone.

“I’m alone,” I whispered. The words vanished into the night.

Fear coiled in my gut—but underneath it, something else stirred. A strange calm, sharp and cold. I had always been the weakest link, the girl the pack kicked around. But now, with the bond gone, the noise quiet, I felt… free. Terrifyingly free.

Then the air shifted.

A rustle behind me. Instinct kicked in. I spun around, crouched low, claws sliding out before I realized what I was doing. My wolf was close to the surface, restless, her growl vibrating in my chest.

Nothing but shadows.

Still, every hair on my body stood on end.

I exhaled slowly and started walking. The forest stretched endlessly, mist curling between trees like ghostly fingers. My senses stretched farther than they ever had—every heartbeat, every tremor in the ground whispered to me.

The new power felt alive. Like it wasn’t just mine, but something ancient running through me.

Hours—or minutes—passed before I stumbled upon a stream. I knelt beside it, the cold water biting at my skin. My reflection rippled back: pale face streaked with dirt, silver light bleeding faintly from my irises.

“What are you turning me into?” I murmured to the reflection.

A whisper stirred the leaves: What you were meant to be.

I jerked upright. “Who’s there?”

Silence. Then another whisper, closer, threaded with a low hum: Not yet.

A chill ran down my spine. My wolf prowled beneath my skin, uneasy.

I turned to run—and froze.

Etched into the dirt behind me were claw marks, too large for any wolf I knew. Each groove shimmered faintly, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.

I stumbled back, the air around me thickening, pressing against my lungs. The forest lights dimmed. Then, from deep within the shadows, came a low growl—not the creature’s, not anything familiar, but something impossibly old.

I backed toward the stream, my power sparking uncontrolled. The silver glow spread from my hands to my arms, threads of light winding up like vines. The growl grew louder.

My pulse hammered. I wanted to run, but something inside me refused to move. The same part that had burned through Kael’s rejection, the same part that had screamed for freedom.

The darkness shifted.

Two eyes appeared in the trees—pale as frost, unblinking.

“Show yourself,” I demanded, though my voice shook.

A figure stepped forward, tall and cloaked, the air bending faintly around them. Not wolf. Not human. The scent hit me then—ancient magic, moon-drenched and wild.

The figure stopped at the edge of the clearing. “So, the lost bloodline awakens,” they said, voice smooth, almost amused.

“Who are you?” I asked.

They tilted their head, and for an instant, the moonlight caught their face—sharp features, a glint of silver tattoos curling along their jaw.

“I am the reason you’re still alive,” they said quietly. “And the one who will teach you what you are.”

Before I could speak again, the ground trembled. A flash of gold eyes ignited behind the figure—the creature’s snarl ripping through the night. The stranger turned toward it, a hand lifting, light coiling around their fingers.

“Run, Aria,” they said without looking back.

Then everything exploded into silver fire.