Chapter 3

The light swallowed everything.

For a second, there was no forest, no air, no pain—only silver. Then the sound came, a rushing wind that roared like a thousand voices crying out at once. Heat pressed against my skin, a living thing trying to crawl inside me. I reached for the stranger, but my fingers met nothing but light.

When I opened my eyes again, the world had gone silent.

Smoke drifted where the blast had been, curling through the trees in lazy spirals. My body ached, every muscle trembling as if the power had burned straight through bone. I lay on my back staring at the canopy, shards of moonlight blinking between the branches. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if I was alive.

Then I heard him breathing.

The stranger was kneeling beside me, head bowed, the silver tattoos along his jaw glowing faintly. His cloak had burned away at the edges, revealing a shirt dark with soot. He looked untouched by panic, his expression still and unreadable.

“You stayed,” I whispered, my voice cracked and raw.

He turned his gaze on me—eyes pale, almost translucent. “You called the light again. It answered harder this time.”

“I didn’t call anything,” I said. My throat hurt. “It just… happened.”

He studied me for a long beat. “Power rarely asks permission.”

When I tried to sit up, pain lanced through my ribs. He moved instantly, a steady hand at my shoulder. The air around him felt strangely cool, like standing near running water.

“Easy,” he said. “The flare drained you.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, but my head swam. The ground beneath us was scorched to glass; the creature that had attacked us was gone. Only a faint claw mark remained in the earth, still steaming.

“Where is it?” I asked.

“Gone for now.” He looked toward the darkness beyond the clearing. “It will come again when it mends. They always do.”

“They?” I repeated.

He didn’t answer.

I let my gaze drift up to the sky. The moon hung huge and low, brighter than I’d ever seen it, haloed by a thin ring of silver mist. My heart beat slow and uneven, echoing the rhythm of that light.

“I should be dead,” I said quietly. “That thing should have torn me apart.”

“You would be, if the blood in you were ordinary.” His tone was matter-of-fact, almost gentle. “The blast you released was a ward older than this forest. It protects its bearer.”

“Ward?” I tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. “I didn’t even know I had claws until last night. Now you’re talking about wards.”

He tilted his head, considering me as though I were a puzzle. “You are learning faster than you think.”

For a moment we just sat in the fading smoke. Crickets began to sing again, hesitant and fragile. I felt the world returning by degrees—the chill air on my skin, the sting of cuts along my arms, the metallic taste of blood.

When I looked back at him, he was watching me in that unnervingly calm way. There was no pity there, no judgment—just quiet attention, as if every breath I took mattered.

“Who are you?” I asked finally.

He paused, then said, “You can call me Auren.”

“Auren.” I tested the name. It felt ancient, heavy. “You said you’d teach me. Teach me what?”

“To live with what you carry,” he said simply.

“And what exactly do I carry?”

He didn’t answer right away. He reached toward the ground instead, drawing a line through the soot with one finger. The line began to glow, faint and silver, forming a symbol—a crescent intersected by three dots.

“This mark,” he said, “belongs to a lineage thought extinct. A house that once served the Moon Throne before the wars scattered the packs. You are its last echo.”

I stared at the symbol, the light reflecting in my eyes. “You’re saying I’m some… lost royal?”

“I’m saying your blood remembers things your mind does not.”

The words landed heavy. I wanted to deny them, to call him insane, but deep inside, something responded—a pulse of recognition, the same one that had risen when Kael rejected me.

“The creature,” I murmured. “It knew me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He looked toward the darkness again. “Because it was made to find you.”

The air seemed to thin. “Made? By who?”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. “That answer will find you soon enough.”

We sat in silence. My thoughts circled the same questions until they blurred together. Then Auren reached out and touched the scorched ground beside me. Grass sprouted instantly, green and alive. The smell of burned earth faded.

“You did that?” I asked.

“The ward heals what it burns,” he said. “You will learn to guide it.”

I stared at the new grass pushing through soot. “And if I don’t want it?”

He met my gaze. “Want has little to do with destiny.”

Something in me rebelled at that—another voice, fierce and wounded. No one gets to decide for me anymore.

“I’m not anyone’s destiny,” I said.

Auren’s expression didn’t change, but a flicker of approval crossed his eyes. “Good. You’ll need that defiance.”

Wind brushed through the clearing, carrying the scent of rain. The forest around us began to glow faintly, silver light threading through the bark of trees. I realized the light came from me; wherever I looked, the world mirrored it back.

“I can feel everything,” I whispered. “Every root, every breath. It’s like the forest is alive.”

“It always was,” Auren said. “You just weren’t listening.”

He stood, offering me a hand. His fingers were steady, cool against my feverish skin. When I took them, a current passed between us—soft, but undeniable. Not the brutal pull I’d felt with Kael, something quieter, older.

“Come,” he said. “The night is not safe, even for you.”

I hesitated. “Where are we going?”

“To the edge of this realm.”

“That sounds… comforting,” I muttered.

He almost smiled. “You’ll learn comfort is a dangerous thing.”

We moved through the forest together, his stride sure, mine uncertain. The moonlight followed us, a pale river above the trees. Every so often I glanced at him, trying to read what lay beneath that calm. His face gave nothing away.

The farther we walked, the louder my heartbeat became, as though the forest itself was keeping rhythm. I wanted to ask more—how he’d found me, what he was, what he meant by realm—but exhaustion pressed too heavy.

After what felt like hours, the trees opened into a small glade. At its center stood a pool, the water dark and still. Auren stopped at the edge.

“This place will hide us,” he said. “Rest, but not too deeply. Dreams have teeth here.”

I knelt beside the pool, cupping water to my lips. It was cold, metallic, tinged with something sweet. My reflection wavered, split by ripples. For a heartbeat, I saw not myself but another face—a woman with eyes like stars, her expression fierce and sad.

I gasped and stumbled back. “Did you see that?”

Auren nodded once. “The blood remembers.”

The ground trembled faintly beneath our feet, a pulse rather than an earthquake. Auren looked toward the north, his eyes narrowing.

“They’ve found the trail,” he murmured.

“Who?”

“The ones who sent the creature.”

Fear flared hot in my chest. “What do they want with me?”

“Power,” he said simply. “Or the end of it.”

Lightning cracked far away, a silent flash that lit the horizon. The pool rippled, glowing from within. Auren stepped closer to me, his calm voice dropping to a whisper.

“When the next storm comes, you must choose whether to hide or to stand.”

“I don’t even know what I’m standing for,” I said.

“You will.” He looked at me then—not the calm guardian, but something almost human, weary and sad. “And when you do, the world will tremble again.”

A distant howl rolled through the night. Not a wolf’s. Something deeper, older.

Auren’s gaze snapped toward the sound. “They’re early.”

Before I could ask, the wind surged, cold and sharp, bending the trees. The pool boiled with light. A shadow broke the surface—tall, humanoid, eyes like liquid gold.

My pulse slammed against my ribs. “That’s—”

“The creature’s master,” Auren said. “Stay behind me.”

But the figure raised its head, and its voice cut through the storm like silk. “No, little moon. She stands for herself.”

The air cracked. Silver light leapt from my hands without my will. Auren reached for me, shouting something lost to the roar—

—and the world exploded again into blinding white.