Rain dripped from the roof as Aria stepped back into the house, Ember’s warmth still clinging to her hand even though Ember was gone. Her mother glanced up from the kitchen, her eyes narrowing as she wiped her hands on a towel.“Aria Moon, where have you been?”Damien leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, tension in his shoulders. His eyes, so much like their father’s, flicked over her, searching for answers.Aria opened her mouth, closing it again, the weight of the red thread Ember had given her still heavy in her pocket.“Just needed some air,” she said softly.Damien’s jaw tightened. “At this hour? In the rain?”Her mother stepped forward, cupping Aria’s cheek, feeling for fever. “You’re freezing. Go take a hot bath, okay? We’ll talk after.”Aria nodded, relief and guilt tangling in her chest as she slipped past them, climbing the stairs to her room. She shut the door, leaning against it, the breath she had been holding finally escaping in a shaky exhale.She turned the lock, p
Aria lay sprawled on the couch, the hum of rain against the windows blending with the soft laughter of her mother and brother in the kitchen. The house smelled of warm spices, wet earth, and that subtle scent of safety she’d almost begun to trust. But beneath the quiet, something pulsed in her blood. A restless tension. A warning. She didn’t know when she fell asleep, only that she woke to a creak of the porch, the hush of rain, and a presence—steady, burning, impossible to ignore. Ember stood there. Rain clung to her braids, dripping down her face like tears she would never let herself cry. Her dark eyes locked on Aria, quiet urgency in their depths. Aria blinked, pushing herself up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Ember?” “We need to go,” Ember said softly, stepping into the room like a shadow. “Now?” Aria glanced toward the kitchen where her mother’s voice was still humming, her brother’s laugh sharp and easy. Ember’s eyes flickered toward the sound, then back. “Now.” Ari
They still spoke of her in fragments Whispers in rogue camps. Quiet prayers in sacred caves smudged with lunar ash. Around fires where elder wolves told stories they weren’t supposed to tell. They called her the Moon Queen. The last blood heir of an ancient line. A she,wolf born of prophecy, fallen to betrayal. To them, she was a legend. To Ember, she was everything. Ember moved quietly through the forest, boots crushing frostbitten leaves, her breath ghosting in the cold. The horizon bled pale gold into the dark, dawn trying to break through heavy clouds. Eighteen years. Eighteen years since Ariya was murderd. Eighteen years since Ember failed the only soul who saw her as more than a weapon. She could still hear the scream that tore open the night. The silence that followed, a wound that never healed. Their pack. Shadow Fang wasn’t just a pack. It was a promise. Ariya built it from ashes and broken oaths, gathering wolves no one else wanted. witch born,
The dream came before dawn. A hallway of black stone, torches flickering blue fire against wet walls. Her footsteps echoed, barefoot on ancient marble, and somewhere beyond a voice was calling her name. Not “Aria.” But Ariya. Spoken like a prayer. Then came the scent of smoke. She turned the corner and saw her. A girl wrapped in flames, standing calmly in the center of the room, eyes glowing like dying stars. “You promised me,” the girl said, voice like cracking coals. Aria woke with a gasp, tangled in sweat, soaked sheets. Her pendant throbbed faintly against her collarbone. Something was shifting again. A memory trying to force its way free. By midmorning, the house was quiet. Damien had gone to his job at the mechanic’s garage, and her mother had left a note about grocery shopping in town. She could’ve gone to school. Could’ve made an appearance, pretended like her life wasn’t unraveling and rebuilding at the same time. But the forest called louder. She walked b
The clearing Kael led her to was quiet, too quiet. No wind. No birds. Just the dense breath of the forest, and the weight of what was about to begin. “Here,” he said simply, stepping aside. Aria looked around. The trees formed a perfect ring, like watchers encircling a sacred rite. The ground was padded with soft moss and layered pine needles. She could smell old magic in the soil. “This is where you trained me before, isn’t it?” she asked. Kael nodded. “You never liked starting over.” “I still don’t.” He gave a half-smile. “Then we won’t.” He stepped closer and looked her over—not with curiosity, but precision. Like a blade being inspected before battle. “You’re strong, Aria. You feel it. But strength without control is a wildfire.” She frowned. “And you’re the extinguisher?” He shook his head. “No. I’m the one who teaches you how to aim it.” She swallowed. “Then let’s begin.” The shift came easier now. Her body remembered before her mind caught up, bones sliding into
The rain came down in lazy drops, soft against the window glass. Aria lay still in bed, watching the light shift through the curtains. She hadn’t gone to school in four days. Her uniform hung untouched behind the door. Her textbooks remained buried under a growing pile of notes, drawings, and half-remembered symbols she’d been scribbling since the vision. Somewhere downstairs, her mother was cooking. Eggs, probably. Toast. She’d stopped asking Aria if she was okay. Now, she just hovered, uncertain, like approaching her daughter might cause something fragile to snap. Damien, on the other hand, didn’t ask at all. He watched. And that unnerved her more. “Are you planning to fail the term?” her mother asked gently as Aria slid into the kitchen. Her tone wasn’t sharp, but there was something brittle behind it, an edge wrapped in concern. Aria shrugged, avoiding her mother’s eyes. “I’ve just been... tired.” “You look tired.” Her mother passed her a cup of tea. “You also look like s