CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE WOLF THAT REMEMBERED

Aria dreamed of fire.

Not the kind that consumed houses or blackened forests, but a strange silver flame that danced across the sky without burning anything it touched.

She stood in the middle of an enormous clearing.

Wolves surrounded her.

Hundreds of them.

Some were ordinary brown and black wolves, while others had coats so pale they seemed to glow beneath the moonlight.

All of them were kneeling.

Aria looked down at herself.

She wore a long white dress, and a silver symbol shimmered against her wrist.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

A woman stepped out of the crowd.

She was tall, with long silver hair and eyes that looked strangely familiar.

Aria tried to see her face clearly, but the features kept shifting like reflections on disturbed water.

The woman reached toward her.

"My child."

Aria's breath caught.

"Who are you?"

The woman smiled sadly.

"You have forgotten so much."

"Tell me who you are!"

The woman's expression changed.

Behind her, the wolves began to growl.

Shadows moved between the trees.

Something was coming.

Something terrible.

The woman grabbed Aria's hands.

"Listen carefully. Never allow them to turn your gift into a weapon against your own heart."

"What gift?"

The silver flames grew brighter.

The woman leaned closer.

"Your blood remembers what your mind cannot."

A deafening howl split the air.

The woman vanished.

Aria screamed.

And woke with a sharp gasp.

She sat upright in bed, her breathing ragged.

Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains.

For several seconds, she couldn't remember where she was.

Then the images returned.

The wolves.

The silver flames.

The mysterious woman.

Aria looked down at her wrist.

A faint silver mark shimmered beneath her skin.

She rubbed it with her thumb.

It disappeared.

"No," she whispered.

She climbed out of bed and hurried to the mirror.

Her reflection looked normal.

Her eyes were their usual color.

Her skin bore no visible markings.

Yet the memory of the dream remained so vivid that she could almost smell the forest.

She pressed a hand against her chest.

"Who am I?"

Her wolf stirred.

Remember.

Aria shut her eyes.

"How? How am I supposed to remember something I don't even know?"

For the first time, her wolf answered with something more than a single word.

Find the beginning.

Aria opened her eyes.

"The beginning of what?"

But the voice fell silent.

Later that morning, Aria found Kael waiting outside the guesthouse.

She stopped immediately.

"What are you doing here?"

He stood beside a black vehicle, holding a paper bag.

"I brought breakfast."

She stared at him.

"Breakfast?"

"Mrs. Hart mentioned that you sometimes forget to eat when you're upset."

Aria's expression softened despite herself.

Then she caught the look on his face.

"Did you ask Mrs. Hart to tell you that?"

"No. I asked whether she knew what kind of food you liked. She mentioned it herself."

Aria studied him suspiciously.

"And you thought bringing breakfast would make me happy?"

"I thought you might be hungry."

For a moment, she didn't know how to respond.

The old Kael would never have bothered to learn whether she had eaten. He had been so consumed by his own responsibilities that he barely noticed when she went an entire day without a proper meal.

She took the bag.

"Thank you."

The words came out quietly.

Kael nodded.

He didn't smile triumphantly or act as though her gratitude meant she had forgiven him.

He simply stepped aside.

Aria found that unexpectedly comforting.

"Did you discover anything?" she asked.

"Some things."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Yes."

He handed her a folder.

Inside were copies of old records, several photographs, and a map marked with locations throughout the northern territories.

Aria examined the first page.

Most of the writing was difficult to understand, but one phrase appeared repeatedly.

The Silver Bloodline.

"What is this?" she asked.

"An ancient family that disappeared from the official records generations ago. According to the documents, members of the bloodline possessed unusual abilities connected to the werewolf bond."

Aria looked up.

"Connected how?"

"Some accounts describe wolves who could sense the emotions of others. Others mention the ability to heal injuries, communicate across long distances, and influence the strength of a pack's collective bond."

She stared at the pages.

"That sounds impossible."

"Some of the records are probably exaggerated. But the people who wrote them clearly believed the bloodline existed."

Aria turned another page.

A symbol caught her attention.

It was the same silver mark she had seen in her dream.

Her fingers trembled.

"I've seen this before."

Kael immediately looked at her.

"Where?"

"In a dream."

She described the clearing, the kneeling wolves, and the mysterious woman.

As she spoke, Kael's expression grew increasingly serious.

When she finished, he took the folder from her and examined the symbol.

"This mark appears in several records associated with the Silver Bloodline."

Aria stepped back.

"So the woman in my dream could be connected to this family?"

"It's possible."

"And what does that make me?"

Kael looked at her.

"Someone who deserves to know the truth."

For a moment, the words silenced every fear inside her.

Then she remembered who was speaking.

"Even if the truth means I'm dangerous?"

"Even then."

She searched his face for hesitation.

There was none.

"I don't know if I can trust you," she admitted.

Kael lowered his gaze.

"I know."

"But I need answers."

"Then we'll look for them."

Aria nodded slowly.

"There's something else."

"What?"

"I want to learn how to control whatever happened in the bakery."

Kael's expression changed.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I'm frightened. But I'm more frightened of hurting someone because I don't understand myself."

He considered her words.

"There may be someone who can help."

"Who?"

"An old healer who lives beyond the northern forest. My father consulted him when he was investigating the Silver Bloodline."

Aria folded her arms.

"Does he know about me?"

"I don't know."

"Then we'll ask him."

Kael blinked.

"We?"

"If this concerns my family, I'm going with you."

He nodded.

"All right."

"And don't mistake this for forgiveness."

"I won't."

She held his gaze for another moment.

Then she turned toward the guesthouse.

"I need to tell Mrs. Hart where I'm going."

Kael watched her leave.

She was still angry with him.

She still didn't trust him.

But she had agreed to let him help.

For now, that was enough.

Deep within the northern forest, an old man stood before a stone altar.

He was dressed in dark robes, and a silver pendant hung from his neck.

Before him lay an ancient book bound in black leather.

Its pages had remained untouched for decades.

Until that morning.

The book had opened by itself.

A single page glowed faintly beneath the dim light.

The old man stared at the symbol etched into the parchment.

The Silver Bloodline had awakened.

He closed his eyes.

"So," he whispered. "The child has finally begun to remember."

A shadow moved behind him.

"Should we inform the Council?"

The old man remained silent for several seconds.

Then he shook his head.

"Not yet."

"But if she discovers who she is—"

"She will."

He turned toward the window.

Far beyond the trees, the sky was darkening.

"And when she does, the entire world will learn what happens when you mistake a sleeping power for a dead one."