Hana

Hana's POV

 

Bella tapped her wine glass against the marble counter, swirling the red wine before taking a slow sip. She looked at me over the rim, her green eyes sharp and full of mischief.

“So, you ran into an alpha, not Crescent Moon, not anyone local. Leather boots, serious power, and you said he smelled, what, amazing?”

I groaned. “I never said 'amazing,' just maybe good-looking. But that’s not the point. He was an alpha wolf, Bella! I’ve barely ever seen wolves, and suddenly, one shows up like a fairytale.”

Bella raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter. The candlelight from the stove made her copper hair glow. Her kitchen felt like a mix between an apothecary and a home. Dried lavender and rosemary hung from the beams, jars of herbs lined the shelves, and the air always smelled a bit like sage. It was always comforting and a little mysterious here.

Bella set her glass down. “I don’t see you for two weeks, and suddenly your grandmother's got you on errands and you’re running into dangerously attractive alphas. Admit it, Hana. You can’t stop thinking of him.” She grinned, voice dropping. “You need to have sex.”

I nearly choked on my tea, face flushing. “Gods, Bella—” I coughed, fanning my cheeks. “That’s your big idea?”

Her grin stretched even wider as she raised her glass in silent victory.

Rolling my eyes, I slumped back. “You know why that’s impossible. Grandma made it clear: no sex until she picks a mate. It’s about keeping my magic pure.”

Bella snorted, nearly spilling her wine. “That is the dumbest rule I’ve ever heard.”

I threw my hands up. “Exactly! Dumbest rule ever, if you ask me.”

Bella pointed. “You say 'maybe good-looking' like a starving woman eyeing cake.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I’m not starving.”

“You are,” she said, sipping her wine. “And your wolf-cake sounded delicious.”

I groaned and shoved my chair back, ignoring her laughter. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re in denial,” she winked. “But when you cave and jump him, I’ll brew you my best stamina potion.”

“Goodbye, Bella.” I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, slipping it on as she cackled like she’d just cursed me with eternal embarrassment.

The night air was cool as I left Bella’s apartment, her teasing still ringing in my ears. The Shadowlands never really slept, but it was quieter than the noisy wolf cities. Life and magic moved here in a gentle, steady way.

Streetlamps glowed with soft amber light, and if you looked closely, each flame seemed to open and close like a flower petal. Potted herbs hung from balconies, some giving off little sparks of magic, others swaying even though there was no wind. Across the street, a bakery’s sign sparkled with magic, the words Moonrise Bread fading in and out in cursive. The smell of cardamom and sugar lingered in the air, even this late.

This was home. It might seem strange to others, but to me, it was the heartbeat of normal. Even the humans found comfort here, their streets glowing with runes and music spilling from open windows.

I slowed down as I passed a shop window glowing with a faint blue light. Inside, shelves were stacked with jars of dried herbs, each labeled in curling script that seemed to change for whoever read it. The glass showed my face, pale and tense in the lamp’s glow. For a second, I thought I saw something else over my features, eyes that weren’t mine, shadows curling like smoke around my skin. My breath caught, panic flickering in my chest. I blinked, and it was gone.

I shook off the thought and slipped down the narrow lane toward my car. The streets whispered with quiet magic, subtle but ever-present. My boots echoed on the damp stone, and the lavender from the window boxes wrapped around me like a gentle memory.

I was almost to my door when the world tilted.

Suddenly, the world around me began to blur. The warm lamplight streaked into silver, and my lungs tightened; the air turned thick, like honey. I reached out to steady myself against the car, but instead of cold metal, my fingers sank into a spreading shadow. This wasn't real, I was slipping into a vision.

And then I saw it.

Within the vision, the sky above split open with a soundless crack, spilling red light like blood across the Shadowlands. Wolves poured from it, their eyes burning gold, their howls shaking the ground. Fire raced along the streets, devouring herbs, glass, steel, flesh. A silver crown lay twisted in the dirt, soaked in ash and blood.

In the center of it all stood a man, the man from the bar. He stood broad-shouldered, eyes like molten amber, blood on his hands. His gaze snapped to mine, piercing through the vision as if he knew I was there.

Mine. The word wasn’t spoken, but it echoed inside me all the same, low and dangerous.

With a jolt, I snapped out of the vision, stumbling back and clutching my chest. The fragments of what I saw fractured and then vanished, leaving me alone in the quiet street, surrounded once more by gentle lamplight and distant laughter.

My heart thundered so fiercely I thought it would burst, every breath scraping sharp and ragged in my chest. My whole body trembled; my nerves were jumping under my skin.

What the hell was that?

I looked at my trembling hands, still half-expecting to see blood on them. But there was nothing, just the faint shimmer of my magic, restless and humming under my skin.

Who is this wolf? Fear twisted through me as I fumbled into my car, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I tried to steady myself against the weight of what I’d just seen.

Though something screamed at me, clawing at my mind, saying mine. The possessive echo made my skin crawl. What I just saw made him more like an enemy than a future lover.

It seems like my grandma was right once again: do not trust a wolf. This alpha will bring more harm to my life than good.

I can only pray to Erza that we will not cross paths again.