Chapter thirty five: unknown ghost

Freya's pov 

I thought I was dead. The last thing I remembered was crawling through a crack in the earth, chasing the sound of Finnick’s howl like it was the last star in a black sky. I didn’t think I’d reach it. I didn’t think I’d come back.

But I did and now I was lying in a field of ash.

It was soft beneath me, warm like shrug, gleaming faintly with silver light. The moon swayed low in the sky, swollen and hard, dumping a strange stillness over everything. The trees around the clearing were twisted but beautiful, their branches glittering with frost and fireflies.

For a moment, I just breathed. My body ached. My ribs felt bruised. My paws were burned and blackened from whatever realm I’d just clawed my way out of.

But I was alive and more than that—I was whole.

I reached toward my chest, fingers brushing the place where the bond used to be. I didn’t expect to feel anything.

But there it was a mark.

Not just a scar, not just magic. It was a symbol, glowing faintly beneath my skin. Not Veyrix’s sigil. Not the jagged god-claw I’d seen on the tree. Something else.

A crescent moon… entwined with a flame. I stared at it, heart pounding.

What did it mean? And why didn’t it feel like pain?

“Welcome back, Nightfang.”

The voice made me jolt. I spun around, claws out, ready to fight.

Then I froze.

There—standing just beyond the ring of ash—was her.

Dark fur. Sharp eyes. A long scar down her side I knew too well. It was my mother. But she was dead.

I had buried her with my own paws. My breath caught. My knees nearly buckled.

“No,” I whispered. “You’re not real.” She stepped forward, slow and calm.

“I’m not alive,” she said gently. “But I am real.”

My chest burned. “How…?”

“This place,” she said, motioning to the glowing ash, “is a thread between worlds. Life and death. Spirit and flesh. The fact that you’re here means you’ve walked too close to both.”

Tears filled my eyes. “I missed you.” She smiled—sad, soft.

“And I’ve been with you. Every step. Even when you felt alone.”

I lowered my claws. My heart still raced, but I didn’t feel fear. Just grief. Just love.

“I failed,” I whispered. “I let him in.”

“No,” she said. “You fought and you went into the dark. You broke the chain.”

“But the bond—Finnick—” My voice broke. “I lost him.”

Her face darkened slightly. “Not lost. Not yet. But damaged.”

I collapsed into the ash, shaking. “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know who I am anymore. I saw myself in the mirror, and I—”

“You are still Freya,” she said, kneeling beside me. “You are still my daughter. Still the alpha this world needs.”

“But the god inside me—”

“Is part of you,” she said softly. “And always has been.”

I looked up at her, horrified.

“No.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “The Nightfang line was built on more than blood. It was built on sacrifice. On choice. You are not cursed, Freya. You are chosen. And what you do next will decide what kind of god you become.”

I stared at the mark on my chest. It pulsed once, gently.

A beat__a choice.

My voice trembled. “I don’t want to be a god.”

“Then don’t,” she said. “Be a wolf. Be you.But never forget what power runs in your veins. You can use it… or let it use you.”

She rose.

The wind began to pick up, swirling the ash in slow circles.

“I have to go now.”

“No!” I cried out. “Please—just a little longer—”

But she shook her head.

“You have work to do. He’s still calling for you. And the war is not waiting.”

“Will I see you again?” I whispered.

She smiled.

“When the moon sings your name, child… you’ll know I’m listening.”

And then she was gone, Just like smoke__ like memory.

I stood there, alone in the field, the wind cold against my fur. Then another sound. Not a voice this time.

A scent.

Finnick, Fresh, Close. My head snapped toward the trees and then I saw him.

He stepped through the branches slowly, eyes wide with disbelief. We just stared at each other.

He looked rough. Covered in dirt, blood on his muzzle, like he’d run through hell to find me.

I wanted to run to him. But I didn’t move. Because in his eyes, I didn’t just see love.

I saw fear.

Finnick takes a step forward… then stops—his voice low, shaking: “What are you?”