CHAPTER ONE: I FELT YOU

The she-wolf ran until her strength failed.

She collapsed beside a river just before dawn, the newborn still held carefully against her. Her body shifted back against her will. Exhausted and bleeding, she could do nothing but keep her arms around her son as darkness closed in.

The river moved quietly beneath the afternoon sun.

By the bank, Caro sat on a flat stone with her eyes closed, meditating, until a faint whimper broke her focus.

She opened her eyes. When another weak cry reached her, she rose and followed it through the undergrowth.

She found a naked woman lying on the ground and a newborn wrapped roughly beside her.

She checked the woman’s pulse, lifted the child carefully and transported them to her apartment. There she laid the pup in a lined basket and carried the woman into her bedroom.

The woman’s condition was worse than expected, Caro pressed her palms to her chest and pushed golden light into her. The body jerked, a ragged breath returned, and her heartbeat steadied.

When Caro lifted the newborn again, an unusual pulse of energy rose beneath his skin; ancient and powerful. She held a crystal above him and whispered a revealing spell.

White light bloomed inside the crystal until the room filled with moonlight.

Caro’s breath caught. This was no ordinary wolf pup.

She spent the next hour searching through her oldest books and journals, cross-checking symbols and bloodline records. When the texts still left gaps, she made two careful calls to witches she trusted. Both went quiet when she described the crystal’s reaction.

By the time she returned to the child, the answer was clear.

The Divine White Wolf.

A child spoken of in scattered prophecies and half-forgotten records, said to appear only once in five thousand years, carrying the rare gifts of healing and fertility. Few living witches had ever expected to see the signs for themselves.

Caro stared at the baby.

“So it is you.”

Fear followed wonder. If the wrong people knew, he'll be dead.

A groan came from the bedroom. The woman struggled to open her eyes.

“My baby,” she rasped.

“He’s safe.” Caro brought him close. Mara gathered him against her chest and kissed his forehead, eyes scanning the strange room but never leaving her son.

“You know what he is,” Caro said.

Mara nodded.

“Then you know we must hide him.”

“I can create a charm to suppress his wolf and conceal his scent. He will seem ordinary, but it requires a living anchor.”

“Use me.”

“You’re too weak.”

“I won’t let them take my son.” Mara’s arms tightened. “Use me.”

Before dawn, Caro prepared the room with herbs, candles, and protective markings. Mara lay at the centre, the baby beside her. Caro placed a small silver charm near the child’s blanket and began to chant.

Flames bent. A cold wind stirred, and pale light gathered around the newborn. It stretched toward Mara and sank into her chest. She gasped. Caro guided the magic into the charm until the candles flared again and the powerful energy around the child vanished.

“It worked,” Caro breathed. “His scent is hidden.”

Mara tried to smile. Then a sharp cry tore from her throat. Blood welled from her palms and spilled across the sheets.

“What’s happening to me?”

Caro caught her wrists. The blood kept flowing, and for the first time the witch had no answer.

Mara stared at her bleeding hands, then at the child.

“Caro… what have we done?”

Caro looked from the blood to the charm bracelet she had promised would protect the child. She had never imagined the magic would take something in return.

Years passed.

In the Blackwood pack, Cole grew under constant watch. He trained hard and sat through long lessons on the old laws until the words lived in his bones. By the age of ten he could already hold his own against older trainees. The weight of the future Alpha king settled on his small shoulders early, and he learned to carry it without complaint.

Yet some nights he woke restless, staring at the moon as if something important was missing. His wolf, still young, would pace inside him without reason. The pack healers called it growing pains. His father only said, “A true heir feels the land more deeply than others.”

Cole never told anyone about the strange dreams, white light, a distant cry, a presence that felt both familiar and out of reach. On those nights he would sit by his window for hours, one hand pressed to his chest, waiting for the feeling to fade. It never fully did.

Far from the pack territory, Ethan grew up in the quiet safety of Bronx. Caro raised him alongside Mara. The charm kept his true nature locked away. To the world he was an ordinary boy with quiet eyes and a gentle smile. Only Caro and Mara knew the power sleeping beneath his skin.

He was a careful child. He loved to collect smooth stones at the beach. When the wind shifts, he would pause mid-step and turn toward the trees as if he had heard his name.

One late autumn evening, when Ethan was eight, Caro found him staring at the edge of the woods.

“What do you hear?” she asked.

He tilted his head. “Someone is looking for me.”

Caro’s blood ran cold. She checked the charm at once. It still held, his is scent remained hidden. Yet the boy’s gaze stayed fixed on the forest.

That same night, in the Blackwood manor, Cole sat upright in bed. His small hands clenched the sheets. His wolf surged so strongly that his eyes flashed gold for a moment.

He whispered into the dark, voice steady for a child,

“I felt you.”

Outside, the wind moved through the trees, carrying no scent, no sound, only the first fragile thread of a bond that neither boy yet understood.

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