The forest was no longer quiet.
What once whispered with wind and hidden life now groaned under the weight of gathering tension. Birds no longer sang. Even the moonlight felt sharper, like the world was waiting for something to break.
We stood at the edge of the boundary—Lucian, Maris, and me—staring into the trees where the messenger's body had been found.
"He wasn't alone," Lucian murmured.
"How do you know?" I asked, wrapping my arms around myself, though I wasn't cold.
He looked at the ground. "No blood trail. No struggle. Whoever sent him… knew exactly what would happen."
Maris sniffed the air. "Crimson wolves. Two of them. One lingered longer than the other." She paused. "They watched."
Watched. Like I was a show. A weakness. A threat. Or all three.
"What do they want with me?" I asked.
Lucian turned to me. "If you're who they believe you are… they want to control you. Or kill you."
Not much of a choice.
We returned to the mansion, where the rest of the pack was gathering—wolves of every size and shape, both in human and shifted form. Some looked at me with curiosity. Others with unease.
But none of them looked away.
"She's the Moonborn?" someone muttered.
"Too small," said another.
"I heard she survived the Alpha's bite without dying. That alone makes her dangerous."
I felt my pulse spike. My palms grew clammy. It was like standing naked under a spotlight, every flaw and fear exposed.
Lucian raised a hand.
The room went silent.
"This is Raven," he said, voice firm. "And yes—she is Moonborn. Which means she is ours. Protected. Watched over. Anyone who questions that can challenge me directly."
A low growl rippled through the room. No one stepped forward.
I should have felt relieved.
But all I felt… was watched.
Later, I wandered the west wing alone, needing air—needing to think.
That's when I found the door.
A door I hadn't noticed before. Old. Wooden. Marked with a faded carving of a crescent moon pierced by a claw.
It shouldn't have called to me.
But it did.
I reached out.
The handle was warm.
The moment I touched it, a surge of heat pulsed through my arm, spreading through my chest. My vision flashed white. I stumbled back, gasping.
A voice, low and ancient, whispered in my ear:
> "The blood remembers."
I opened my eyes.
The door was gone.
In its place stood a mirror.
My reflection… wasn't mine.
Her eyes glowed silver. Her skin shimmered with moonlight. Her shoulders bore a mark—circular, glowing faintly.
She looked powerful.
And terrifying.
I backed away—right into Lucian.
He caught me by the waist. "Easy."
"I saw something," I whispered. "Or someone. In the mirror."
He looked past me. "There's no mirror here, Raven. Not anymore."
My heart thudded.
"What does that mean?"
"It means your awakening is accelerating," he said grimly. "Your blood is starting to remember who it used to be."
"And what if I don't want to be that person?"
Lucian's eyes softened. "You don't have a choice."
I turned away, angry tears stinging my eyes. "Then maybe I want to run."
"You can't outrun destiny," he said. "Especially when it's tied to mine."
That's when the howls began.
Not one. Dozens.
Not nearby. But not far, either.
Lucian's head snapped toward the window. "They've crossed into our territory."
"Who?" I breathed.
"The Crimson Pack."
He shifted before my eyes—bones cracking, muscles twisting, fur sprouting.
His wolf form was massive, dark, and ancient in a way the others weren't.
Lucian the Alpha.
He turned to me, voice echoing in my mind even without words:
Stay inside. Do not come out. No matter what you hear.
Then he vanished into the dark, leading his wolves into a rising storm of sound and fury.
I watched him go… and I knew I wouldn't obey.
Because something inside me—something wild and hungry—was rising, too.
And it refused to be caged.