Rein's POV
The book was calling again.
It lay on my head, resting like a sleeping beast innocent in appearance, but wild in truth. I had pushed it aside earlier, my mind was already occupied and I did not want to open any more secrets. I needed rest, not another trip into madness.
But rest never came.
The moment the moon showed, something strange came over me. I did not know what exactly happened, only that I was suddenly drawn to the book again. My breath caught in my throat. I reached for the book before I could even stop myself.
"Fool," I whispered as my fingers touched its surface.
The moment I made contact, the room changed.
Everything shifted—rippled like water disturbed—and in the blink of an eye, I found myself once again standing in the middle of the forest. It was always night here. The trees towered above me, and moonlight danced through their branches.
The moment I stepped forward, the shift returned.
My limbs ached, cracked, stretched unnaturally. I fell to my knees with a sharp gasp as my bones rearranged, my nails elongating. Silver fur poured from my skin, and before I could even scream, I was a wolf again.
Not just any wolf.
This time, my fur was glowing. That was new. That was… unsettling.
My silver coat shimmered faintly under the moonlight, reflecting the light as though woven from stars. I panted heavily, my paws sinking into the soft grass. My senses were sharper than ever—I could hear everything. The wind whispered through the leaves, the branches above rustled in rhythm, and if the trees could breathe, I was sure I would have heard them, too.
I hated how natural it felt.
How comfortable I was in this form, as though I had always been this way. As if I belonged here.
"Still resisting it?" a voice said behind me.
I turned quickly, my tail twitching, ears alert and standing tall.
Someone stepped out from behind a tree. Syria.
Not the body I now wore, but the spirit—the real and only true Syria. Her form floated lightly, her white gown glowing with a faint aura. Her eyes gleamed like twin moons, and her presence was more solid than before.
"You again?" I muttered, narrowing my eyes. "I thought you ran away. I thought you escaped from those people."
She tilted her head with a slight smile. "That is the thanks I get for saving you?"
I folded my arms, now back in human form. "You call this saving?"
"If I had not run, those people who saw me last would have killed both you and me," she said. "And besides, my power will protect you. Now that the memories are waking up… so are you."
"I do not want to be a wolf. Or any animal, for that matter. I also do not want your powers. I just want to leave this world… or at the very least, survive."
She stepped closer. Her voice softened, but the strength in it could not be mistaken. "Do you think they will leave you alone if they find out who you really are? That silver fur of yours—it marks you."
"For what?" I asked, more afraid of the answer than the silence.
Her eyes dimmed.
"For something ancient. Something even I was afraid to touch. But the fire in you—it is stronger than any magic I have ever known. That is why the book chose you. Why it opened for you. That is why my soul was able to linger in this world, long after it should have faded."
I shook my head, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. "Are you saying I'm like… a chosen one?"
"No," she replied, her lips curling faintly. "I am saying you are cursed. Just like I was. The only difference is, you still have time."
I did not like what she said.
Before I could ask anything else, the forest around me began to ripple again—the same way it did whenever the vision came to an end. But this time, something was different.
There was a presence.
Someone was watching me.
Syria turned her head sharply toward the trees. Her expression hardened.
"He saw."
"What?" I asked, instantly alert.
But the vision was fading fast. Her voice echoed like it was drifting from far away.
"He saw you transform. Be careful, Rein. They will either want to kill you… or chain you. You are not safe in that mansion."
She paused—then shouted as the light dimmed—
"Run!"
Darkness.
I gasped as I woke, my body jerking upright. The book was clenched tightly in my hands. My skin was drenched in sweat, my breathing shallow and uneven. My fingers trembled as I threw the book across the room like it had burned me.
What did she mean—he saw?
Who saw?
I turned toward the door instinctively.
It was shut.
But my senses, my heightened instincts—they told me someone had been here.
Someone had been watching.
I only hoped he had not seen Syria.
I reached under the bed, my heart still racing. My fingers wrapped around the makeshift weapon I had hidden there yesterday—a sharp metal rod I had broken off from the window hinge. It was not long, but it was something. My palm grew slick with sweat as I gripped it tightly.
I crawled toward the door and pressed my ear against it.
Silence.
Not a single pin could be heard.
That kind of silence was not peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that came before something broke.
I waited.
Only when I was sure no one was outside did I relax slightly.
But barely.
I returned to bed, curling under the covers. My eyes darted toward the book again, now lying near the wall where I had thrown it.
Syria's final words still echoed in my mind.
"He saw."
I closed my eyes, but my body remained tense.
I could feel it.
Danger was coming.
And somehow, I knew—whatever Syria had meant by being marked… whatever this curse was—it had already begun.
And someone in this house knew.