The moon had been crawling higher each night, fattening like it knew a secret the world wasn't ready for.
By the time the full moon bled its way into the sky, casting the village in eerie crimson light, Lina could feel it in her bones. Not just the usual anxiety or bad dreams—this was something deeper. Primal.
She heard whispers in the rustle of the leaves. She caught phantom scents on the breeze—spiced pine, wet earth, the sharp, iron tang of fear. And stranger still, emotions clung to people like scents. At school, walking through the halls was unbearable. Shame, jealousy, hunger, sadness… she smelled them. Tasted them. Dread was thick as smoke.
And Rafe? He reeked of sorrow.
She tried to avoid him, but her instincts wouldn't let her. He was gravity now, and she was spinning around him whether she liked it or not. Every time they passed, her mark burned hotter, her senses sharper. Her skin buzzed when he got close.
And still—he said nothing. Just watched her with those storm-filled eyes like he knew exactly what she was becoming.
Because he did.
So did Ms. Thorne, who had gone conspicuously missing the last three days.
Even Selene had grown cold and distant, spending her time in the attic with ancient books and muttered prayers. Lina had asked once what was going on, and her mother had only said:
"You'll know when it's time. I just hope that when it comes… you'll choose fire over fear."
Lina hadn't slept since.
The night the moon turned red, it began with a whisper.
She wasn't sure if it was a dream or a summons. But one second she was pacing her room, trying to ignore the pulse in her shoulder—and the next, she was standing in the hallway, barefoot, already moving toward the door.
Her body led the way.
Not her mind.
Not her will.
She stepped out into the night and into something else.
The sky above was blood. The stars, thin and sharp. And the air… the air vibrated with something ancient and wrong. The charm Ms. Thorne had given her throbbed against her chest, but it didn't stop her feet from moving—faster now, into the woods, drawn by something older than instinct.
Something in her wanted home.
The wind howled.
So did the wolves.
The forest welcomed her like a predator waiting in the dark.
It was louder than usual. Alive. Trees shimmered in the crimson moonlight, and shadows moved like they had their own will. Her mark burned hotter with every step.
And then—she wasn't alone.
Snapping branches. Growls in the distance. The sound of bodies colliding.
Lina ducked behind a tree just as the first blur of fur streaked past.
A fight. No—a war.
Wolves were everywhere. Huge. Unnatural. Snarling and tearing into one another. It wasn't like anything she'd seen in documentaries or her mother's old texts. These weren't just animals—they were people. Transformed. Bones cracked midair. Fur erupted from skin. Howls echoed like war drums.
Two packs.
One group leaner, wilder—rogues, if she had to guess. The others were larger, their movements disciplined. The Flameborn.
In the center of it all stood a wolf larger than any other. Black fur gleaming. Eyes glowing gold.
Rafe.
She knew it instantly. His presence hit her like lightning to the ribs. He stood between the two sides, snarling, caught in a blur of claws and teeth. Every movement was precise, brutal—calculated. He wasn't fighting like a mindless beast. He was commanding.
Until a gray wolf lunged from the shadows, catching Rafe off guard.
Lina's breath caught.
The attacker was vicious, slamming Rafe into the dirt, jaws snapping at his throat. Rafe rolled, claws ripping into the wolf's side.
But he was slower now. Weakened.
Blood sprayed across the leaves.
And Lina couldn't move. Couldn't scream.
She watched as the fight turned desperate. Rafe shoved the attacker back—but another wolf, a russet-furred rogue, launched from the trees and drove its fangs into a black Flameborn wolf's neck.
The wolf died instantly.
Dropped without a sound.
Lina gasped.
And then something inside her broke.
A sound ripped out of her chest—more growl than scream. A deep, unnatural wail that echoed across the clearing like a shockwave. The wolves froze.
All of them.
Mid-snarls. Mid-attack.
Even Rafe stopped moving, golden eyes snapping to where she stood.
The forest stilled. As if time itself paused to listen.
Lina crashed into the clearing, barely keeping upright—her legs felt like wet noodles, honestly. She sucked in air, fast and messy, like she'd just outrun a freight train. Something nasty squirmed up from deep inside, all heat and itch, flames rolling under her skin, setting her nerves on edge.
Rafe's wolf form stepped toward her slowly.
Cautiously.
She could feel his sorrow again. Thick. Tangible. He knew she wasn't supposed to see this.
That she wasn't supposed to remember.
But she did.
And the part of her that was still human was being drowned by something older. Something hungry.
The others watched. Silent. Still frozen by her scream.
Then Rafe changed.
Not gradually. Not like in her dream. This was fluid. Horrifyingly graceful.
Bones shrank. Fur receded. Muscles reformed with sickening cracks. In seconds, the wolf was gone—and Rafe stood in its place, shirtless and bloodied, panting with exhaustion.
"You shouldn't have come here," he said to her as they both locked eyes together.
Lina's voice was shaking. "What… what is this?"
He stepped closer, hands raised in a slow, placating gesture. "A reckoning. The rogues came early. They sensed you. You're—"
"I'm what?" she demanded. "What am I, Rafe?"
He didn't answer.
Because another wolf growled—and this one wasn't on their side.
A large, silver-colored wolf arose from the shadows, its eyes glowing red, its jaws dripping.
The rogue Alpha.
The others stepped back, leaving a circle in the clearing.
Rafe didn't shift. He just stood in front of Lina.
Protecting her.
Lina clutched her arms, trembling, but something had changed.
The fire inside her didn't feel like a threat anymore. It felt like a weapon.
The rogue Alpha lunged.
And then the world exploded.
Not claws, not fangs—nah, this was something else entirely. Outta nowhere, a freaking pillar of fire shot up from the ground right between them. The silver wolf yelped, stumbling back, fur probably singed, ego definitely bruised. And get this—the blaze? Yeah, it wasn't coming from the woods. Nope. This was something different.
It came from her.
Lina stared at her hands—glowing faintly, fingers trembling.
Rafe turned slowly.
"You're awakening."