The morning light filtered gently through the kitchen window, wrapping the room in warm golden tones. Dust particles floated lazily in the beams of sunlight, like tiny secrets suspended in the air.
Rory sat at the table, fingers absentmindedly tracing the wooden grain beneath her palm. But her thoughts were anything but still.
Across the room, her mother moved quietly, humming a soft, tuneless melody as she poured water into the kettle. The sound should have been comforting. It wasn't. There was something different in the air today. Thicker. Heavier. Like the silence between them was pressing against Rory's skin.
She couldn't take it anymore.
"Mom…" Rory's voice cracked slightly, more uncertain than she expected. "Can I ask you something?"
Her mother turned, surprised, her hands still on the kettle. "Of course, love. What is it?"
Rory hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek. The words had been bubbling inside her for days. Maybe longer.
"Who… am I? Really."
The question hung in the air, fragile as glass.
Her mother's expression shifted—just for a second. A flicker of something passed through her eyes. Not confusion. Not shock. Something else. Fear?
"What do you mean?" she asked gently, but Rory could hear the tension straining beneath her voice.
"I mean…" Rory looked down, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. "I've been feeling weird. Different. Like something is waking up inside me. I've been hearing things. Seeing shadows. Feeling like someone's watching me. And…" she paused, heart pounding, "sometimes I see a wolf in the mirror. I don't even know if I'm losing it."
The kettle began to whistle.
Her mother didn't move to stop it.
"I thought I was going crazy," Rory whispered.
Then her mother turned off the stove with slow, deliberate movements. She didn't speak for a moment. Just stood there with her back to Rory, shoulders tight, as if deciding whether to step off a ledge.
"I've been meaning to tell you," she said finally, voice low and rough. "But I didn't know how. Or when. It came too fast."
Rory's breath caught. "Tell me what?"
Her mother turned around. Her face was pale, eyes glistening—not with tears, but with something deeper. A burden she'd carried for too long.
"You're not like other girls, Rory," she said. "You're something rare. Something powerful. You're… a Moonborn."
Rory blinked. "A what?"
"A kind of werewolf," her mother continued, choosing each word carefully. "But not just any kind. You were born under a rare celestial alignment. Moonborns are connected to the moon in ways others aren't. Stronger. Wilder. Gifted."
Rory shook her head slowly. "That's not… That can't be real."
"It is," her mother said softly. "And the reason you've been seeing things… hearing voices… it's because your true nature is waking up. You've felt it, haven't you? The pull. The wolf inside you."
She had. Rory couldn't deny it. Every nightmare. Every moment her vision blurred and sharpened. Every whisper in her head that wasn't hers.
"You knew all this?" Rory's voice trembled. "You knew what was happening to me and you said nothing?"
"I wanted to protect you," her mother said, stepping closer. "You don't understand, Rory. The world we come from—it's dangerous. For Moonborns especially."
Rory's chest tightened. "So, what? You just raised me in the dark? Lied to me about who I was? Why?"
Her mother looked away, pain flickering across her face. "Because I was told to. I was sent here… to keep you hidden. To raise you safely, away from the eyes of those who would hunt you."
The word hit her like a slap.
**Sent.**
Rory's pulse quickened. "You were sent? You're not even really my mom?"
There was a silence. A long, aching silence.
"No," her mother said at last, her voice trembling. "I'm not. I'm… not your birth mother. I loved you like my own. But I was chosen to keep you hidden after your parents—"
She stopped.
Rory stood up, her heart in her throat. "After what?"
Her mother took a shaky breath. "They died, Rory. Your real parents. They died protecting you."
The room went still.
Rory stared at her, the world tilting beneath her feet. "They're… gone?"
Her mother nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks now. "They gave everything to keep you safe. And I promised them I would make sure you lived a normal life, away from it all. That's why River and Luna resent you sometimes. They remember. They remember the life we all gave up. We were wolves once too."
Rory sat down slowly, the chair groaning under her weight.
She didn't cry. Not yet.
It was too much.
Too fast.
The shadows. The voice. The wolf. The mirror. The rage. The fear.
Now this.
"Why now?" she whispered. "Why tell me now?"
"Because you're awakening," her mother said. "And the Council knows. They've summoned you to a place where you can train. Learn what you are. Learn control. There's… an academy. One for your kind."
Rory looked up at her, throat tight. "And I have to leave?"
Her mother nodded. "Very soon. I'm sorry."
Rory felt something crack inside her, a fracture in her chest that spread like frost on glass.
She was never meant to stay here.
The family, the friends, the memories—they weren't built to last.
And now, her real life—the dangerous one—was waiting on the other side of this fragile world.
She stared out the window, eyes glassy.
Then, very quietly, she asked, "What happens if I don't go?"
Her mother didn't answer.
And that silence was louder than anything else.