The wind howled against the crumbling stone walls of the orphanage, as if the night itself wanted to escape.
Andrea lay wide awake on the worn mattress that had been hers since before she could speak. Her eyes were locked on the cracked ceiling, where water stains had long ago formed the shape of wings—mocking wings, the kind you never grew.
A storm was brewing outside—but it was nothing compared to the one inside her.
Midnight.
Her eighteenth birthday. No cake. No candles. No one to care. Just the cold silence of Mother Theressa's house of forgotten children.
Except the voice. That voice.
The one that had haunted her since she was barely old enough to walk. It had whispered through her nightmares, hummed through her headaches, grown louder every time she dared to dream of a life beyond the iron gates.
Tonight, it didn't whisper.
It screamed.
Run.
Andrea shot up, heart slamming against her ribs as pain tore through her body like lightning. Her hands trembled violently. Her breaths came in sharp, frantic gasps. It wasn't a nightmare.
It wasn't a dream.
Her skin burned from the inside out. Her bones… they ached like they were rearranging themselves. Changing.
In her skull, the voice clawed forward, no longer gentle. No longer patient.
You're not safe. You've never been safe. RUN.
She grabbed her coat, just the coat no shoes, no time—and stumbled into the hallway, past the creaky stairs, past the dark-eyed portraits of children who had once smiled, once hoped, and had long since disappeared.
And then… she saw it.
The front gate.
Open.
No locks. No chains. No guards.
Like it was waiting for her.
The cold slapped her face the moment she crossed the threshold, but she didn't stop. Her bare feet pounded against the wet pavement. She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she had to go.
Into the woods. Into the dark.
Branches whipped her face. Thorns tore at her legs. But she didn't feel it.
The pain inside was louder. Deeper. Older.
She ran until the world changed. Until the trees no longer looked like trees, and the air grew thick and strange, humming with something ancient. Watching.
And then… stillness.
Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the forest floor, gasping. The stars above blurred and pulsed. Her blood thudded in her ears. Her body shook like it was no longer hers.
Then she saw them.
Three men.
Stepping out of the darkness like gods walking through fog. Each one taller than a human, cloaked in shadows that bent around them. Their eyes glowed—one silver, one gold, one a bottomless midnight.
They didn't blink. They didn't breathe. Andrea opened her mouth. "Help... me," she rasped. "I feel like I'm dying—"
"A human?" said the one with gold eyes. His voice was a chord of thunder. "How did she get here?"
The one with silver eyes stepped closer, gaze fierce. "She is cute."
The third—midnight eyes, wild and endless—watched her like she was something he'd waited for all his life.
"Yes," he whispered.
The forest went silent. The wind died.
All three stood around her, no longer just watching, claiming. The air between them thickened, charged with something raw. The silence wasn't empty—it pulsed.
That was when it happened.
The connection.
It hit all three of them like a wave—no, like lightning through their veins. Andrea's heart lurched, breath catching in her throat as her eyes met theirs one by one.
And suddenly... she felt it. Not pain. Not fear. Them.
Mate.
The word thundered through their mind.
The one with midnight eyes dropped to a knee, chest heaving, as if the weight of it crushed him. His voice cracked as he breathed, "It's her... she's real."
The silver-eyed one closed his eyes, fists clenched at his sides. His jaw was tight, like he was holding back centuries of rage or reverence. "Fate has finally answered."
And the one with golden eyes? He simply stared—utterly still, like he'd just seen the sun rise for the first time in eternity. But his voice, when he spoke, was reverent. "Our mate."
Andrea's mouth opened, but no sound came out. She didn't understand. Her body was still trembling. Her heart was a drumbeat gone wild in her chest.
Mate? What did that mean? Her?
The golden-eyed one stepped forward, his hand reaching out, tentative, like touching her would burn him. "You're not dying."
She tried to move, to back away, but her limbs still wouldn't obey. Her voice barely came out. "What... I'm not?"
The silver-eyed one knelt beside her, gaze softening. "Yes, because you found us,"
"I don't understand—" she choked. "You will," said the midnight-eyed one. "But not here. Not yet."
Suddenly, a distant sound shattered the moment—a bell, faint but familiar. The orphanage's tower bell. It was ringing.
They all turned, the golden-eyed one cursing under his breath. "We have to leave now."
The silver-eyed man looked at Andrea. "You either come with us now, or you go back—and you'll never escape again."
Andrea looked between them—these men who stared at her like she was the answer to something sacred, something broken.
She should've been terrified.
But for the first time in her life, she wasn't alone. For the first time, someone chose her.
She reached up, shaky but sure, and whispered, "Take me with you." And just like that, the bond locked into place. Unseen threads pulled tight. Three souls. One girl.
And fate, watching from the shadows, began to stir.