Chapter 3

Aria

I don’t remember running.

One second, I was standing there, hearing his voice slice through my chest like a dagger—I reject you—and the next, the trees were swallowing me whole.

The forest wraps around me like a blur. Branches whip against my skin, rocks tear at my feet, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. The pain is too sharp, too consuming. It’s like my soul is on fire, and there’s no way to put it out. My breath tears from my throat in ragged gasps, sharp against the cold night air. My ears ring, my chest aches, and still, I run, driven by instinct alone.

The mate bond wasn’t just broken.

It feels like his words ripped it from me. Tore it from my soul.

I collapse near a stream deep in the woods, gasping, clutching at my chest like I can physically pull the hurt out of me. The moss is damp beneath my knees, cool and soft compared to the burning inside me. My wolf thrashes violently, howling so loud I swear I can hear it echo through the trees. The sound is raw, feral—a scream of betrayal.

Why?

Why would he do it?

I felt the bond. It was strong and alive. He must have felt it, too. That fire. That pull. That… truth. Mates aren’t supposed to reject each other. Not like that. Not in front of everyone. Not me.

Wasn’t I enough? If the Moon Goddess chose him for me, shouldn’t that mean we are equals? I don’t understand.

A sob breaks free before I can stop it. I press my fist against my mouth, trying to hold it in, but the dam’s already broken. My whole body shakes as I curl into myself on the cold ground. The scent of crushed leaves and damp bark surrounds me, grounding and overwhelming all at once. I can still smell him—his scent lingering in my senses. Sharp pine, firewood, cold air.

I don’t even know how long I stay there—minutes? Hours?

All I know is the pain doesn’t go away.

And then something worse begins.

It starts in my spine—a sharp, burning heat that spreads outward, down my arms, into my legs. My fingers curl involuntarily. My vision warps, my heartbeat thundering against my ribs like a drum of war.

My wolf is trying to shift.

But it’s wrong.

This isn’t how they said it would feel. The girls in the pack who had already shifted—they said it was painful, yes, but… natural. Like coming home to a part of yourself you didn’t know was missing.

This feels like I’m being torn apart… like something buried deep is ripping its way to the surface.

A scream rips from my throat as I arch back, nails digging into the dirt. My skin burns, glows for a split second, then goes dark. My bones crack—not just shifting, but changing. My blood feels too hot, boiling under my skin, and there are voices now. Not my wolf’s. Not from within.

Whispers. Ancient. Cold and curious.

She’s waking. She returns. The blood remembers. Blood has returned. We are saved. Stay.

I don’t know what it means. I can’t focus. My heart pounds like a drum of war in my chest, and then— Everything goes black.

—

I wake to silence.

Stillness.

Cold air touches my bare skin, and I blink slowly, trying to piece together where I am. The trees above me sway gently, moonlight breaking through in pale ribbons. The forest has gone quiet, like it’s watching. My body aches, but the burning is gone. The pain has receded into a hollow, pulsing throb beneath my skin.

And I’m no longer in my old skin.

I shift to all fours, slowly rising—unsteady, unsure. Leaves crunch under paw. The air smells different. Sharper. I pad toward the stream, drawn by instinct, and freeze when I see my reflection.

Pewter eyes. Brighter than before. Almost glowing.

My fur is pale—not the typical muddy brown or stormy gray of our kind—but white. Glowing white.

No. Not white. Silver.

Like moonlight solidified into fur.

I don’t look like a border omega.

I don’t even look like a wolf entirely.

A faint ring of light pulses just beneath the surface of my skin—like magic, like something wild and ancient. Its power makes my fur shimmer.

I stumble back, panic rising. What… what am I?

A sound snaps through the trees—footsteps. I duck low instinctively, ears twitching. A scent reaches me. Not pack. Not hunter. Something older.

Rogue.

I shift back without thinking. The transformation is smoother this time but still strange. My body knows what to do, even if my mind doesn’t. The night air stings against my bare skin as I scramble behind a low fern.

A figure emerges from the trees—tall, hooded, carrying a staff made of twisted oak. She moves like she belongs to the forest, like it makes space for her.

Not a threat, not exactly.

But powerful.

And watching me like she expected me to be here.

“Hello, little wolf,” the woman says. Her voice is calm, but her eyes are sharp. “You made it further than I thought.”

I open my mouth to speak, but my voice catches. My throat is dry. “Who… who are you?”

She lowers her hood.

She’s old but not frail. Her silver hair is braided down her back, threaded with dark feathers and bone. Her skin is lined with time, and her eyes are the colour of smoke.

“A friend,” she says. “One who knows what you are… and what you’re about to become.”

I stagger back. “I’m—no one.”

“You were once. They tried to hide you. They failed.”

The world shifts again. I feel it in my bones, in the mark that now pulses on my shoulder—a crest… a brand—a memory etched in flesh. A foreign feeling is lingering within, but it feels... right. Like the missing piece of a puzzle, I didn't know I should be solving. The truth that has been buried most of my life is scratching at the surface.

And I’m suddenly afraid it’s about to rise.