Elara
The nightmares started again.
Not of the rogues or the blood, but of something older—buried deep beneath my skin. The kind of dream you wake up from already crying, unable to remember why.
The moon had barely begun to rise when I gave up trying to sleep. I slid out from beneath the covers and moved to the window, watching shadows stretch across the estate grounds.
My fingers touched the glass.
Something inside me felt... restless. Like a thread pulling tighter with every breath.
A knock startled me.
I turned. "Come in."
It wasn't Lucien.
It was a woman I didn't recognize. Tall, lean, with hair the color of storm clouds braided down her back. She wore no pack crest, just a dark cloak dusted with dried herbs.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I'm Seris," she said. Her voice was calm, even. "Lucien called me. He said you've been having dreams."
"I didn't tell him," I said defensively.
"He didn't have to. You carry the scent of prophecy."
My stomach twisted. "What does that mean?"
She stepped closer. Her eyes were pale amber, not wolf, not human—something in between. "It means your dreams are more than memories. They're warnings."
I took a step back.
She didn't follow.
"Tell me," she said gently, "when did the dreams first start?"
I hesitated. "When I was a child."
"Before the Awakening?"
I frowned. "What's the Awakening?"
She tilted her head slightly, studying me. "You've never been taught what you are, have you?"
"No," I whispered. "No one ever told me anything. They just… avoided me."
Seris sighed and sat on the edge of the bed like this was going to take time.
"You were born under the Blood Moon," she said. "That alone marks you as rare. But there's more. A child born on that night, if gifted with both omega blood and ancient power, is destined to awaken when the balance of the packs is about to shift."
My skin prickled.
"The Awakening is not a moment," she continued. "It's a slow process. A remembering. Each dream, each surge of power, brings you closer to what you were always meant to be."
I sat down across from her. "What happens when I awaken fully?"
"That depends on who you choose to be," Seris said simply. "You can be a force of peace. Or destruction."
I thought of the dead rogues. Of the way Lucien had looked at me afterward—part awe, part fear.
"I didn't choose this," I whispered.
"No one ever does. But you can choose what you do now." Her eyes sharpened. "So tell me, Elara. What was the first dream?"
I closed my eyes.
And let myself remember.
---
I was five.
The village where I lived was tucked in a quiet valley—no pack claimed it, not openly. It was a place where outcasts came to hide.
My mother and I lived in a small cottage at the edge of the woods. She was kind but afraid. Always watching the shadows. Always whispering old chants under her breath when she thought I wasn't listening.
That night, the moon was red.
I had gone outside because the trees had been whispering. They told me something was coming.
A boy stood in the clearing. He was older than me—maybe nine, maybe ten. Wild dark hair, bare feet, a long scratch on his cheek.
He didn't speak.
He just looked at me and said, "You're glowing."
I blinked. "No I'm not."
"Yes, you are." He pointed. "Your hands."
I looked down.
Light shimmered across my palms—faint, gold, like sunlight on water.
I screamed.
That was the first time it happened. The first time the energy rushed out of me like a wave. It knocked the boy backward. Trees bent. Birds scattered.
When it was over, I cried.
He didn't run.
He just sat up, wiped the blood from his nose, and grinned. "Cool."
His name was Rowan.
He was the first friend I ever had.
The only one.
---
When I opened my eyes, Seris was still watching me.
"Where is he now?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," I said. "He left before I turned seven. His father came for him. Said he didn't belong with us."
Seris nodded slowly. "You should find him. He may be more connected to your power than you think."
I looked away. "It's been years. He could be anywhere."
She stood. "That may be true. But people don't cross paths like that by accident."
Before she left, she handed me a small vial. "If the dreams become too strong, drink this. It won't stop them—but it will dull the edge."
I took it silently.
"I'll be nearby," she said, and slipped out the door like a shadow.
---
Later that day, I wandered through the estate gardens, needing space, needing air. The sun warmed my shoulders as I walked, but my thoughts were cold.
I wasn't just a mate.
I was a weapon. Or a prophecy. Or both.
And now someone from my past was rising in my mind like a ghost. Rowan.
The name hadn't left my lips in years.
"Elara."
I turned at the sound of Lucien's voice.
He looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes. But his posture was still the same—tall, powerful, watchful.
"I met Seris," I said.
"She's one of the oldest seers left in the north. I trust her."
"Why did you call her?"
"Because you won't talk to me," he said bluntly.
I blinked.
"You're shutting down again," he added. "And I get it. But I can't protect you if I don't know what's happening."
"I don't need protection," I snapped. "I need answers. I need the truth. About who I am. What I can do. Why these powers are tied to death."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "They're not."
"Then what are they?"
He paused.
"I don't know yet," he said finally. "But I know what they're not. You're not a monster."
The words hit harder than they should've.
Because part of me didn't believe him.
Part of me still saw those bodies on the ground. Still heard the scream inside my own chest.
Lucien watched me carefully. "Come with me."
"Where?"
He didn't answer.
He just held out his hand.
I hesitated, then took it.
---
He brought me to a tower at the far edge of the estate, one I hadn't seen before. Spiral steps led to a narrow room filled with scrolls, candles, and crystals that glowed faintly in the corners.
"This belonged to my mother," Lucien said. "She was like you."
I turned to him slowly. "You said that before. But you haven't told me how she was like me."
He walked to a shelf and pulled down a worn book. "She wasn't born with a pack. She was found by a wandering seer. Raised in secret. They tried to hide her power for years. But when it came out—when she used it—it changed everything."
"What happened?"
"She healed a dying Alpha."
I froze.
"He was beyond saving," Lucien continued. "But she touched him—and his heart started beating again. It cost her something, though. Every time she used her power, she grew weaker. She lived only thirty-five years."
A chill spread through me.
"She died protecting me," he said softly. "And I've spent every day since trying to make sure no one ever has to do what she did."
I moved to stand beside him. "You think I'll die young too?"
"No," he said fiercely. "Because I won't let that happen."
I touched the worn cover of his mother's book. "What's in here?"
"Her records. Her dreams. Her fears. Maybe answers."
I opened the book slowly.
The first page read:
"She will come under the Blood Moon. Small. Fierce. Light in her hands. Fire in her blood. And the one who mates her will walk the edge of shadow and salvation."
My throat tightened.
Lucien met my eyes. "She dreamed of you."
---
By the time the moon rose again, I felt different.
Not healed. Not whole.
But like the pieces of me were starting to reach for each other.
In the mirror, I didn't look like a weapon. I looked like a girl trying to find her place in a world that expected her to save it.
I brushed my fingers over the mark on my neck.
Still faint. Still waiting.
The bond was there.
But it hadn't fully formed.
Because I hadn't accepted it.
Not yet.
A knock came again.
This time, I didn't flinch.
I opened the door.
Lucien stood there.
"I brought someone," he said.
I frowned. "Who?"
He stepped aside.
And the boy from my dreams stood there.
Older now. Broader. A faint scar still marked his cheek.
"Rowan," I whispered.
He grinned. "Hey, Glow Girl."
---