Freya's eyes snapped open as the lecture hall came into focus. Students were packing up their things and heading for the exits. Her skin was damp with sweat despite the cool air.
Raven stood over her, concern etched into her face. "Are you okay?"
Freya pushed herself upright, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.
"You were shaking," Raven continued. "And I know the weather's cool, but you're sweating like you just ran a marathon."
Freya sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I haven't been sleeping well. Ever since I came to this town, it's been... one thing after another. I need to go home. Talk to my grandpa. Maybe he can help me make sense of all this."
"Then let's go," Raven said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
They stepped out of the hall into the open air, and Freya's gaze immediately landed on Dominic. He stood with his friends, chatting. Elena leaned into him, laughing softly as he rested an arm around her.
Freya pressed her lips together and looked away. She needed to get over her feelings for him. There was no way she could compete with his girlfriend, there wasn't even a competition. There never had been.
Dominic didn't see her the way she wanted him to. He was devoted to Elena. Even though he had offered friendship, he had made it clear from the start, nothing more. And she knew that's all it would ever be.
Just as she was about to turn away, he looked at her.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, it was just the two of them. His rare, striking red eyes held her in place, unreadable yet mesmerizing. Her heart skipped a beat.
Then Elena leaned in, whispering something in his ear. He turned to her, a small smile forming before he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
Freya swallowed hard and quickly looked away.
'How nice would it be to feel his lips against mine...'
She shouldn't be wondering how his lips would feel on hers. Shouldn't be yearning for something that was never meant for her.
But she did, and it was tearing her apart.
Shoving the thought away, she quickened her pace, desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and the impossible.
***
Jeffrey sat at his desk, old books spread before him, their pages worn and filled with the knowledge of werewitch ancestors. He flipped through brittle sheets of ancient texts and handwritten notes, searching desperate for anything that could help Freya through her transformation.
The nightmares had already begun. He had seen it before in others like her. She would dream of the wolves, of a pack welcoming her as one of their own. And each night, as she slept, the change crept closer; her breathing deepened, her fingers twitched, the faintest trace of fur brushing against her skin before vanishing with the morning light.
Soon, the full moon would come, and with it, the final transformation. Once she became a werewolf, her witch powers would awaken. And then, everything would change.
Jeffrey let out a slow breath, rubbing his temples. He ran a tired hand through his graying hair.
He really wished Freya's grandmother was here. She was the only one who would understand all of this. It was becoming harder for him to handle, and it would only get worse, maybe even impossible, once Freya fully became a werewolf. He had to tell her the truth, and she had to accept who she really was.
Jeffrey was alone in this, and as much as he wanted to protect Freya, he knew the truth would soon be unavoidable. Once she became a full werewolf, there would be no turning back.
A sudden noise pulled him from his though; the front door creaking open, echoing through the house.
Jeffrey shut the book in front of him, the scent of dust and old parchment rising into the air. He stood, locking the study behind him before heading downstairs.
In the kitchen, Freya stood with her back to him, setting her bag down on the table.
"You're back," he said, watching her closely.
Freya hesitated for a beat before turning to face him. "Grandpa..." she exhaled, as if bracing herself. "I want to go back to the city."
Jeffrey's heart clenched at her words. He had known this moment would come, just not so soon, not when everything was already set in motion.
"Go back to the city? Why so suddenly, Fae?" he asked, forcing his expression to remain calm.
"Ever since I came here, everything has felt... off. The nightmares, the attack at the bar, the way I keep getting drawn to things I can't explain... I just-" She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. "I need space. Maybe if I go back, everything will make sense again."
Jeffrey watched her closely. She wanted things to feel normal again, but he knew that wasn't possible. The nightmares wouldn't stop. The change was coming.
"You know I'll always support you, but running won't change what's happening," he said gently.
Freya frowned. "What do you mean?"
He had hoped to ease her into the truth, but if she was already questioning things, maybe it was time.
"Fae, what if I told you that everything you're feeling, everything happening to you, has a reason?"
Freya's frustration turned to confusion. "What are you talking about, Gramps?"
Jeffrey sighed and pulled out a chair. "Sit down, Fae. There's something I need to tell you."
Freya stalled for a moment before slowly pulling out a chair and sitting down. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the table as she watched Jeffrey, waiting for him to speak.
"You've always felt different, haven't you?" he asked.
"I mean... yeah, I guess. But what does that have to do with anything?"
"Because, Fae, you are different. And it's time you knew why."