Jamie's POV
Later in the day, I awoke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, my sheets in tangles like ivy wrapped around my frame. My heart thrashed within my chest as though it was trying to escape. The dream—the nightmare—still clung to me, cutting and vivid.
I had started in a garden.
Infinite roses bloomed at my feet—red, pink, even blue, whirling in a breeze that tasted of honey and morning dew. I was laughing, running, and looking. Andrew? I called out in the dream, my voice ringing sweetly between the hedges.
No answer.
I went on, faster, my feet bare against the soft grass. The sky glowed golden above the trees—until the world shifted.
And the roses changed into something else—taller, darker, pointed. Wolfsbane. The ground under my feet crunched, and the air thickened with smoke. And then I saw it.
A great wolf. Huge. White as snow, at least three times my height. Its eyes—such a deep blue, so impossibly deep—paralysed me. Not with fear. Not yet. But awe. As if I'd stumbled into the presence of something ancient.
And then she came.
The witch in the Council chamber.
Floating.
Floating.
Her voice like metal shorn against ice, reciting those same three words ad infinitum:
"Burn. Burn. Burn."
I choked when she approached me, as though the universe itself pulled shut, wrapping itself about my throat. The wolf lay unmoving. Staring. Eyes are sad now. Warning.
Then, deep like thunder inside a stormcloud, came the sound of a voice all so familiar.
My mother's voice.
"Fight, Jamie."
"Ah ah, I don't know how!" I shouted back, my voice shattering.
"Don't forget who you are."
And just as the witch charged at me with claws for hands, everything dissolved.
I sat up, gasping, my chest convulsing.
The room was filled with heavy mist, heavier than before. I could barely see to the edge of my bed. I lifted my hands involuntarily, and my breath caught.
One radiated—crackle with tiny splices of electricity like a star moving across my skin.
The other pulsed in a blue rim of fog, cold and pounding like winter morning breath.
I blinked.
Once.
Gone.
The fog cleared.
My hands were empty again.
I barely had time to process before the door creaked open.
"Jamie!" Grandma's voice snapped sharply, scared. She must've heard me scream.
"I'm… I'm okay," I croaked. My voice sounded odd—odd-odd-sleep-tinged and hesitant.
She looked at me for a moment, eyes brow furrowed, as if she could pierce the deceit. She then said, "Get dressed. Be in the storehouse."
I blinked. "The storehouse? Grandma, you just cleaned—"
"There is something I want to show you."
And she turned to leave.
Still shaking, I dragged myself out of bed, grabbed some clothes in haste, and staggered to the back of the house. The storehouse was always. Storage. Cobweb-covered jars of ancient implements, stacks of stuff my grandmother would never quite give away. It was always redolent of lavender and cedarwood.
Today was different.
She sat on a creaky bench inside, a flicker of light from one lamp. There, next to her, was a chest I'd never seen. Wooden. Weathered. The iron lock rusted with age. Its surface was etched with strange markings—delicate, swirling patterns I didn't know.
She didn't say a word. Just patted the space beside her.
I sat.
Silence.
Then she placed the chest in my lap.
"Since your mother, Sarah, passed away… I never wanted to recall the memory," she began, her voice hushed, a slight crack in it. "I prayed to the gods that you would be different. Not like her. Not like your father."
I looked at her, my chest constricting.
She looked away. "It was hard to lose them, Jamie. For me. For you. You were so young. The only piece of them that remained for me. I thought if I kept you away from where you were born—if I obliterated the past—you'd be safe."
I made myself swallow. "What are you talking about? You told me they died in the war. That they had no one but you."
She smiled—but it was the saddest thing I'd ever seen.
"I lied."
I felt the ground under me shift. My hands trembled lightly against the wood of the chest.
"They were warriors, yes. But not ordinary ones. We weren't always from Furstone. We fled here. We came from a place called Silvermoon Pack."
I blinked. "Silvermoon?"
She nodded slowly.
"Your father… Grigor. My son. He was the best of Silvermoon's fighters. Honored. Fearless. And your mother, Sarah—"
She stopped, eyes glinting. "They called her Lunaris. A whisper in the darkness. A legend some feared."
I didn't inhale.
"She could command waves, Jamie. Water did as she wished. She could extract it from the air, earth… from living animals. She was beautiful. Strong. Your father loved her with such passion."
Her voice shook.
"But the Council of Silvermoon feared her. Some resented what she could do. Others called her a threat to their Alpha. So they called for her. They wanted her gone."
My vision blurred, my throat closing.
"Your father was murdered defending her. And you. Your mother retaliated. She. Drowned half the pack in one wave."
I gasped. "She. What?
"She was trying to rescue you," whispered Grandma. "To rescue all of us. We fled. Your mother, you, and I. But they pursued us. And she…" her voice cracked, "she gave up her life so that we could have a chance to flee."
The memory must have destroyed her because her shoulders sagged, and tears sprang into her eyes. "She promised I'd protect you. And I did. To the best of my ability."
I looked at the chest. "Why now? Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I saw you yesterday. At the Council. I saw the bond. I saw the sparks, Jamie. You're not ordinary. Just like your mother wasn't. And the storm that looms ahead of you… You need to be prepared. You need to know where you came from."
My head reeled. A dozen emotions washed over me in waves. "I don't know how to deal with this, Grandma. I don't know if I can be as brave as they were."
She swept me into her arms. Her hug, warm and solid.
"You're my grandson. Sarah and Grigor Finn's son. You have their flame in you. You'll find your strength."
When she stepped away, she handed me the key to the chest.
Their things are inside. You're ready. But keep them close. Protect them. As I have."
I looked at the chest, my hands over the latch.
I was going to open it when a soft beep echoed through the hallway. The door.
Someone was present.
I did not know why, but I could feel it in my bones.
I already knew who it was.