The whispering winds seemed louder than usual that morning. Aria stepped outside the cottage, a worn hoodie draped over her shoulders, shielding her from the early chill. Her fingers brushed over the spot on her collarbone where the mark used to be—an old habit she couldn't seem to break. She hadn't dreamt of the wolf last night, but the forest had a different energy today. Restless. Alert.
The town was already awake when she reached the small market square. Mrs. Hanover waved from her flower stall, her tulips still wet with dew.
"Morning, Aria," she called. "That storm last night didn't scare you, did it?"
Aria shook her head. "Didn't even hear it."
A lie. She had heard something—a howl that didn't quite sound like a wolf. Not entirely. It had echoed long after the thunder faded.
She lingered at the bookstore, letting her fingers trail along the spines of old paperbacks, pretending she wasn't trying to escape her own thoughts. The shopkeeper, Mr. Gideon, gave her a knowing nod. He never asked questions.
As she stepped out with a book in hand, the hairs on her arms rose. She wasn't alone.
Her eyes darted to the edge of the woods. For a moment, nothing. Then—a flicker of movement. A tall figure cloaked in black, half-hidden behind a tree. Watching.
Her heart skipped.
She turned sharply. "Hello?"
The figure stepped out—and vanished.
Not behind a tree. Not into the shadows.
He simply disappeared.
The dreams returned that night. But this time, the wolf didn't attack. He stood beneath the moon, still and regal. His silver fur rippled like liquid light, and when he turned to her, she felt something pulse deep within her chest. Familiar. Ancient.
Come back.
She woke with a gasp.
Three nights later, the stranger appeared again. This time in the clearing near the lake. Aria had walked there instinctively, something pulling her from her bed before dawn. She didn't expect anyone else to be there.
But he stood at the water's edge, barefoot, his eyes closed.
She didn't make a sound, but he turned.
His eyes met hers—and time stopped.
Dark hair. Sharp jaw. The same strange air that clung to her dreams.
"You're not supposed to be here," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Aria took a step back. "Who are you?"
He tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle. "You don't remember me?"
"What?"
"Your mark," he said, his voice tightening. "It faded. But you still feel it, don't you?"
She froze.
How did he know?
"Stay away from me," she whispered.
But he stepped closer. "You were promised to me, Aria. A soulbond can't be broken. Even if the mark fades."
"I don't even know you!"
"Not yet," he murmured. "But you will."
And before she could speak again, he shifted.
Right before her eyes, his body twisted, bones cracked, and fur burst from skin. The black wolf stood where the man had been, eyes glowing with the same impossible intensity.
Aria stumbled back—but not out of fear.
Something inside her responded.
Like a part of her had been asleep her entire life, only now beginning to wake.
The wolf disappeared into the trees, silent as a shadow.
And Aria, breathless, knew nothing would ever be the same again.