Morning came with soft clouds and quiet footsteps.
Calla stepped outside her small home, tugging her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The wind was cooler today. Trees swayed gently, whispering secrets no one else could hear. She stood still for a moment, watching leaves tumble down the dirt path, carried by the wind.
It felt… different today.
Something was shifting.
She looked up toward the Alpha's mansion in the distance. The way it stood over the village, not to tower but to protect—it reminded her of a watchful wolf standing above the pack, always alert.
She didn't know why she kept glancing at it lately.
No, she did know.
It was him.
Darien Kaelstrom.
Even his name felt too big for her thoughts. She'd never spoken to him. Not directly. Not properly. But somehow, ever since their first true encounter by the healer's hut, her heart hadn't been quiet.
He looked at you, her wolf whispered. He didn't know you. But he looked like he was trying to.
"But he's not my mate," Calla whispered. "Right?"
No bond. No scent, her wolf replied. But there's something else. Something old.
Calla walked down the path toward the training fields, passing younger wolves practicing their shifts. She had no intention of training—omegas weren't expected to—but she sometimes liked to watch from afar. She liked how free they looked when they ran.
She had never shifted.
Not fully.
Her wolf was inside her, but something held her back. It wasn't fear. It was… like a door that hadn't opened yet.
And maybe never would.
---
Darien slammed his office door closed, running a hand through his short, dark hair. Another border patrol had reported signs of rogues. It was the third time this week.
He paced in front of the window, watching the village again.
His wolf stirred.
She's out there.
"That girl again?" he muttered.
She's more than she looks, his wolf growled low.
Darien didn't understand it. There was no bond. No spark. But something about her had rooted itself in his chest. She moved like a shadow he couldn't catch. Always quiet. Always distant.
"Then why can't I forget her?"
His wolf didn't answer, only paced harder.
---
Later that evening, Mika came over with food and the latest rumors.
"Border patrols are tight," Mika said, biting into bread. "Something's going on."
Calla frowned. "Rogues again?"
"Maybe. But some of the guards said they saw lights in the northern forest. Strange lights."
Calla froze.
"Silver?"
Mika nodded. "How'd you know?"
Calla's hand tightened around her cup. The silver forest. Her dream. The voice.
Ours.
That word again.
"Mika… have you ever felt like part of you was asleep? Like, a real part—not just tired, but… locked away?"
Mika blinked. "I mean, sure. We're omegas, right? They don't expect much from us."
Calla looked down at her ring. "But what if we're more than they expect?"
---
That night, the wind howled louder than usual.
Calla dreamt again.
She stood barefoot in the silver forest. The trees glowed like moonlight, their leaves whispering in a language she didn't speak. Her ring pulsed softly, lighting the air around her.
And there he was—Darien.
Not real, but not a dream either.
They stood across from each other, not touching. Not speaking.
He stepped forward slowly, as if drawn by something neither of them could name. Her ring glowed brighter. His eyes locked with hers.
But just as he reached for her, a crack echoed through the forest.
The ground split. Light poured upward.
Her wolf screamed inside her—Not yet! Not yet!
Calla shot up in bed, sweating, breathing hard.
The ring was still glowing.
And for the first time… she felt a spark. A tiny flicker. Like the first fire catching in dry wood.
He's not your mate yet, her wolf whispered.
"But he will be," Calla whispered back.