t cross-legged in the middle of the sacred circle. Around her, the ruins stood in watchful silence, cradled by the whispering forest. Ruvan moved slowly, drawing symbols in the dirt with a dagger tipped in moonstone. The cold air was thick with magic—raw, wild, and aching to be unleashed. Tonight, Seraphina would complete the ritual properly. No sabotage. No shortcuts. But this time, the ritual would not only awaken her power—it would test if she truly had what it took to lead, to fight, to survive. "Are you sure?" Kael asked quietly, watching her with a gaze filled with unspoken things. "Once you do this, you won't be the same." She met his eyes, soft but sure. "I don't want to be the same. The old me was still hoping someone would come save her. This me knows I'm the one who has to save everyone else." She took a deep breath and placed both hands on the ground. The symbols lit up. The wind roared. And the ritual began.
Light burst upward from the earth, wrapping around her like ribbons of silver flame. Her body trembled as the magic reached into her soul—deeper than before, not just searching, but revealing. Images flickered across her mind: her mother's face, the night her village was raided, the first time she felt her wolf stir inside her. And then—something new. A memory not her own. A silver wolf in chains. A child's cry. A crown made of bone. She gasped as the visions passed, and pain rushed in like a flood. The power was demanding her truth—her darkest secrets. "I wanted to run," she whispered into the light. "I hated the responsibility. I was scared of becoming like her." The energy pulsed, acknowledging her confession. Her mother's voice echoed through the ruins, not a ghost, but a piece of her spirit left behind. "Being strong doesn't mean not being afraid," it said. "It means standing up, even when fear is the only thing keeping you company." Seraphina screamed as her body shifted—not into the soft furred form of her wolf—but something taller, wilder. Half-wolf. Half-goddess. Moonmarked and no longer broken.
When the light finally faded, Seraphina rose slowly, power humming beneath her skin. Kael stared, awe and fear flickering in his eyes. "You've changed," he whispered. She walked toward him, the ground almost trembling beneath her bare feet. "Not changed. Awakened." Ruvan approached, bowing slightly—not with submission, but respect. "You are what the old bloodlines feared. The heir to balance. The one who can destroy the corruption or feed it." Seraphina nodded, but her mind was already turning. Calen was only the beginning. There was a puppeteer in the shadows. And she now had the strength to find them. But just as she turned to leave the ruins, a low growl stopped her. From the edge of the trees, a figure stepped forward. Cloaked. Hooded. Familiar. "It can't be," Kael whispered. "He died the night your village burned." Seraphina froze. The figure lowered their hood.
It was her father.