The moon had risen to its fullest crown, spilling cold light across the distant mountains like molten silver poured from the heavens. Its face was unmarked, pristine, watching the world below with ancient indifference. But inside Logan's chamber, darkness clung to the corners like dust that had settled for centuries. Thick. Suffocating.
The room was quiet. Not peaceful, but the kind of quiet that followed a storm. Still, but tense. A quiet that pressed against the eardrums until it made you want to scream just to hear something again.
Logan sat at the edge of his desk. Elbows on his knees, head bowed low. His shoulders were hunched forward, the weight of memory carving tension into every line of his body. The fireplace across the room had long since gone out, leaving only the stale scent of ash and the echo of warmth that had already forgotten it ever lived there.
The dreams had returned.
No, not dreams. Nightmares.
Liyara.
He saw her again. Night after night. The moment she died. Her blood had pooled beneath her like spilled ink, a dark mirror that reflected nothing but his own shame. And her eyes—God, those eyes. She hadn't looked at him with hatred. Not even fear. Just something worse. Something he would have rather never seen. Forgiveness. A silent, final absolution that tore deeper than any blade ever could.
She came to him now not as a ghost but as a sentence. A punishment. A judgment passed down by memory and sharpened by twenty years of guilt. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there.
But lately, something had changed. The dreams had grown clearer, more vivid. Less like the past and more like a message. A warning. Or maybe a prophecy.
And with them, her scent.
He hadn't smelled her in decades. Not since the night her body turned cold in his arms. Not since the earth swallowed her name. But since the moment Tessa had stepped into this estate, it had begun to drift through the halls again. Faint. Elusive. But unmistakable.
He tried to ignore it. Fought the instinct to confront her. The human girl. But something about her refused to be ignored. The way she had looked at him in the corridor, the defiance in her body even while Selene choked the breath from her. The way her eyes never dropped.
It was familiar. Too familiar. Like a thread from the past had wound its way into his present and tied itself around his throat.
He stood suddenly. His chair scraped against stone, the sound scraping down the silence like a blade. His fists clenched, knuckles paling under the strain. The muscle in his jaw twitched, a small, sharp giveaway that he no longer had full control.
A knock came. Once. Then the door opened.
Lucan Drest didn't wait for permission. He never did. After twenty years of being Logan's Beta, he knew when to step in without being invited.
"You're still awake," Lucan said softly. His voice was cautious, like someone checking on a sleeping lion.
Logan didn't respond right away. He moved toward the window—the only one in the estate—and pulled it open. Cold air bit his skin. Sharp. Unforgiving. He welcomed it.
Outside, the mountains stretched endlessly. Snow dusted their peaks like powdered bone. Beautiful. Remote. As cruel as they were quiet.
"Nightmares again?" Lucan asked carefully.
Logan didn't answer right away. Then he spoke, voice low and hoarse. "They're not just nightmares."
Lucan stepped further inside. His footsteps were light on the thick carpet, a courtesy he didn't have to offer. "You think it's her?"
"I haven't smelled that scent in two decades. And now it's back. In every hallway. Every room. I thought I was losing my mind."
"You think the human brought it with her?"
Logan's jaw tightened. "Maybe she's the reason I can't sleep. Or maybe Liyara's punishing me for letting her in. I don't know anymore."
Lucan stayed silent. He knew sometimes silence did what words couldn't. Logan didn't need to be comforted. He needed control. But it was slipping. And both of them could feel it.
---
Tessa had been in that room for seven days.
Seven days without sunlight, without windows, without the simple relief of knowing what time it was. The walls were old. Thick. Ancient stone that felt like it had been carved from the spine of the world. Time blurred, melted into itself. Night bled into morning until all she had were shadows and silence and her own thoughts echoing around her skull like gunshots.
The room was beautiful in a cold, unkind way. The kind of beauty that felt deliberate. The bed could hold three people. The furniture was flawless. But nothing could mask the fact that she was still in a cage.
Her only visitor was Elyx. Her assigned assistant.
He didn't talk much. Not unless she asked him to. His eyes were a soft green, calm and unreadable, like forest leaves right before a storm. He moved without sound. Appeared and disappeared like smoke. Sometimes she wondered if he was even real.
He brought her clothes. Food. A bitter tea that was supposed to calm her nerves. It tasted like dirt and regret, but she drank it anyway.
That night, she drank it again. Then curled beneath the covers, pressing fingers to the bruises on her neck. Five small marks. Almost healed. But the memory still burned.
And then she dreamed.
A field she didn't recognize but somehow knew. A sky made of silver instead of stars. Mist twining around her ankles like ribbons. Grass that shimmered with moonlight.
And her.
A woman moved through the field with grace. Regal. Beautiful. A braid of night trailing down her back, a gown of silver that caught the light in impossible ways. Her face, when it came into view, made Tessa's heart lurch.
"I've found you," the woman said.
Her voice carried over the air like wind through leaves. Not loud, but unmistakable.
"You've been lost for so long. But now we begin again."
Her hand extended.
Tessa reached—
And woke up.
She was drenched in sweat. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath short and ragged. The dream clung to her like fog. Real. Too real.
Then she saw him.
A shape in the corner.
"Elyx!" she screamed, clutching her chest. "Seriously? You can't just stand there!"
He blinked. Slow. Calm. "You screamed. I came in."
She groaned. Dragged a hand down her face. "Why am I not used to this yet?"
She sat up slowly. Let the silence settle. Let the dream loosen its grip.
Then she looked at him.
"Elyx..." she said, voice cautious. "Did Liyara have a sister?"
He froze.
Everything about him went still. His face. His breath. His voice, when it finally came, was faint. Strained.
"You shouldn't speak that name."
"But you know it," she said.
"There was a girl. A younger sister. Long ago. They say she died when Logan's pack fought hers."
Tessa's eyes narrowed. "So Logan... killed her?"
"I don't know. They say Liyara became Luna as a peace offering. The sister's name was erased. No one speaks it anymore."
Tessa inhaled slowly. Her thoughts spun. Something clicked in her chest, like a gear that had been rusted now shifting into motion.
Then—
It happened.
A hum began behind her ears. Not sound. Pressure. Like the world was holding its breath. Her hands clenched. Her eyes widened.
Flames. Screams. Armor. Swords. Blood. A girl running. Logan's face, wild and grief-stricken. Silver light. A scream.
Then nothing.
She opened her eyes.
Elyx was beside her, panicked. "Tessa?"
She stood.
Her legs were shaky, but she stood.
He reached for her.
She pushed his hand away.
"I need to see him."
"Tessa—"
"I said no."
She stormed to the door. He tried to stop her.
She shoved him.
He flew backward, slammed into the wall with a thud. His eyes widened in disbelief. She stared at her hand. What had she done?
She didn't stop.
---
Logan sat in his study. Surrounded by books and maps. Firelight flickered along the walls.
Then the door burst open.
Tessa stood there.
Hair wild. Eyes on fire. Her breath uneven.
"You killed her, didn't you?" she asked.
Logan turned.
His face went pale. So pale, he looked like he'd seen the dead walk in.
And in that moment, nothing else existed.
Only the fire between them.
And the truth.
Waiting.