There was something about the way he looked at her.
Not like the others. Not like the way her pack did—with disgust, or pity, or that emptiness that said, you don't belong here.
No. The boy by the tree had looked at her like he knew.
Then he said it:
"You don't belong here… because the blood in your veins was never meant to be bound by a single pack or clan. You are more."
More.
The word wouldn't stop spinning in her head.
Seraphina didn't go straight home. She wandered—half lost in the woods, half running from herself. Her feet moved on their own, crunching through brittle leaves and damp soil as if they could outrun the truth she'd just heard.
Her heart was too full. Too loud.
The forest, usually her escape, suddenly felt like it was watching her—every branch creaking with secrets, every gust of wind whispering things she couldn't quite catch.
Why did his words shake her so deeply?
Maybe because a part of her—buried beneath years of silence and shame—had always believed them.
Eventually, she found her way back to the tiny house near the edge of the pack territory. The one that had never felt like a home, only a cage with curtains.
Elryn sat by the fire, her back straight but her shoulders tight with tension. She didn't look up when Seraphina entered.
She never called her "daughter," not even in private. But sometimes, when she thought Seraphina wasn't watching, she looked at her with eyes that were afraid to love too deeply—and too scared to let go.
Days ago, Seraphina had found the book.
Tucked behind the kitchen shelf. Hidden in the shadows like a secret waiting to rot.
Its leather cover was cracked, the pages yellowed. The title was in a language that felt older than time. She hadn't understood the words, but she didn't need to. Because inside…
There was a drawing.
A glowing birthmark.
Her birthmark.
The exact one on her wrist she'd hidden under bracelets and sleeves her whole life.
She'd shown Elryn, desperate for answers.
Elryn had gone pale. Then, with trembling hands, she shut the book and said only three words:
"That book lies."
Then she locked it away like it was cursed and refused to speak of it again.
Since then, the silence between them had been louder than words.
Now this stranger—this boy—had said the same thing the book had hinted at.
That she was something… more.
That night, the dream came again. But this time, it was stronger.
She stood between two massive forces. One wrapped in silver moonlight, wild and full of howls. The other soaked in blood and shadows, burning with hunger.
In the middle… she stood alone.
Her body glowed, brighter than before.
And a voice—echoing from everywhere and nowhere—said:
"When the blood of two enemies births the child of dusk, the world will kneel… or burn."
She woke with a gasp, heart thudding like a drum in her chest. Sweat clung to her skin. The mark on her wrist pulsed, alive with fire.
She sat by the window, staring out into the night.
Everything was changing.
The boy's eyes. The book. The dream.
It all felt like pieces of something. Like she was standing on the edge of a truth too big to hold.
She whispered into the dark, voice barely more than breath:
"Maybe… I really am more."
Author Message:
Seraphina's starting to feel the weight of her truth—and the cracks in the lies around her. If this chapter stirred something in you, drop a 🖤 in the comments.
What do you think Elryn is hiding? And who exactly is the boy by the tree?