The moon had long since passed overhead, casting only a faint silver glow over the quiet town of Thornhollow. The world outside had gone still, but inside Lucia's cottage, everything felt like it was about to change.
Candlelight flickered in trembling halos across the wooden walls, shadows dancing like whispers of memory. The hearth crackled low, throwing warmth that couldn't quite chase away the chill seeping into our bones. Ana and I stood in silence before the woman who had raised us-our protector, our guardian, our abuela.
Lucia's old rocking chair creaked as she leaned forward, her knuckles white around a mug of untouched tea. Her gaze wasn't focused on us-but somewhere far away. A time long buried. The air felt heavy, like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for something it knew we couldn't undo.
I stepped forward, heart pounding in my throat. "We're done pretending," I said, my voice soft but steady. Firmer than I'd expected. "I need the truth, Abuela. All of it. Who I am. Who our parents really were. Why I don't remember."
Ana came to stand beside me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she was bracing for a storm. "And what happened the night you found us," she added. "No more secrets."
Lucia blinked slowly, her eyes-usually a warm, steady gray-clouded now with something I hadn't seen in her in years. Grief. And maybe... fear.
"I prayed this day wouldn't come so soon," she said at last, her voice low and trembling. "But I see it now. Your aura, Scarlet. Your power is stirring. And with it... your bloodline. You're beginning to remember, aren't you?"
"I don't know what I'm remembering," I whispered, "but something's breaking through. That lake, the tree, Alec... it felt like I'd been there before."
Lucia nodded solemnly, as though that confirmed something she'd long suspected. "Then it's time."
She set her mug down with trembling hands and stood slowly, her joints popping with the effort. She crossed the creaky floor with purpose, stopping near the hearth. With a single motion, she pushed aside the woven rug and knelt, fingers brushing across a hidden seam in the floorboards. With a soft grunt, she pried one loose.
From the hollow beneath, she pulled out a small cedar chest, weathered and ancient. I recognized it instantly-though I didn't know how. My pulse quickened.
She carried it to the dining table and opened the latch with a whispered word in a language that wasn't Spanish and wasn't Latin-something older. A shimmer of magic hummed through the air as the lid creaked open.
Inside was a collection of objects that shouldn't have meant anything to me-but each one struck like a tuning fork in my chest.
A silver locket.
A deep crimson ribbon, worn but neatly tied.
A faded photograph of two figures-one with windblown curls and laughter in her eyes, the other tall and dark-eyed with strength in his stance. Between them, a baby swaddled in midnight blue, her mouth open in a sleepy yawn.
And then... a ring.
The crest carved into its face was unmistakable: a silver thorn curling around a wolf's eye.
Lucia exhaled, brushing her fingers over the ribbon before lifting the ring between us.
"Your mother, Isadora Silverthorne," she said, her voice reverent, "was the strongest enchantress I ever knew. Her power was written in the stars, carved into bone, woven into every root of this land. She could speak with storms. Bend light. Command the spirits of the forest."
I stared at the locket, my chest tight.
Lucia's voice broke slightly as she continued. "And your father, Cassian... he was more than an alpha. More than even a hybrid. He was descended from both the Nightfang vampires and the oldest werewolf lines. Fire and shadow, fury and heart. Together, they ruled. Not just with power-but with purpose. They united the supernatural territories in peace. Until the prophecy began to stir."
My eyes flicked up sharply. "Prophecy?"
Lucia looked at Ana and me, then lowered her voice. "The child of three bloodlines. A tribrid. You."
I went still.
"You were the first of your kind," Lucia said. "Enchantress, wolf, vampire. Magic, instinct, and power fused together in one being. You were born under a blood moon, in a storm the old ones called Omenfire. And from the moment your cry filled the air, everything changed. The High Clans feared what you might become."
Ana's voice cracked. "And the night they came for us..."
Lucia nodded, slowly, the lines around her mouth deepening. "You were nine. Ana, eight. I still remember the scent of smoke in the trees. The warlocks came first-sold their souls for dark magic. Then rogue wolves. Vampires twisted by shadow. They wanted power. They wanted you."
I closed my eyes, and a flicker surfaced.
Flames reflected in puddles. Screams. Ana's tiny hand in mine. Bread. My mother's voice-chanting something ancient. And then... silence.
"I don't remember them," I whispered. "I don't remember anything."
Lucia looked down. "Because your mother sealed your memories. A blood-lock. An enchantment so deep, it had to be etched into your soul. It was her final act before the house burned. I arrived too late to save her, but not too late to save you."
"And you kept it hidden?" Ana asked quietly. "All this time?"
"I raised you here," Lucia said. "Masked your magic. Buried your scent. I lied to everyone-including you-to keep you safe."
I touched the edge of the ribbon. The fabric was soft, frayed. My mother's.
"I understand why you did it," I said finally, my voice cracking. "You were trying to protect us."
Lucia's eyes shimmered. "And I would do it again, mija. But that time is over. The world is stirring. You felt it, didn't you? At the lake. You're waking up."
Ana took my hand. "We need to remember. All of it."
Lucia nodded solemnly. "There is a way. But memory magic like this... it doesn't return gently. It breaks. Shatters. Makes you face the truth piece by jagged piece."
"Then let it," I said. "Because I won't run anymore."
There was a pause, then Lucia reached into the chest again and pulled out a folded letter-edges worn, seal still intact with a sigil in violet wax.
"She wrote this for you, Scarlet. The night before it all fell apart. I've never opened it."
My fingers trembled as I broke the seal. The parchment was soft and smelled faintly of lavender and ink.
Violet script curled across the page like magic:
"My dearest Scarlet,
If you're reading this, it means the stars kept their promise. That the earth cradled you in my absence. That you survived.
You are more than the blood in your veins. You are moonlight and wildfire. You are a bridge between worlds.
Never let them shame your magic. Never let them chain your heart.
You are mine. And you are meant for more than they can imagine.
Love always,
Isadora."
⸻
The words burned into my soul like a brand.
Tears spilled freely, and I didn't care. Ana wrapped her arms around me first, and then Lucia joined us. We stood that way, the three of us, hearts breaking and healing in the same breath.
Eventually, we made our way upstairs. Dawn was beginning to kiss the horizon, soft peach and lavender spilling into the sky like a promise.
Ana collapsed into bed with a groan, dragging a blanket over her head. "This was not the junior year I had in mind."
I stood at the window a moment longer, clutching the letter to my chest. Below, the dew-covered garden shimmered faintly. The sigil carved into the old oak out back-a protective rune I now recognized-glowed faintly beneath the moonlight.
I finally slid into bed, the covers cool against my skin. My heart thudded with too much.
"No," I whispered into the pillow, voice raw but certain. "But maybe... this is the year we stop pretending and finally rise."
------
Later that night, long after Ana's soft breathing signaled sleep and Lucia's bedroom door had creaked shut, I lay awake staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. The letter from my mother rested on the table beside me, its violet ink still glowing faintly in the dark like it was alive-like it was watching over me.
I turned onto my side, clutching the pillow to my chest. My heart still thudded unevenly, heavy with everything I had learned.
Scarlet Silverthorne.
It wasn't just a name-it was a history, a bloodline, a legacy soaked in power and betrayal. How had I not known? How could so much of myself be missing?
I remembered fire. Screams. Ana's small hand gripping mine. I remembered the smell of burning parchment and the sound of splintering wood. I had been protected from the rest-wrapped in magic and half-truths-but now I felt the weight of it all pressing against the walls of my mind.
They called me a bridge between worlds.
But what if that bridge was already crumbling?
My fingers itched with the remnants of unspoken magic. My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin. And somewhere deep inside, something older... something cold and ancient... was beginning to wake.
Was I strong enough to carry it all?
I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of my mother's words settle into me like a second skin.
Moonlight and wildfire.
The only way forward was through the flames.