Dawn rose cold and pale across the ridges as we prepared for departure. The forest around the safehouse stood cloaked in silence, not the peaceful kind but the tense hush that comes before a storm. The leaves barely rustled. No birds sang. Even the wolves in the perimeter patrols were quiet, noses tilted upward, catching the faintest trails of danger carried on the wind.
Aria stood by the cabin doorway, wrapped in a worn traveling cloak Rhys had found in the storage crates. The hood half-shadowed her face, but I could see the worry etched in her eyes. She clutched the charm her mother had given her—still unknowing that the token was more than sentiment. It was a ward. A key. And a symbol of her bloodline.
We didn't speak much as we moved. A small party: Rhys, Mira, three scouts, Aria, and myself. The others would remain behind to protect the haven. I hated splitting the pack, but we had little choice. War was already creeping through the cracks.
We took the ridge path north, a trail known only to a few of us—older than my father's time, cut by ancient wolves who once roamed when the veil between man and beast was thinner. It would take three days if the weather held. Less if the enemy chased us.
Aria walked beside me in silence, matching my pace though her boots were clearly not meant for such terrain. Still, she didn't complain. Her eyes scanned the forest constantly, like she expected something to leap out at any moment.
"You know they're watching us," she said after an hour of silence.
"Yes."
"Not the vampires. Something else."
I nodded slowly. "The Hollow Sun."
She looked over at me. "Why do they hate us?"
"Because we exist. Because we challenge their illusion that the world is theirs alone. They fear what they can't control, and they destroy what they fear."
A pause.
"Werewolves. Vampires. And... me."
"Especially you."
The scouts moved ahead to check the path. Mira, fierce and silent, moved at my side. She never trusted easily. Not humans. Not even me, when I first rose to Alpha. But she followed where I led, and that was what mattered.
"The girl is strong," she whispered to me when Aria paused to drink. "But the power inside her is shifting. I can feel it. Like the wind before lightning."
"I feel it too," I said. "She doesn't know who she is yet. And that makes her dangerous."
"To us?"
"To everyone."
That night, we camped in the mouth of an old stone hollow near the riverbend. A fire crackled low in the center. I posted guards. Rhys took the first watch. I sat across from Aria while she warmed her hands.
"Tell me what the Moonwell is," she said.
I stared into the fire. "It's a sacred place. A spring at the heart of a ruined temple deep in the Hollow Grove. Before humans divided the land, our ancestors worshipped there. The Moonwell is said to be the place where the First Flame touched the earth. Where the Flame Spirits descended and passed on their gifts."
"Gifts?"
"Strength. Vision. Balance. Some say it was the source of the original shapeshifter's power. But most believe it died out long ago."
"And you think I'll find answers there?"
"If they still exist, yes. If not... perhaps enough of the past remains to guide us."
She didn't look convinced. I wasn't either.
The wind howled through the hollow that night. And in the small hours before dawn, I felt it again.
Eyes.
Watching.
I rose silently, leaving Aria by the fire. Mira joined me without a word. We slipped into the trees like shadows. The scent was faint—musk, copper, old leather. Not vampire. Not wolf.
Human.
But masked.
I found the trap on the eastern edge of camp. A wire snare laced with bone dust and silver filings. Designed to cripple a wolf mid-run.
"They're setting the ground," Mira growled. "Testing how close they can get."
I crushed the trap beneath my heel. "Next time, they won't miss."
The next day was harder. The terrain grew steeper. Aria stumbled once but caught herself. I offered my hand. She hesitated, then took it.
Her palm was cold, but the spark I felt there was anything but.
We passed ancient markers—runes carved into trees, stones shaped like crescent moons. Most would miss them. But I knew what they meant.
We were entering old territory. Sacred land.
And something stirred beneath it.
On the third day, the ruins came into view just before sunset. Moss-covered pillars rose from a clearing choked with mist. The Moonwell sat at the center—a basin of water so still it looked like glass. Silver light shimmered above it. Not moonlight.
Something older.
We entered together. Mira and Rhys remained at the perimeter, guarding against anything that might follow. I guided Aria to the well.
"What do I do?" she whispered.
"Step forward. Look into the water. Let it see you."
She did.
The moment her reflection hit the surface, the light changed.
Ripples spread.
Wind rushed around us, though no trees moved. The air grew thick with scent—wildflowers, old stone, burning cedar. The past. The flame. The wolves that came before.
Aria's eyes widened.
A voice echoed from the water. Ancient. Feminine. Not speech, but feeling made sound.
You are not yet whole.
Aria staggered back. I caught her.
"What did you see?" I asked.
"A woman. In fire. Her face was mine. But older. Sad. She said... she said I was the last. The only one who could finish what they started."
I felt the world shift. Not in my mind. In my blood.
The prophecy was real.
And she was the Flame.
Suddenly, Mira howled.
A warning.
Enemies near.
Rhys barreled into the clearing. "They're here! Hunters. Ten at least. Coming from the east."
I turned to Aria. "We have to move. Now."
She nodded, but her hand gripped mine tight.
"I saw more," she said breathlessly. "They're not just after me. They're after the Moonwell. They want to destroy it."
Of course they did.
To kill the root is to kill the tree.
We ran. Through old brush, over fallen stones. Arrows hissed past, one embedding into a tree beside my head.
We moved like wolves, even Aria. She had begun to sense where the path led, her instincts sharpening. I saw the glow in her eyes as we cleared the trees.
She was changing.
Awakening.
We reached the base of the ridge when the first hunter broke from the brush behind us.
Tall. Cloaked in black. Masked.
I turned to face him.
"Go!" I roared to Rhys and Mira. "Get her to safety."
They hesitated.
"That's an order."
Then they were gone.
I met the hunter in the clearing. His blade gleamed with wolf-bane. He didn't speak. Just attacked.
I shifted mid-leap, claws catching his sword and wrenching it aside. Teeth tore at fabric and flesh. He moved well. Trained. But he was no wolf.
The fight lasted seconds. When it ended, I stood bloodied but alive.
Three more shapes moved in the woods. But they did not follow. Not yet.
They had seen the well.
They would be back.
I limped to where the others waited beyond the ridge. Aria ran to me, eyes wide.
"You're hurt."
"I'll heal."
She looked past me.
"They'll come again. Won't they?"
"Yes."
"Then we make them bleed for every step."
Her voice held fire now. Real fire.
The Flame had awakened.
And the war was about to change.