Meredith.
My hands trembled. Almost by instinct, I tugged at my collar, loosening the robe, and let the cloth slip from my left shoulder.
There it was: the pale, perfect crescent moon mark. The scar of my shame. A cruel reminder that even now, even after finding a wolf, the curse never truly let go.
"Do you see it, Valmora?!" My voice broke, rough with old pain. "Do you see what I've lived with every day?!"
"Yes," she whispered. "I see it. But there is more to that curse than you know."
Something in her tone shifted. It was so faint, almost a crack in old marble. But fury still drummed in my ears, and I ignored it.
"Save your riddles," I spat, breath ragged. "I'm not in the mood to listen to them."
Valmora exhaled."The enemies you had before hated you because they believed you were worthless, a disgrace to our kind," she said, slow, heavy with an ancient weariness.
"But those in your future will hate you because you will rise above them all—and jealousy will breed blood."
