The forest had not slept since the battle.
It breathed differently now—quieter, cautious, as if every tree and root waited for something else to break the silence Blake had forced into existence.
Blake stood alone at the edge of the clearing where the pack had settled for the night. The wolves rested in loose circles, some sleeping, some keeping watch. The hunters had retreated to their camp farther down the ridge, uneasy but obedient.
Blake preferred the distance.
He sat on a flat stone near the cliff's edge, elbows resting on his knees, head slightly bowed. The moonlight traced the scars along his arms, the old ones and the new, the ones earned and the ones chosen.
I wonder if I can turn back to a human.
The thought returned again, uninvited.
Not because he missed humanity's cruelty.
But because he missed the option.
A presence entered the forest.
Blake felt it before he heard it.
Not hostile.
Not afraid.
Old.
He lifted his head slowly.
"Come out," Blake said, his voice calm but firm.
The forest answered with silence.
Then footsteps—slow, deliberate, unarmed.
From between the trees emerged a figure Blake had never seen… and yet somehow recognized.
The man was tall but stooped with age, wrapped in a weather-worn coat stitched with symbols Blake didn't recognize but felt. His hair was silver, long and tied back, his face marked by time and regret. One eye was clouded white. The other was sharp.
He stopped at the edge of the clearing and did not step closer.
"That voice," the man said quietly. "Still sounds like thunder."
Blake stood.
Every muscle tightened—not in preparation to strike, but to endure.
"Who are you?" Blake asked.
The man met his gaze without flinching.
"My name is Alder Rowan," he said. "And once… I held you when you were still called Sam."
The world tilted.
Blake did not move.
Did not breathe.
The pack stirred faintly behind him, sensing the shift.
"You're lying," Blake said at last.
Alder shook his head gently. "No. I'm remembering."
Blake's eyes burned.
"Say his name again," Blake growled. "And make sure you mean it."
"Sam," Alder said softly. "Samuel."
The name hit harder than any blade.
Blake took a step forward, claws flexing unconsciously. "Only my mother—"
," Alder interrupted. Fire-born. She used to sing to you when you cried."
Blake stopped.
Alder's voice trembled now, not with fear—but grief.
"You were born during a storm," Alder continued. "The sky split open that night. circled the mountain. Everyone said it was an omen."
Blake's chest tightened painfully.
"No one remembers that," Blake said. "No one should."
"I do," Alder replied. "Because I was there when they decided to leave you."
The words cut deeper than any truth before them.
Blake's voice dropped to a whisper. "Why."
Alder looked down.
"Because they were afraid of what you were becoming."
Blake laughed hahahaha once—short, sharp, bitter.
"Funny," he said. "So was I."
Alder stepped closer now, carefully.
"Your father he loved you," Alder said quickly, as if trying to salvage something fragile. "But love doesn't always win against fear."
Blake's claws dug into the stone beneath his feet.
"They left me," he said. "They didn't protect me. They didn't even look back."
"No," Alder said. "They didn't."
Blake's breath shook.
"I watched your mother cry as they walked away," Alder continued. "I wanted to stop them. Gods help me, I wanted to—but the elders forbade it."
Blake's head snapped up. "Elders?"
Alder nodded. "The Continuum wasn't always what it is now. It began as a council. One that believed certain bloodlines were too dangerous to exist unmonitored."
Blake's eyes darkened.
"They watched me," Blake said slowly.
"Yes," Alder answered. "From the moment you survived your first transformation."
Blake's voice trembled—not with fear, but rage. "You knew. All this time."
"I knew you lived," Alder said. "I did not know you became this."
Blake barked a hollow laugh. "This is what abandonment makes."
The pack began to gather quietly behind Blake, drawn by the tension, by the scent of truth.
Ryn spoke softly. "Alpha… who is he?"
Blake didn't look away from Alder.
"He knew me before I was a monster," Blake said.
Alder bowed his head toward the pack. "You protected him," he said. "Better than his blood ever did."
The words settled heavily among the wolves.
Blake exhaled slowly.
"Why now?" Blake demanded. "Why come to me now?"
Alder straightened.
"Because the Continuum is moving openly," he said. "And because they never intended you to live this long."
Blake's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"You were an experiment that escaped," Alder said. "They expected the forest to finish you."
Blake snarled. "It didn't."
"No," Alder agreed. "It crowned you instead."
Silence stretched.
Alder reached into his coat slowly. Several wolves tensed—but Blake raised a hand, stopping them.
The old man withdrew a worn leather bundle and placed it gently on the ground between them.
"What's that?" Blake asked.
"Proof," Alder said. "And a warning."
Blake hesitated—then stepped forward and opened it.
Inside were old documents. Symbols. Blood-sealed pages. A fragment of a sigil burned into bone.
Blake recoiled slightly.
"I've seen this," Blake said. "On the monster. On the labs."
Alder nodded. "Your blood unlocked something they could never control."
Blake clenched his jaw.
"So I wasn't abandoned because I was weak," he said.
"No," Alder replied. "You were abandoned because you were too powerful."
The truth settled like ash.
Blake closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, they glowed faintly—not with rage, but with resolve.
"They don't get to decide what I am," Blake said. "Not my parents. Not the Continuum. Not fate."
Alder smiled sadly. "That's why I came."
Blake looked at him sharply. "You didn't just come to confess."
"No," Alder admitted. "I came to help you finish what they started—on your terms."
The pack growled softly, uncertain.
Blake stared at the old man.
"For years," Blake said quietly, "I dreamed of answers."
He stepped closer.
"Now that I have them… I don't know whether to thank you… or tear you apart."
Alder met his gaze, unflinching.
"Whichever you choose," he said, "I will accept."
Blake was silent for a long moment.
Then he turned away.
"Stay," Blake said finally. "But understand this—"
He looked back, eyes blazing.
"You don't get to walk away again."
Alder bowed his head.
"I wouldn't dare."
The storm clouds gathered quietly above the forest once more.
The past had found Blake.
And it was no longer asking for forgiveness.