The cold stone walls of the house pressed in on me, a constant reminder that I had never truly belonged. Father's glare followed my every step, while my brother's sneer seemed permanently etched into his face. Even the other wolves in the pack acted as though I were invisible—or worse, a burden.
I lowered my head and went about my chores, keeping my tail tucked and my voice low. Speak too loudly, and I'd hear Father's sharp bark of disapproval. Move too slowly, and my brother would strike with a whip of his claws, reminding me that mistakes were punished.
It had always been this way. I had long stopped questioning it, telling myself that I was simply… not worth anything more.
The kitchen was cold, the fire barely crackling, but I worked quickly, my hands numb. I felt every emotion in the house—the anger radiating from Father, the jealousy simmering in my brother, the silent disdain of the pack members—but I had learned to keep them at a distance. To survive, I had to be nothing.
And yet, even in my invisibility, I felt… different. There was a pull inside me, a quiet strength I did not understand. I had always brushed it aside, calling it imagination. But tonight, a shiver ran through my bones that felt more like promise than fear.
Father's shadow fell across the doorway. "Raelia," he said, voice low and commanding. "Your eighteenth birthday is near. Be ready."
I froze. The words carried weight, though he did not explain why. My heart quickened, a mixture of fear and something else—something unnameable.
Father turned and left without another word, leaving only a chill and the lingering sense that my life was about to change in ways I could not yet comprehend.
I lowered my head once more, whispering to myself, "Just survive… as always."
But deep in my chest, something stirred. Something that had waited… for this moment.