Rain sluiced down Lira's neck as she stood outside the skeletal remains of her childhood foster home, a Polaroid trembling in her hand. The house was a charcoal husk, its roof caved in, walls blackened by a decades-old fire. Jax hovered beside her, uncharacteristically silent, as she stared at the swing set in the photo now a twisted metal corpse half-buried in weeds.
"You sure this is the place?" Jax asked, kicking at a charred timber.
Lira didn't answer. The air smelled of wet ash and rot, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something electric. Magic. She hadn't believed in it until now.
Flashback: Age 6
The third foster home smelled of cat piss and mildew. Mrs. Harlow's bony fingers dug into Lira's shoulder as she shoved her into the closet.
"Stay there till you learn some manners," she hissed, locking the door.
Darkness swallowed Lira, but she didn't cry. Crying attracted things.
Hours later, something scratched at the closet door. Not Mrs. Harlow. Claws on wood. Lira pressed her back to the wall as the door splintered, revealing glowing amber eyes. The thing lunged then recoiled, snarling, when the locket around her neck flared silver.
At dawn, Mrs. Harlow found her unharmed, the closet door shredded to ribbons. Lira's bags were packed by noon.
"Lira?" Jax's voice yanked her back. He held out a rusted music box, its hinges squeaking as he pried it open. Inside lay a brittle newspaper clipping:
MYSTERIOUS FIRE CLAIMS LOCAL FAMILY CHILD MISSING.
The date matched her first memory of foster care.
"Run, Lira. Don't look back."
She knelt, fingers sifting through damp debris. Something cold met her touch a floorboard hinge, warped by heat. Beneath it lay a hidden compartment, untouched by flames. Inside was a child's drawing: stick figures with fangs and claws, circled by a woman with silver eyes.
Scrawled in crayon: Mommy says hide.
Jax whistled. "Your mommy was a real charmer."
"She wasn't my mom." The lie tasted like ash.
Flashback: Age 10
Her fifth foster father's breath reeked of gin as he pinned her against the wall. "Freak," he slurred, thumbing the scars on her wrists. "Where'd you get these?"
Lira bit his hand until he bled. He backhanded her, but the blow never landed.
A shadow surged from the corner a wolf with molten gold eyes. It tore out his throat.
Lira ran, the locket burning as the beast howled behind her.
Wind hissed through the ruins, carrying a faint hum. A lullaby. Selene's lullaby.
Lira followed the sound to the backyard, where a gnarled oak stood, its trunk etched with symbols. Wolfsbane and vampire's kiss vines coiled around the carvings, their thorns glistening black.
Jax paled. "That's… not normal."
She reached out, tracing the markings. The moment her blood smeared the bark, the tree split open with a crack, revealing a hollow filled with relics:
A dagger, its blade crusted in dried blood.
A journal, bound in wolfskin.
A ring, stamped with the same V as her locket.
Jax exhaled. "Well, that's terrifying."
Lira pried the journal open. On the first page, Selene's elegant script curled in faded ink:
If you're reading this, the prophecy has begun. Forgive me, Lira. They must never know what you are.
Flashback: Age 14
The group home's basement was freezing. Lira huddled under a moth-eaten blanket, locket clutched tight. Next to her, Danny showed her his bite mark.
"They're real, y'know. The wolves. They're coming for us."
That night, Danny vanished. Only his glasses remained, shattered on the floor.
The matron blamed runaways. But Lira saw the claw marks on the window.
She packed her bag and fled, the locket's chain cutting into her neck like a leash.
Back in the present, Lira tucked the journal into her coat. Her hands were steady. Her breath was not.
"We need to go."
Jax eyed the dagger. "Aren't you gonna…?"
"Now, Jax."
They walked in silence. The locket felt heavier than before, its engraving biting into her skin.
At her apartment, Lira poured two shots of whiskey, voice flat. "You knew."
Jax downed his drink. "Knew what?"
"This wasn't just a foster home." She slammed the journal on the table. "You've been digging into my past. Why?"
He hesitated. Then he pulled up his sleeve.
A fresh bite mark oozed along his forearm jagged, inhuman.
"They're coming for you, Lira." His voice was hoarse. "And I'm running out of time."