The whispering trees had always been kind to her. Ever since she was a child, they had called to her with soft winds and rustling leaves, cradling her secrets in the hush of their branches. But today, they watched her — not with kindness, but curiosity.
Elara tightened the cloak around her shoulders, its silver lining catching what little light broke through the thickets of the forest. Her feet pressed into the damp earth, silent as a shadow. She wasn't meant to be here — not this deep in the Northern Wood, not alone. Not when the moon was already high and the world was shifting.
But she needed answers.
The village had stirred something in her. The people — their eyes, the way they moved — there was something in them. Something like her.
And then there was him.
She hadn't meant to remember his scent — that warm, wild thing threaded with pine and ash. But it clung to her memory, like a song she didn't know she knew. The boy from the forge. The one with the golden eyes and the voice that sounded like thunder wrapped in velvet.
She had asked around, carefully. His name was Kael.
Kael Ironhart.
A blacksmith's apprentice, a commoner, a nobody — and yet, her blood had stirred when she saw him. Her wolf had stirred. That was what terrified her most.
Elara paused, hand resting against the bark of an ancient oak. The air here was heavier, and not just with moisture. Something else moved through it — a presence, a watching. She closed her eyes and stretched out her senses.
There. The heartbeat.
Not hers. Not prey.
Predator.
The snap of a twig confirmed it.
"I know you're there," she said calmly, her voice low and even.
Silence.
Then a shape moved, slow and easy, out from behind the trees. A tall figure, cloaked, with sharp features and a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You shouldn't wander so far from the village," he said. "Especially not when you're new. The forest doesn't trust strangers."
"Neither do I."
The man tilted his head. "Fair enough. But you're not really a stranger, are you? Not to them."
Them.
Elara's jaw tightened. "Who are you?"
The man stepped closer, into the moonlight. His skin was pale, his hair dark and slicked back. His eyes were the wrong kind of familiar — silver, like hers, but colder. Wrong.
"Call me Silas."
Elara didn't move. "You're one of them."
Silas smiled, showing just the hint of teeth. "So are you. Even if you don't know it yet."
She lunged before he could finish the sentence, fingers shifting mid-air, claws extending. But he was gone before she touched him, only his voice remaining.
"Careful, princess. Not everyone in this forest wants you dead. But not everyone wants you alive either."
Then silence. The kind that presses against your ears, like something's listening too closely.
---
Elara stood there for minutes after, breath shallow. She hadn't told anyone who she was. Not even Kael. Not the old woman who ran the inn. Not the child who'd asked if her eyes were made of stars.
But Silas had known.
Back in the village, lights flickered in windows. People were settling in for the night, oblivious to the creature walking among them. Or maybe not oblivious. Maybe they were pretending, just like she was.
She made her way back, slower this time. The moon above cast silver ribbons over the path, and somewhere in the distance, a howl broke through the quiet.
Not a wolf.
A werewolf.
Her kind.
She wasn't alone. Not anymore.
And yet… she had never felt more hunted.
Elara crept back into the village with her hood drawn low, her heartbeat slowing as the familiar buildings came into view. Lanterns swayed gently outside doorways, casting golden pools of light across cobblestone paths. The inn stood quietly at the edge of the square, its shutters closed but a single candle burning behind one of the upstairs windows — her room.
She stepped inside, careful not to make noise. The innkeeper, old Mirelle, was dozing in her rocker by the fire, a half-finished knitting project dangling from her lap. Elara smiled faintly. The woman had taken her in without question, no names, no past required — just the quiet understanding that the girl was running from something, maybe toward something else.
Upstairs, she slid into her room and locked the door behind her. The moment the latch clicked, the tension she carried all night surged up again, pressing against her ribs. She paced for a while, stripping off the cloak and tossing it on the bed. Her eyes caught in the mirror — silver, glowing faintly in the moonlight. She hated mirrors. They always seemed to show more than just her reflection.
She hadn't shifted fully in weeks. Not since the incident in the Northern Court. Not since she ran. But tonight, under the forest's gaze, her wolf had surged closer to the surface than it had in months.
It hungered.
Not just for blood — but for truth, for belonging.
And for Kael.
That terrified her most of all.
---
The next morning dawned foggy and wet, the kind of day where sounds felt muffled and the world seemed half-asleep. Elara wrapped herself in a cloak and stepped out, drawn by a scent on the breeze — iron, fire, and something rich beneath it all.
She followed it to the forge.
Kael stood with his back to her, hammering metal on an anvil with rhythmic ease. The muscles in his arms flexed with each strike, his shirt damp from sweat despite the morning chill. Sparks leapt into the air around him like fireflies.
He didn't turn around when he spoke.
"You were in the woods last night."
Elara froze. "How do you know that?"
"I could smell you."
Her heart skipped. "You can smell me?"
Kael set down the hammer slowly and turned. His golden eyes were fierce, unreadable.
"You're not from here. But you're not like the ones in the castle either." His voice was rough, low. "What are you?"
For a moment, she didn't answer. She looked into his eyes and saw no threat there — only fire, only pain.
"Something in between," she whispered.
Kael stepped closer. "Your eyes... they change. Like mine."
Elara's breath caught. "You're—?"
He nodded once. "I've hidden it for years. My father told me to blend in, to never let them know. Said it would keep me alive."
"And your mother?"
"She didn't survive the last Blood Hunt."
The silence between them pulsed with old grief.
"I'm sorry," Elara said.
Kael met her gaze. "Why are you really here?"
She looked away. "I don't know anymore. At first it was to run. Then it was to find someone like me. And now…"
"Now?"
"Now I think I'm supposed to remember who I am. Before I forget completely."
Kael stepped even closer, so close she could feel the heat of his skin, the way the scent of him stirred her instincts. His voice was barely a breath.
"Then let me help you remember."
---
Later that day, Elara wandered through the market square. Villagers moved around her, chatting and trading as though the world weren't teetering on the edge of something ancient and wild. But she could feel it in her bones. Change was coming.
At the far edge of the square, a hunched figure caught her attention — a seer. The woman's stall was draped in strange cloth and charms, feathers tied to bones, crystals in chipped bowls. She sat still, waiting, as though she'd been expecting Elara.
"You carry the blood of queens," the seer said before Elara even spoke. "And the mark of betrayal."
Elara stiffened. "You know nothing about me."
"I know you were born beneath a red moon, with your mother's scream still echoing through the court. I know the prince who was promised to you is already dead. And I know the one who will save you wears no crown at all."
Elara's blood ran cold. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled, her teeth sharp as knives. "A warning. That's all."
Before Elara could ask more, the seer raised a bone-carved flute and blew a single note. The world blurred.
When Elara blinked again, the woman was gone.
---
That night, her dreams were not her own.
She stood in a field of fire, her dress torn, her skin bloodied. Wolves circled her, growling, eyes glowing with hate. A crown of ash sat on her head, crumbling with each breath.
Then Kael appeared — not as a man, but as a beast of flame and gold, his eyes locked on hers.
"Choose," he growled. "The throne or the pack."
And behind him, Silas waited in shadow, smiling with blood on his hands.
---you