*Rory – POV**
The first thing I noticed was the silence.
Not the kind you get in your room, or when people are whispering about you just outside the door.
This was deep. Ancient. Wrong.
I opened my eyes, but I wasn't in my room.
The bed, the wall filled with paintings and drawings—gone.
Instead, I was standing in the middle of a frozen forest, the trees looming like ghosts around me. Snowflakes drifted in slow motion, suspended in the air like they didn't belong to time at all. My breath came out in soft puffs, and I looked down to find myself barefoot, standing in the snow—
But I wasn't cold.
I turned in a circle.
"Hello?"
My voice sounded small.
And then I saw him.
A wolf—massive, orange fur, with eyes like electrifying yellow, like the ones I saw in the restroom—stepped from behind a tree.
My heart leapt, then settled strangely. I knew him.
Not like you know a friend, or even yourself.
I knew him like a memory you're not supposed to have.
Like a dream you keep waking from too soon.
"Aerie?" I whispered.
My wolf didn't answer immediately.
Then, his body shimmered—and before me stood a man.
Tall. Battle-worn. Dressed in the furs and leathers of an ancient time.
He had the same eyes. The same soul.
Aerie.
My wolf.
But this wasn't just his spirit.
This was *him.*
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice deep and rough—like gravel dragged through thunder. "Not yet."
"What is this place?" I asked, glancing around. "Am I dreaming?"
He hesitated. "No. This is a memory."
"Whose?"
He looked at me, pained.
"Mine. And yours."
The ground cracked beneath my feet, the snow splintering like glass. A pulse—like a drumbeat inside the earth—echoed beneath my ribs.
"I don't understand. What's happening to me? Why do I keep seeing her—the queen on the throne? Why do I *know* things I shouldn't?" My voice shook with frustration. "What *am* I?"
Aerie stepped closer.
"You're the vessel. The last hope. The one the Council never saw coming."
His eyes darkened.
"I was an Alpha. Once. Before they stripped me of my title. Before they tore my pack apart. I led a rebellion against the monarchy—a failed one. They executed me for it.
And in my final moments, the spirit wolves chose to save me—by placing me inside you."
I stumbled back.
"You mean… I'm *possessed*?"
"No."
His voice softened. "We're *bonded.*
You are you, Rory.
But you were born carrying the soul of a warrior who refused to die quietly."
"But why me?"
A wind swept through the forest. Trees groaned. The snow began to swirl faster now—like a storm awakening.
Aerie reached out, pressing a hand to my chest.
"Because of your blood. Because of who your mother is. Because of who *you* were… before all of this."
"Before?" I echoed.
His eyes softened—sad and proud all at once.
"They named you Rory to hide you.
But that's not the name you were born with."
The wind roared louder.
The forest was fading.
He leaned in and whispered a single word into my ear:
> "Selene."
And then he was gone.
---
I gasped awake.
I was back in bed, drenched in sweat, lungs heaving like I'd run a marathon. My heart beat like a war drum in my chest.
Beside me, someone stirred.
A woman I had never seen.
With vibrant orange hair—just like mine.
She looked like me, but older. Mid-twenties, maybe.
Her hand clasped mine instantly.
"Rory—thank the moon, you're awake."
I stared at her, wide-eyed, the storm still raging behind my ribs.
Everything around me was different.
The bed. The sheets. The room—bigger, filled with luxury.
My voice came out hoarse.
"Who are you?"
Her face went still. Drained of colour. Her hand slipped from mine.
"I am your mother," she said.
And I gasped.