Aurelia sat by the narrow window in her quarters, knees drawn up to her chest, her breath fogging the glass. Outside, the sky was a canvas of stormclouds and moonlight. Inside, the collar around her neck pulsed with an unnatural chill, like the metal was breathing—alive.
She touched it cautiously. The runes etched into the iron glowed faintly under her fingers, shifting ever so slightly, as though reacting to her thoughts.
"You were made to suppress me," she whispered. "So why do I feel stronger every day?"
No one had answers. Not even her. But something inside was changing. The last few days had blurred into a haze of broken sleep and jagged dreams—visions that weren't hers, memories that didn't belong to this time. Her wolf stirred constantly now, ever-present and restless, as if sensing a door slowly creaking open inside her soul.
The collar had once muffled that presence. Now, it felt like it was feeding it. Amplifying something buried deep in her blood—something ancient and wild. She didn't just shift more easily now; she felt more. More connected. More aware. And sometimes, when her eyes closed, she saw things. Echoes of another life. Wolves with burning eyes. Stone circles drenched in moonlight and blood. Fire licking the sky, roaring louder than any scream.
And always, at the center of it all: a glowing wolf and a voice she couldn't understand.
She shivered, not from cold, but from knowing.
Unseen, Kaelen stood in the corridor just beyond her door, watching through the narrow crack of light. Arms folded, jaw clenched, he didn't dare step inside. He told himself it was caution. Strategy. But the truth settled heavier than armor on his shoulders.
She was different now.
Even the way she sat—still and silent—radiated power. Not the kind you had to flaunt. The kind that hummed beneath the surface, coiled and waiting. She was no longer simply a prisoner. She was a presence. One the walls of Ironfang Keep could barely contain.
Kaelen's brows drew together. He'd fought gods and monsters. Lost brothers. Buried kings. And yet nothing unnerved him like the pull he felt when she was near.
"She should terrify me," he muttered. "So why the hell can't I stay away?"
The court had noticed it too. Whispers grew bolder. Loyalty frayed. And now, even Renna—trusted blade and voice of the old guard—had called a council.
In the war hall, the air crackled with tension. Torches flickered against stone walls as a circle of warriors murmured uneasily. Renna stood at the center, her eyes sharp as steel, arms behind her back.
"She's destabilizing the pack," she said bluntly. "This isn't about mercy anymore. It's about control. She's shifting. Stronger. Wilder. The others sense it. Some are afraid. Some… aren't. That's more dangerous."
Kaelen sat on the throne, back straight, expression unreadable. But his silence was louder than any growl.
"She's not one of us," Renna continued. "She never will be. You're risking everything."
"I know what I'm doing," Kaelen said, standing. His voice was calm, but the storm beneath it rippled. "And she's mine to deal with. Not yours. Not the council's."
"You've made her a symbol," Renna said. "Whether you meant to or not."
"Then let them see her. Let them see what she becomes."
Renna didn't flinch. "And when she turns on us?"
Kaelen turned away. "I already made my choice."
Moments later, the war hall doors slammed open.
Aurelia strode in, her eyes lit not by rage, but purpose. She didn't wait for permission. Didn't care who was watching. Kaelen's eyes snapped to her as the council murmured behind him, shocked by her audacity.
She marched across the room like she owned it. Like she'd been born to walk those stones.
"Why haven't you killed me?" she demanded.
Kaelen blinked. "What?"
"Everyone here wants me dead. Especially you. So why am I still breathing?"
He stepped down from the platform, each footfall echoing.
"You think I don't ask myself that every godsdamned day?"
"Then give me the truth," she snapped. "What am I? A threat you're studying? A weapon you're too afraid to use? A mistake you can't bring yourself to erase?"
For a moment, he said nothing. The silence between them thickened until even the shadows seemed to lean in.
Finally, his voice came—low, rough.
"I haven't killed you because… I don't want to."
Aurelia faltered, just slightly. "That's not good enough."
"It's all I have." His gaze locked with hers. "And I don't know if it's because I see something in you… or because I see too much of myself."
Her breath caught. The space between them pulsed with unspoken things—grief, rage, want.
"This is wrong," she said, softer now. "You shouldn't feel anything for me."
"I know," he replied. "But I do."
And that was the worst part.
That night, Aurelia didn't sleep. When she finally drifted into a restless haze, the dream found her again—but this time, she wasn't on the outside.
She stood in the heart of the fire.
The sky above her burned gold, and around her, the trees whispered in languages she didn't know. At the center of a stone circle stood a massive wolf with eyes like suns. Its fur shimmered like embers. When it opened its mouth, the words came not in sound, but sensation—an overwhelming rush of power and purpose.
Her collar burned against her skin.
She gasped and sat up, back arched in pain.
Lightning surged through her veins. The collar sparked violently, glowing white-hot. She hit the floor, clawing at her neck, the runes cracking beneath her fingertips. Pain tore through her, primal and raw. But deeper than the pain, something else stirred.
Something waking.
Kaelen burst through the door, breathless, sword in hand. But the sight of her—writhing, glowing, radiant with power—stopped him cold.
"Aurelia!" he dropped the blade and knelt beside her.
She turned to him, eyes glowing, voice layered with something other.
"The collar," she rasped. "It's not a prison. It's a key."
And then her body stilled. Her breath slowed. Her skin shimmered faintly. The transformation wasn't complete—but neither was it human.
Her eyes locked onto his. No longer the same woman. Not entirely.
"It's waking me up," she whispered.
Kaelen stared, throat dry, heart pounding.
She wasn't just shifting. She was becoming.
And his wolf—dormant for so long—stirred in response. It didn't feel like danger.
It felt like destiny.