The bathroom light hummed softly above her, a thin, flickering strip that cast a pale glow over the sink. Seraiya gripped the porcelain edges hard enough that faint cracks spidered beneath her fingers. Her breath fogged the mirror, but the reflection staring back at her didn't look winded at all.
She wiped the glass with the heel of her palm.
There she was.
And yet… not.
Her eyes, normally golden, shifted subtly as she watched. A ripple of orange flickered through them, then a deep, impossible crimson, before settling back into the familiar hue. Her pupils dilated and contracted too fast, too sharply. Her skin looked the same, but she could feel the difference beneath it: the hum of magic, the coil of the wolf within, the cold, razor-edged hunger of something undead.
She leaned closer.
"Who the hell are you now?" she whispered.
The mirror didn't answer. It only reflected the truth she was trying so desperately to outrun.
Her throat tightened. She swallowed, and the sound echoed in her ears like a drumbeat. Everything somehow seemed even louder now, her heartbeat, the dripping faucet, the distant footsteps of her pack moving through the house. She could hear the wind outside brushing against the siding. She could hear someone breathing two floors down.
She thought wolf hearing was bad... this was so much worse.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Focus.
But the moment she did, she felt it again: the thrum of power in her veins, the way her magic curled like smoke around her ribs, the restless pacing of the wolf inside her, and beneath it all… the hunger.
The vampire part of her was quiet, but present. Watching. Waiting.
She opened her eyes again and stared at her reflection.
"Am I just a blood-sucking vampire now?" she asked the empty room. Her voice cracked, and she hated it. "Is that what I've become?"
Her fangs, small, sharp, newly formed, pricked her lower lip as if answering, before retracting to their more normal looking form.
She shook her head, gripping the sink harder.
"No," she muttered. "No, I'm not just that."
Her gaze hardened.
"Then what? An alpha wolf?" She let out a humorless laugh. "I've been that the last 3 year of my life."
Her wolf surged in agreement, a low, proud growl rumbling through her chest. Her muscles tensed, ready to shift, ready to run, ready to tear through the world if she commanded it.
It was more active now. Like becoming the tribrid awakened it as well.
She exhaled slowly.
"And a witch," she whispered.
Her fingertips tingled, and a faint shimmer of gold light danced across her knuckles. The bathroom bulb flickered again, reacting to her pulse.
She stared at her hands... hands that had healed, protected, fought, killed. Hands that now held the combined strength of three worlds.
"Am I truly any of them?" she asked softly.
The silence pressed in around her.
She lifted her chin, meeting her own gaze head-on.
"Yes..." she said, voice steadier. "I'm all damn three."
She wasn't broken. She wasn't corrupted. She wasn't a mistake.
She was the culmination of everything she had survived, everything she had inherited, everything she had fought for.
She was the tribrid.
And that terrified her more than anything.
A knock sounded at the door.
Seraiya stiffened, instinctively shifting her weight, ready to defend, attack, flee... she wasn't even sure which instinct belonged to which part of her anymore.
"Seraiya?" Daemon's voice drifted through the wood, low and steady. "You good in there?"
She closed her eyes. Of course it was him. He always seemed to know when she was spiraling, even before she did. But he was still her father.
"I'm fine," she lied.
"Bullshit," he replied immediately.
She huffed a breath, half-annoyed, half-grateful.
"I just need a minute... Dad"
"You've had thirty," he said. "And I'm not trying to rush you, but… we need to talk."
She stared at her reflection again. Her pulse quickened. The hunger stirred.
She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on her face. It didn't help. She still felt too warm, too aware, too alive and dead at the same time.
Another knock, softer this time.
"Seraiya," Daemon said, voice gentler. "I'm here because you need help. And because I'm the only one who can give it."
She froze.
Help.
She hated needing help.
But she hated the alternative more.
"What kind of help?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
A pause.
Then, "I'm going to teach you how to control your vampire urges."
Her stomach dropped.
She gripped the sink again, knuckles white.
Of course. Of course that was why he was here. He had been one for what 1000 plus years? He knew better than anyone the difficulty of a transition especially for someone who started off as a wolf.
She swallowed hard.
"I don't know if I can."
"You can," he said firmly. "And you will. But you're not doing it alone."
She stared at the door, heart pounding.
He meant it. She could hear it in his voice. He wasn't being sarcastic or funny or just sticking around to be entertained like he previously was. He had genuine concern for her at this time. And he truly wanted to help his only daughter.
He was steady.
Grounded.
Unshaken.
She took a slow breath and reached for the doorknob. Her hand trembled. She hated that he might see it, the fact that she was weak right now.
When she opened the door, Daemon stood there leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable but eyes soft. His grey wolf aura clung to him like a shadow, but so did something else, something ancient, something that understood exactly what she was going through.
He looked her over once, taking in her damp face, her trembling hands, the flicker of red still lingering in her eyes.
"You're spiraling," he said quietly.
She bristled. "I'm adjusting."
"Spiraling," he repeated.
She glared at him, but he didn't flinch.
"Seraiya," he said, stepping closer, "you just became the most powerful supernatural being in existence. You're allowed to freak out."
"I'm not freaking out."
"You're talking to your reflection like it owes you rent."
She blinked.
"…Okay, maybe a little."
He snorted. "A little."
She crossed her arms. "this isn't funny."
"I know." His voice softened. "That's why I'm here."
She looked away, jaw tight. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"I do," he said, stepping close enough that she could feel the warmth of him. "Because you're still you. Tribrid or not."
She swallowed, throat tight.
He held out his hand.
"Come on," he said. "Lesson one starts now."
She hesitated. "What's lesson one?"
His lips curved into a small, knowing smirk.
"Not running from what you are."
Her heart thudded.
She stared at his hand, steady, patient, waiting.
Then she placed hers in his.
His fingers closed around hers, grounding her instantly.
"Good," he murmured. "Now let's get to work."
As he led her down the hall, Seraiya glanced back at the bathroom mirror one last time.
Her reflection stared back. stronger, sharper, more dangerous than ever.
But for the first time since the transformation, she didn't look like a stranger.
She looked like someone becoming exactly who she was meant to be.
TO BE CONTINUED