The knock didn't come again.
He didn't need to.
The moment his voice faded from the other side of the door, the room felt… different. The quiet that once felt safe now carried an edge, like something had shifted just enough to remind me that I wasn't alone in this place.
That I had never truly been.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, my pulse still uneven from the remnants of the dream. No—not a dream. I refused to call it that. It had been too vivid, too deliberate, every detail carved into my mind with unsettling clarity.
The voice.
The light.
The wolf.
My chest tightened.
"You carry it."
The words echoed again, softer this time, but no less heavy.
"…what does that even mean?" I whispered to myself.
"Only one way to find out."
His voice came from just beyond the door, calm as ever.
I stiffened.
"You heard that?" I asked, moving toward the door, my hand hovering over the handle.
"I heard enough."
Of course he did.
For a second, I considered ignoring him—pretending I hadn't woken up, pretending none of this was happening. But that would change nothing. It wouldn't erase what I saw. It wouldn't quiet the strange, growing certainty that whatever was happening to me… had only just begun.
So I opened the door.
He stood exactly where I expected him to be—just outside, one hand resting lightly against the stone wall, posture relaxed but alert. His crimson eyes lifted to meet mine the moment the door moved.
And for a brief second—
Something in his expression shifted.
Not surprise.
Not concern.
Recognition.
"You saw something," he said.
It wasn't a question.
I hesitated, then stepped aside, letting the door open wider. "You might as well come in."
He paused.
Just slightly.
As if testing the space.
Then he stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the air change—subtly, but noticable. The room didn't reject him, didn't react like it had with me at the door. It simply… accepted him.
But not the same way it accepted me.
I could feel the difference.
He noticed it too.
His gaze flicked briefly across the walls, then to the window, then back to me. "It's responding well."
"That's what you're focused on?" I asked, folding my arms slightly. "Not the part where I might be losing my mind?"
"You're not," he said calmly.
"That's very reassuring coming from someone who lives in a mansion full of shadows that can get into my head."
A faint curve touched his lips—brief, almost amused.
"Fair," he admitted.
The moment passed quickly.
Then his expression shifted again, more serious this time.
"Tell me what you saw."
I hesitated.
Not because I didn't want to tell him—but because I didn't know where to start. The memory felt fragmented and overwhelming all at once, like trying to hold onto something that didn't want to be fully understood.
"It wasn't like normal dream," I began slowly. "I wasn't here. I was… somewhere else. Everything was made of stone, or something like it. And the moon—" I shook my head slightly. "It was huge. Too close. Like it was watching."
His eyes narrowed just slightly.
"Go on."
"There was a voice," I continued. "I couldn't see it, but it was everywhere. It said…" I hesitated, then forced the words out. "It said, 'She remembers.' And 'She awakens.'"
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Focused.
"And?" he prompted.
I swallowed. "It said something else. 'Blood calls to blood.'"
The moment the words left my mouth, something shifted in his expression.
It was small.
Subtle.
But I saw it.
For the first time since I met him—
He looked… concerned.
My heart skipped.
"…you know what that means," I said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze sharpening, studying me as if trying to see something beneath the surface.
"What else?" he asked.
"There was a reflection," I said, my voice softer now. "But it wasn't exactly me. It looked like me—but different. Stronger. And my eyes… " I shook my head. "They weren't normal."
"They're not now either," he said.
I blinked. "What?"
He lifted a hand—not touching me, but close enough that I felt the heat of it. "Your eyes," he repeated. "They change when your power surfaces."
A strange chill ran through me.
"I didn't notice."
"You wouldn't."
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my thoughts. "There was more. The ground started breaking, and there was light underneath it. And then…" My voice faltered slightly.
"And then?" he pressed.
"…a wolf," I said.
His hand stilled.
Not moving.
Not lowering.
Just still.
"Not like any wolf I've ever seen," I continued. "It was huge. Its fur—" I searched for the right word. "It wasn't just white. It was… glowing. Like it wasn't fully real."
Silence.
The kind that stretched too long.
"…and its eyes?" he asked quietly.
My chest tightened.
"They weren't gold," I said. "Or red."
"What were they?"
I hesitated.
Because even now, I couldn't fully describe it.
"…something else," I admitted. "Something stronger."
He lowered his hand slowly.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he turned away, pacing once across the room as if collecting his thoughts. I watched him carefully, my pulse beginning to pick up again.
"You know what it is," I said.
This time, I was certain.
He stopped.
But he didn't turn back immediately.
"…I know what it could be," he said finally.
"That's not the same thing."
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
I took a step forward. "Then tell me."
He turned then, his expression harder to read than before.
"Not yet."
Frustration flared instantly. "You keep saying that."
"And I'll keep saying it until I'm sure."
"Sure of what?" I demanded.
His gaze locked onto mine.
"That you won't break under the truth."
The words hit harder than I expected.
"I didn't break when I was rejected," I said sharply. "I didn't break when my own pack tried to kill me. What makes you think I'll break now?"
Something flickered in his eyes.
Respect.
Maybe.
Or something close to it.
"Because this," he said quietly, "isn't just about you."
My breath caught.
"…what does that mean?"
"It means," he continued, stepping closer again, his presence filling the space between us, "whatever you are… it changes things."
A chill ran down my spine.
"What things?"
"Everything."
Silence fell again.
But this time, it wasn't uncertain.
It was inevitable.
I swallowed, my hand unconsciously rising to my neck again, resting over the mark.
"…the voice said I wasn't broken," I said quietly.
His gaze dropped briefly to my hand.
Then back to my eyes.
"You're not," he said.
The certainty in his voice sent something strange through my chest—steady, grounding, unfamiliar.
"…then what am I?" I asked.
This time—
He didn't look away.
"You're something that shouldn't exist anymore," he said.
My heart skipped.
"And now that you do…"
His voice dropped slightly.
"…they'll come for you."
A chill settled deep in my bones.
"Who?"
He didn't answer right away.
But I already knew—
Whatever the answer was…
It wouldn't be simple.