Callista arrived home that evening to an eerily quiet house. Her mother was nowhere to be found. The air inside felt heavy, as though the walls held secrets she wasn't ready to uncover.
With a sigh, she made her way to her room, closing the door behind her. She hesitated by the window, staring at the spot where she had seen Lucien last night. She touched her lips thinking back to the hot kiss they shared, It had only been a few hours, yet an unfamiliar ache settled in her chest. She missed him. The thought made her frown. How could she miss someone she barely knew? Someone whose presence both intrigued and terrified her?
Shaking the thought away, she climbed into bed. The warmth of the sheets did little to soothe the restlessness inside her, but eventually, exhaustion won. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted into a deep sleep.
---
In her dream, she stood at the edge of a river. The water was calm, reflecting the soft glow of the moon. A gentle breeze rustled the trees, carrying with it a whisper of something… ancient. She looked down at her reflection and gasped. Her eyes weren't their usual shade—they glowed, a soft silver hue pulsating within them.
Then, from the shadows, it appeared.
A white wolf, its presence both majestic and haunting. Its fur was unlike anything she had ever seen—pure white with golden streaks running along its back, shimmering under the moonlight. But it wasn't just its beauty that captivated her; it was its eyes. They held a depth that spoke of wisdom, of knowing.
The wolf took a step forward, its gaze locked onto hers.
"Who… who are you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The wolf simply stared, unblinking. Then, in a voice that echoed within her mind, it spoke.
"You are not ready yet. But soon, you will be."
A wave of energy rushed through her, as if something inside her was awakening. Before she could respond, the dream began to dissolve, the image of the white wolf fading into darkness.
---
Callista bolted upright in bed, her breathing ragged. Her skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her heart pounded against her ribs.
"What… what was that?" she murmured, gripping the sheets tightly.
A part of her wanted to dismiss it as just another strange dream, but something told her it was more than that. It felt real. Too real.
She glanced toward the window again, her mind racing with questions. Who was the white wolf? And what did it mean that she 'wasn't ready yet'?
One thing was certain—she needed answers. And the only person who might have them was her mother.