The book was cold in her hands.
Heavy. Alive.
Sera ran her fingers along the faded leather, the ancient pages creaking as she opened them. Symbols she didn't recognize danced across the parchment—swirling glyphs that seemed to shift beneath her gaze, breathing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
She should have put it down.
But she couldn't.
Something deep in her bones—something older than memory—urged her forward.
Page after page, she flipped through until one stopped her cold.
It was a sketch. A woman—young, wild-eyed, draped in a long cloak of black fur—her hands raised to a crimson moon. Wolves circled her, kneeling at her feet.
Below it: a name written in an elegant, flowing script.
"Seraphina Blackthorn — Firstborn of the Moonblood Line."
Sera staggered back. The name echoed in her skull.
Seraphina.
Her full name.
Her real name?
She blinked down at the drawing again, at the wolf mark carved into the woman's wrist. She'd seen that mark before. In dreams. In flashes of memory. Even on herself—just below her collarbone—hidden beneath a beauty mark she'd always thought was ordinary.
She touched the spot instinctively.
It burned.
A soft whisper curled around her.
"Remember."
Elsewhere – Underground
Lucien stood before the pack's Seer, a woman older than time with silver-threaded dreadlocks and milky white eyes.
"You waited too long," she rasped.
"She wasn't ready," Lucien replied.
"She was born ready. You were the one hiding in fear."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "She's mine. I was protecting her."
"No, Alpha. You were protecting yourself."
The Seer placed her bony hand over his chest—right where his heart beat loudest.
"When she awakens fully, she will be more than your mate. She will be your mirror. Your reckoning."
Lucien looked away.
The Seer narrowed her gaze.
"Tell me… have you told her what happened the night her parents died?"
Lucien stiffened.
"You haven't."
The Seer stepped closer, her voice like ice.
"She'll remember soon. And when she does, she'll have to decide if her love for you is stronger than her thirst for justice."
Back at the Penthouse
Sera stood at the tall glass windows, moonlight slicing across her face as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The book lay open behind her, truths too big for her body to hold pressing against the walls of her sanity.
Her mother hadn't just died.
She'd been murdered.
By wolves.
By a rival pack.
No—by someone inside Lucien's own bloodline.
She didn't know all the details yet… but her instincts were screaming. The dreams, the visions, the mark—all of it was part of a forgotten legacy. One Lucien had kept from her.
Why?
She didn't know if she could confront him. Not yet.
So instead, she stepped out onto the balcony and tilted her head back toward the moon—no longer full, but still watching.
And then, without meaning to, she whispered the ancient word she'd seen in the book.
"Vassirah."
The wind howled.
Her skin prickled.
The mark over her heart pulsed once…
…and her eyes flashed silver.