The morning sunlight streamed through the narrow windows of the forge, casting long shadows across the tools scattered on Seren's workbench. The silver scar on her arm caught the light, gleaming faintly as if it had a life of its own. She couldn't stop staring at it.
It wasn't just the scar. Everything felt... different. The air seemed heavier, alive with scents she'd never noticed before. She could hear the faint rustling of leaves outside, the distant chirping of birds. Her body hummed with a strange energy, and her thoughts were sharper, faster, as though she were seeing the world through new eyes.
But beneath it all was the pull—a low, insistent tug in her chest that she couldn't ignore. It wasn't painful, but it was impossible to dismiss, as if an invisible thread tied her to something far beyond the forge walls.
"Focus," she muttered to herself, gripping a hammer with trembling hands.
The door creaked open, and Ferris stepped inside, his heavy boots thudding against the stone floor.
"You're up early," he remarked, his gaze flicking to her arm.
Seren quickly tugged her sleeve down. "Couldn't sleep."
Ferris grunted, his expression unreadable. "Council sent a messenger this morning. They're expecting the weapons by dusk. Think you can handle it?"
"Yeah," Seren replied automatically. But her heart wasn't in the work, and she knew Ferris could see it.
"Something's eating at you," he said after a long pause. "Don't let it fester. You've got enough to deal with without dragging your own demons along for the ride."
She didn't respond, and Ferris didn't press her. He just nodded toward the blades lined up on the rack. "I'll check the edges. You get the hilts ready."
Seren worked in silence, her hands moving on autopilot. The pull in her chest grew stronger with every passing moment, until it became unbearable. She set down the hilt she was working on and turned to Ferris.
"I need to step out," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Now?"
"It'll only be a minute," she lied.
Ferris frowned but didn't argue. "Don't wander too far."
She nodded and slipped outside, the cool morning air a welcome relief against her skin. The forest loomed in the distance, and without thinking, she started walking toward it.
The pull guided her, each step feeling more certain than the last. She moved through the trees, her senses heightened. The scent of pine and damp earth filled her nose, and the rustle of leaves sounded like whispers.
She didn't know how long she walked before she reached a clearing. The sunlight streamed down through the gaps in the trees, illuminating the figure standing in the center.
It was Alaric.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.
He turned to face her, his expression calm but unreadable. "I could ask you the same question."
"I…" She hesitated, unsure how to explain the pull that had brought her here.
Alaric's eyes flicked to her arm, and his lips twitched into a faint smile. "It's starting, isn't it?"
"What's starting?"
"The change."
She tensed, her mind racing. "What are you talking about?"
"You're marked, Seren. You can feel it, can't you? The pull of the pack. The call of the moon."
Her breath caught in her throat. "I don't—"
"Don't lie to me," he interrupted, stepping closer. "I've seen it before. You think you're the same person you were yesterday, but you're not. The wolf inside you is waking up, and it's only a matter of time before it takes over."
Panic rose in her chest. "No. I'm not like them."
"You don't have a choice," Alaric said, his voice low. "The Council won't care how it happened. Once they know, they'll come for you. And when they do, you'll need to decide—fight them or join them."
"I didn't ask for this!" she snapped.
"None of us did," he replied, his gaze steady. "But that doesn't change what you are."
The pull in her chest grew stronger, almost painful now. She clutched her arm, her breath coming in short gasps.
Alaric reached out, his hand firm on her shoulder. "You need to get control before it's too late. The first transformation is the hardest. If you let it consume you, there's no coming back."
Before she could respond, a low growl rumbled through the clearing.
They both turned, their eyes locking on the shadows at the edge of the forest.
A pair of glowing eyes stared back at them, and then another, and another.
"They've found you," Alaric said, his voice grim.
The wolves stepped into the light, their movements fluid and predatory. Seren's heart pounded as she counted at least six of them, their silver fur gleaming in the sunlight.
"What do they want?" she whispered.
"They're here to test you," Alaric replied, his voice steady. "To see if you're one of them—or prey."
The largest wolf growled, its gaze fixed on Seren.
"Run," Alaric said.
But she couldn't move. The pull in her chest was too strong, anchoring her in place as the wolves closed in.
And then, as the leader bared its teeth and lunged, Seren's body moved on instinct.
The world blurred, her vision sharpening, her senses exploding with clarity. Her nails elongated into claws, her muscles burned with power, and her own growl ripped through the air, louder and fiercer than she thought possible.
For a moment, everything was silent.
And then the pack howled in unison, their voices echoing through the forest as if in recognition.