The training grounds echoed with the harsh clang of steel and the heavy thud of boots against packed earth. Ember stood at the edge, arms crossed, watching as Ronan fought off three warriors at once. His form was fluid, lethal, and commanding. Every slash, every pivot, every breath Alpha to the bone.
And yet… it wasn't him she was thinking about.
It was herself.
Because deep in her blood, the same Alpha instincts surged brutal, unrelenting, dominant. But she had never been taught to lead with aggression. She was raised to hide, to survive, to endure. Her power had always been a secret. A curse to keep buried. Until now.
Now, the world wanted her to pick a side.
Alpha or Omega?
Leader or servant?
Monster or savior?
"You're glaring like you want to fight someone," Ronan said as he approached, chest glistening with sweat.
She blinked, pulled from her thoughts. "Maybe I do."
He tossed her a practice blade. "Then don't think. Move."
She caught it easily and stepped into the ring.
They circled each other, energy crackling between them like the first spark before a wildfire. Ember's muscles tensed, fire singing beneath her skin, but she refused to let it out. Not yet.
Ronan struck first a clean sweep toward her shoulder. She parried. He twisted, spun, and lunged, but she matched him, blow for blow. The others stopped to watch. Alpha sparring was rare. Alpha couples sparring? Unheard of.
"Trying to prove something?" he panted after their fifth exchange.
"Trying to remind myself who I am," she replied.
He grinned, challenging. "And who's that?"
She didn't answer with words. She answered with fire.
Her blade lit up, glowing white-hot, forcing Ronan to retreat. She advanced, eyes burning, power rising like a tide within her.
"I am both," she growled, slamming him back with a flare of flame that signed the training post behind him. "Alpha by birth. Omega by survival. But I'll burn any title they try to pin on me."
Ronan stared at her, breathing hard.
And he smiled.
Because he saw it too now.
She wasn't just his mate.
She was something more.
Later, as dusk settled over the pack grounds, Ember sat alone on the cliffs beyond the eastern ridge, her thoughts unraveling like smoke. The cursed moon hadn't risen yet, but its energy already coiled in the distance, waiting.
She could feel it, just beneath her skin, the pull of power that wasn't meant for anyone, not truly. It was chaotic, wild, ancestral. Her mother's fire and her father's legacy warred inside her like twin storms. One told her to burn. The other whispered to heal.
And still, the whispers came.
"Queen of ash… heart of flame… child of ruin..."
She turned sharply, but no one was there.
Except
"Kael?" she whispered.
A silhouette stood beyond the trees. Too tall to be Ronan. Too regal to be anyone else.
But when she ran to it he was gone.
Her father had been dead for years.
Hadn't he?
Back at the Pack Hall, Ronan sat in council with the Elders. They were growing nervous. Not just about Ember's growing strength but about what her presence meant.
"She is unstable," Elder Mire said. "We've seen the flames licking through her skin. She's bonded under the cursed moon. She walks in dreams not meant for this realm."
"She is our Luna," Ronan said coldly.
"No," the oldest of them rasped. "She is your mate. That is not the same thing as Luna. Not until the bond is sanctified under our rites."
Ronan stood, growling. "You want a ceremony. You'll get one. But understand this her power is not a threat unless you make it one."
"You would let her lead with Alpha blood?"
Ronan bared his teeth. "I would follow her into fire and trust that she'd bring me out whole."
The council said nothing.
They didn't believe it.
But they would learn.
One way or another.
That night, Ember curled under her blankets, exhausted and buzzing with adrenaline. As she drifted off, the mark on her hand pulsed again, and a wave of heat shot through her veins. She jolted up, eyes wide.
Her vision blurred.
The room twisted.
And suddenly, she wasn't in her bed.
She was in a field of silver grass beneath a crimson sky.
She stood across from a girl. Younger. Fiercer. With eyes like her own and a scar down her left cheek.
"I am your shadow," the girl said. "I carry the truth of your past and the blood of your future."
Ember took a step closer. "Who are you?"
The girl smirked. "The one you'll become when you stop trying to be soft for a world that only fears you."
"Is this another dream?"
The girl didn't answer. Instead, she held out a necklace, a pendant shaped like the cursed moon. Inside it, a drop of Ember's own blood floated, glowing red-gold.
"Take it," the girl said. "And wake up."
Ember did.
Gasping, clutching her chest.
And in her hand?
The pendant was real.
She stared at it, trembling.
This wasn't just a prophecy anymore.
It was a transformation.
The flames, the power, the visions none of it was a warning. It was a roadmap. And now, the question was no longer whether she could control what was inside her.
It was whether she should.
---
Now that Ember has unlocked an artifact from the dream realm and confronted a version of herself born from rage and power, will she choose to remain the heart of Ronan's pack… or rise to become something the world fears?