The night air shimmered with tension as Ember stood in the woods alone, the pendant from the dream realm gripped tightly in her fist. The cursed moon loomed above, veiled by thinning clouds, its glow brushing the world in silver and red. Her heartbeat thumped like a war drum in her chest, her lungs heaving as power churned beneath her skin.
She had meant to walk it off the fear, the confusion, the intensity of what she'd seen. But the fire pulsing in her veins refused to be soothed. It didn't want peace. It wanted a release.
Flames flickered along her fingertips, wild and unpredictable.
"No," she whispered, clenching her hands. "Not now. Not here."
But her body didn't listen.
The pendant at her neck pulsed with heat, feeding the fire. It felt as though something ancient had awakened inside her a second soul clawing for dominance, for vengeance.
She stumbled forward, breath catching, and fell to her knees.
Her scream was swallowed by the wind, but the forest heard her.
And it answered.
Ronan sat upright in bed, sweat slicking his brow. He felt her pain across the bond like a jagged blade across his chest. Not just physical pain but also emotional. Primal. Terrifying.
He bolted upright, grabbing his shirt and boots, growling to his Beta as he rushed down the hall, "She's in the woods. Get the healers. Now."
Trees burst into flame around her. Not all at once just one by one, like candles lit by an unseen hand. Ember cried out, trying to snuff the blaze, but her control was unraveling. The power had turned on her.
"I don't want this!" she sobbed, arms shaking as fire crackled from her shoulders to her wrists.
But the truth clawed up from within:
She did want it.
Because this was her raw and unrestrained. No masks. No chains. Just the child of fire and fury she had always feared becoming.
Something moved behind her.
She spun, flames dancing across her arms like wings. Her eyes glowed molten gold, breath steaming in the air.
"Ember!" Ronan's voice pierced the chaos, steady but panicked.
She backed away. "Don't come closer."
"I will," he said, stepping forward anyway. "Because I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be," she snapped. The fire intensified. Trees groaned under the heat. "I can't stop it. I can't control"
"You can. You will." He reached for her.
"Don't touch me!"
But he did.
He stepped through the fire as it licked at his skin and wrapped his arms around her. Her flames flared, then recoiled like they recognized him. They hissed around his shoulders and waist, but did not burn. Not him.
Not her mate.
"You're not alone in this," he whispered into her hair. "You never were."
Her body shook, tears spilling down her cheeks as the power in her slowly began to settle. The pendant cooled. Her fingers stopped glowing.
But the guilt didn't fade.
They sat together by the stream where the fire had finally sputtered out. The trees were scorched. Smoke hung in the air. But Ronan didn't care.
"You've never lost control like that before," he said gently.
"Because I never let myself get close," she murmured. "Not to anyone. Not even you. Because I knew this would happen."
"You think I don't understand what it's like to fear your own strength?"
She looked at him. "You're an Alpha. You were born to lead. To fight. Everyone follows you."
"And you think that doesn't come with its own burdens?" He touched her cheek. "Every day, I wake up wondering if the strength I was given will be enough to protect the ones I love. Or if I'll become the monster my enemies believe me to be."
Her throat tightened. "So what do we do with this fire?"
He smiled softly. "We learn to wield it together."
That night, Ember dreamed again but this time, she wasn't alone.
The version of herself that had appeared in the silver field returned, standing by the burning trees of her nightmare. But now there was someone beside her: a child.
A little girl with deep crimson eyes and dark curls, standing barefoot in the ashes, humming to herself.
"Who is she?" Ember asked.
The dream version of herself older, fiercer tilted her head.
"She's the future," she said. "Yours. Ours."
Ember reached out, and the child looked up.
"You don't need to be afraid of the fire," the girl whispered. "You are the fire."
And just like that, Ember woke up with a gasp.
The bond flared hot in her chest, and for the first time, she didn't panic.
She breathed.
Over the next few days, Ember trained harder than ever. Not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, spiritually. With Ronan's help and the reluctant guidance of the pack's oldest healer, Mistress Veyla, she began to understand the magic within her. The bloodline that had been dormant. The curse of the moon, which wasn't really a curse at all, but a warning.
Flame-born wolves didn't just burn enemies.
They also burned truths.
They burned through lies.
And if she let it, her fire could show her who she really was.
But not everyone was thrilled by her growth.
The council watched warily. Whispers stirred through the village. Some saw her power as a beacon. Others saw it as doom.
And in the distance, something darker stirred.
A shadow that felt too familiar.
"Something's coming," Ember said one evening as she and Ronan stood on the ridge. "I can feel it."
He nodded. "I've felt it too. Since the night of the cursed moon."
"A challenge?"
"Worse. A message."
Ember looked at him, the wind brushing her hair back. "From who?"
He didn't answer at first. Then he said slowly, "Someone who shouldn't be alive."
The words sent a chill down her spine.
And suddenly, the fire that had once felt like her enemy seemed like her only defense.
Because something was on the horizon.
And it knew her name.
---
As Ember embraces her power, her dreams grow more prophetic and more terrifying. But when a figure from the past threatens to return, will her fire be strong enough to protect the pack, or will it consume everything she loves?