A shroud of mist curled around Luna, thick and suffocating. Shadows danced in the periphery of her vision, indistinct figures moving just out of reach. Voices whispered, their words slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. The scent of damp earth filled her nostrils, familiar yet foreign, tinged with something metallic—coppery, like blood.
She ran, though she wasn't sure why. Her heart pounded in her chest, the air thick with tension. The moon above was a dull sliver, half-consumed by darkness. Then she saw them—figures cloaked in the night, red eyes gleaming like embers. A snarl cut through the silence, and suddenly, pain lanced through her body.
Luna gasped.
Her eyelids fluttered open to a blinding light. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled her lungs, and the steady beeping of machines drummed in her ears. Her body felt heavy, her limbs slow to respond. The dream—or was it a dream?—slipped away like water through her fingers.
"Luna?"
The voice was hesitant, thick with emotion. A figure leaned over her, dark hair dusted with silver, worry lining his face.
"Dad?" Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
He exhaled sharply, relief washing over his features. "You're awake."
Luna blinked, her gaze darting around the room. White walls. Fluorescent lighting. The sterile environment of a hospital. Panic tightened her chest. "Where—what happened?"
Her father hesitated, his hand tightening around hers. "You were in an accident."
Accident. The word echoed in her mind, hollow and incomplete. There was something missing—something important. "Mom?"
"She's here. She's stable."
The tension in her chest loosened, but only slightly. "I don't remember…" Her brows knitted together as she searched her mind for fragments of the event. Nothing. Only the memory of the road stretching ahead of them, her mother's voice humming along to the radio, the warmth of the car's interior. Then… nothing. A void where memory should be.
Her father's jaw tightened. "It's normal, sweetheart. The doctors said memory loss can happen after trauma. You need to rest."
Luna swallowed. Trauma. That word settled uneasily in her stomach. "What kind of accident?"
His grip on her hand was firm but gentle. "You were on the road, and… something happened. You lost control."
A spark of something—doubt, perhaps—flickered in her chest. It didn't make sense. Her mother was a careful driver, meticulous even. There had to be more to it, but the exhaustion tugging at her limbs made it difficult to press further.
The door creaked open, and a nurse stepped inside, her expression soft. "Good to see you awake, Luna. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck."
The nurse chuckled. "That's to be expected. You've been out for two days."
Two days.
Luna's fingers curled into the sheets. The dream—or whatever it was—clawed at the edges of her consciousness. The shadows, the red eyes, the pain. A whisper of something dark curling around her mind, just out of reach. But as she tried to grasp it, images flickered through her mind.
Running through the woods. The cold night air biting at her skin. A secret she never knew she carried. Ethan. Raziel. The prophecy. Her mother's desperate voice.
Her breath hitched. It wasn't just a dream—it was a memory. Everything she had experienced before waking up… it had felt too real. Too vivid.
The nurse continued to check her vitals, offering reassuring smiles and soft reassurances. But Luna barely heard her. The dream felt real. Too real.
Her father must have noticed the distant look in her eyes because he squeezed her hand. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe."
Safe. Another word that didn't sit right.
She forced a nod, even as unease curled in her gut.
**
Luna lay in bed long after her father had left the room, staring at the ceiling. The dream still haunted her, lingering like an unfinished sentence. The shadows. The snarls. The pain.
She closed her eyes, trying to piece it together.
A flash of silver. A guttural growl. Her mother's voice, sharp with fear. The sound of breaking glass. Ethan's name whispered in desperation. Raziel's piercing gaze.
Her breath hitched.
It wasn't just an accident. Something happened. Something dangerous.
A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. A doctor stepped inside, holding a clipboard. "Luna, how are you feeling?"
She hesitated. "Fine."
The doctor nodded. "Good. You had a mild concussion and a few fractured ribs, but you're healing well. Your mother's injuries were more severe, but she's stable. We're keeping her for observation."
Luna nodded, absorbing the information. "When can I see her?"
"Tomorrow, if everything looks good."
She nodded again, but inside, the unease grew.
Something was wrong.
Her fingers brushed the bandages on her arm. The pain was dull, distant. But the fear, the uncertainty—that was sharp.
She had to remember.
**
Outside Silverwoods Hospital, Ethan Blackwell sat on his motorcycle, his fingers drumming against the handlebar. He hadn't meant to come here, not really. But something gnawed at him—an instinct he couldn't shake. He had heard about the accident. Heard that Luna Samuels was in the hospital.
He shouldn't care. They weren't friends. Hell, they barely spoke. And yet, something about this unsettled him.
He exhaled, glancing at the entrance. There was no reason for him to be here. No reason at all.
With a sigh, he started the engine, the roar of it cutting through the night. He had enough to deal with—his father breathing down his neck about pack responsibilities, the whispers about the prophecy. About her.
And now, she was right there, just behind those hospital walls.
He tore out of the parking lot, pushing the thoughts away.
Luna would be fine. And whatever pull he felt toward her—whatever strange connection made him restless tonight—it was better ignored.
For both their sakes.
**
Luna shifted in her hospital bed, staring at the pale ceiling. She thought about school. About Silverwoods High and the normal life she had before this accident.
Or at least, the life she thought was normal.
Faces drifted through her mind—Camille, her best friend, who would probably bombard her with worried texts the moment she got her phone back. The teachers who droned on about calculus and history. And Ethan, the boy who always seemed like he carried secrets heavier than he let on.
She sighed, exhaustion pulling at her. But even as she closed her eyes, she knew sleep wouldn't come easy.
Because she wasn't just a girl in an accident.
And this wasn't over.