POV: Everly
Everly woke to light. Not soft or golden, but cold and silver, the kind that shimmered off frost and bone. It poured through the high windows of the healer's quarters, casting pale rings across the stone floor.
Her body ached in strange places, deep in her joints, behind her eyes, like her bones had rearranged themselves in the night.
She didn't sit up right away, because she didn't trust the air. Her breath felt heavier in her chest. Each inhale pulled at something new inside her, something that didn't belong or maybe always had, just locked too deep to touch.
"You're not dying", Selene whispered. "You're becoming."
Everly blinked slowly, focusing on her hands. The skin along her fingers had flushed with faint silver, like moonroot sap laced through her veins. When she flexed them, the ache returned. It wasn't sharp, but it stretched like she was outgrowing herself.
She forced herself upright, the cot creaking beneath her weight. Pain danced through her ribs. Her heartbeat had changed. The thumps were not faster. It was fuller.
She staggered toward the small mirror across the room, bracing herself against the wall. Her reflection met her with a quiet horror in which her eyes were too bright, skin too pale, something shimmering just beneath the surface.
She looked like she'd been hollowed and filled with starlight. She looked otherworldly.
Selene's voice pressed again, steadier now. "The ones who pay attention will sense it soon. But the rest will lie to themselves until it breaks them."
Everly exhaled shakily. "What is happening to me?"
"The seal is thinning. The part of you they buried is waking."
She didn't ask what part. She already knew Selene wasn't talking about herself. A sudden pressure bloomed in her chest, but it was not Selene nor herself. Something that is older and colder. The silver veins in her arms pulsed once, sharply, and a rush of cold wind swept through the closed room.
Candles flickered, a vase tipped over, and Everly heard something. Not quite words, but chimes in her mind, high and crystalline.
Titania.
The name came without warning, but with certainty. Everly stumbled backward from the mirror. Her back hit the wall. The chimes faded, but the presence remained watching and waiting.
Selene's tone shifted, "She feels you now. Not just through dreams. Not just through the garden."
Before Everly could speak, the door opened with a purpose without slamming or creaking and Spirit stepped through.
Of course she did. Everly stiffened, but Spirit raised a hand, calm as ever. "You're still in one piece," she said. "Mostly."
"What's happening to me?" Everly asked, voice raw.
Spirit tilted her head. "A better question would be what did they try to keep you from becoming?"
Silence stretched between them. The wind had stilled again, but the air still hummed with tension. "Am I… shifting?" Everly asked.
Spirit's smile was faint. "Not fully. Not yet. But your wolf isn't the only thing that answers the Moon Goddess."
Everly's breath hitched. "I don't understand."
"You will. Pain makes sure of that." Spirit moved to the window and looked out, her posture loose, almost casual. "They'll come for you soon. Not because they care. Because they're curious."
Everly felt the knot tighten in her stomach. "I'm not ready."
Spirit glanced back, eyes gleaming faintly. "No one is. That's why they cage us while we're small." She took a brief pause, looking out the window pondering her thoughts, "But you? You're running out of space."
Selene pressed like a second spine behind her ribs, strong and bracing for something big.
Everly clenched her fists, "I don't know who I am anymore."
"You're not supposed to," Spirit said. "You're supposed to choose."
Before Everly could respond, Spirit was already stepping backward into the shadows. "You'll feel her soon. Not just in dreams. Not just in pieces." Spirit whispered, "Titania is not a whisper. She is the scream they tried to silence." Then she was gone.
The room fell quiet again, but Everly no longer felt alone. She pressed her palm to the stone floor, grounding herself. It pulsed beneath her touch. It was faint, almost like a breath.
Magic.
Her magic.
Not borrowed.
Not given.
Inherited.
Selene's voice came soft and steady, "We are waking. All of us. And they won't be ready."
Everly rose slowly, joints cracking, heart steadying. She walked to the window where Spirit had stood and looked out at the dawn. The sun was trying to rise, but the moon still lingered low, swollen, pale.
She didn't smile. She didn't cry. She simply whispered to herself, 'I don't belong to them… not anymore.'