The Beast in Her Bones.
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The snow had begun to melt. Not from sunlight — there was none — but from the heat radiating off my body.
I could feel it deep in my bones.
Something was changing.
The wind no longer felt cruel. The shadows didn't scare me anymore. I had stopped counting my bruises. I wore them like armor now. Wounds turned to warnings. And the rogues? They had stopped whispering behind my back. Now they watched me openly — with curiosity… and a little fear.
It had been weeks since the test. Since the Alpha, Cain, took me under his twisted wing. Since I learned what real pain felt like. And what power could be born from it.
"Again," Cain barked.
I raised my blade.
We trained in a clearing outside the main camp. No distractions. Just the sound of metal clashing and breath turning to mist in the cold air.
My sword trembled from the cold and exhaustion, but I didn't drop it.
Cain lunged. I parried — barely.
"Too slow," he growled.
His next strike sent me to the ground, knees slamming into frostbitten soil.
I gritted my teeth. My palms were torn. My lungs screamed. My vision swam.
But I didn't stay down.
I rose, blood trickling down my chin, eyes locked on his.
He smiled faintly. "You're learning."
I didn't smile back.
He circled me like a predator. "Tell me, Aria… why haven't you shifted yet?"
The question stabbed deeper than his blade ever could.
"I don't know," I said, voice raw.
He raised an eyebrow. "Still no dreams? No voice in your head? No flicker of the beast?"
I shook my head slowly. "Nothing."
Cain studied me for a long time. "Then we need to wake her up."
I didn't ask how. I already knew. Pain. That was always the answer here.
That night, they threw me into the pit again — this time against two rogues.
No warning. No reason. Just survival.
They were fast, brutal, seasoned. One sliced my leg open with a blade. The other threw a punch that fractured my jaw. I went down hard.
For a moment, the world blurred into colorless agony.
And then… I heard it.
Not a voice. Not words.
A sound. A growl.
Inside me.
Low. Ancient. Violent.
My pulse spiked.
My body moved faster — sharper. I didn't think. I struck. I bit. I clawed. Something in me had snapped, broken loose. I wasn't fighting to survive anymore. I was fighting to dominate.
One rogue went down, clutching his neck.
The other backed away — too late.
My elbow cracked his nose. My fist slammed into his ribs. He fell.
Silence.
I stood, panting, soaked in blood — theirs and mine.
And the crowd?
They didn't laugh.
They stared.
Cain clapped once from above the pit. "She's close now."
Close to what?
Later that night, I sat alone at the edge of camp, staring at the moonless sky. My skin buzzed. My blood pulsed.
Something inside me… stirred.
Not warmth. Not peace.
Power.
Raw. Wild. Unshaped.
And it wanted out.
I closed my eyes and whispered to the wind, "Where are you?"
No answer.
Just silence.
But deep, deep down…
a pair of glowing eyes blinked in the darkness of my soul.
---
The next morning, I woke up drenched in sweat, my body aching in places I didn't know had muscles. My cot smelled of blood and burnt air. Something wasn't right.
I sat up slowly, heart pounding.
The moment my feet touched the ground, pain seared through my chest. Not external — internal. Like my ribs were being cracked open from the inside. My fingers twitched. My nails… were longer. Sharper. Just slightly.
My wolf was waking.
I clenched my jaw to stop the scream from ripping out.
The flap to my tent opened. Cain stepped inside.
He didn't say a word. Just looked at me, then tossed a thick fur cloak at my feet.
"Come," he said.
I didn't ask where.
I followed.
He led me past the outer rings of camp, deep into the forest — to a clearing I hadn't seen before. In the center was a massive stone altar, surrounded by runes scorched into the ground.
"What is this?" I asked, breath catching.
"Where rogues become monsters," he said. "Or gods."
I turned to him.
He didn't explain. Instead, he lit a torch and touched the flame to the symbols. They burst into blue fire.
And that's when the pain hit.
Not slowly. Not gently.
Like a thousand knives shredding through my bones.
I collapsed onto the stone, screaming. My back arched. My skin burned. My heart felt like it was exploding in my chest. I saw flashes — of wolves, of blood, of a girl standing alone in a field of corpses. Her eyes were mine.
And then — blackness.
When I opened my eyes again, night had fallen.
I was still on the altar. Naked. Covered in sweat, dirt, and blood.
But something was different.
I wasn't alone inside my mind anymore.
She was there.
A voice, low and guttural.
"I've waited long enough."
I gasped, clutching my chest. The voice echoed again — softer this time.
"You are mine… and I am yours. No more cages."
Cain stood over me, arms folded.
"You shifted."
I blinked. "I… didn't feel it."
"No," he said. "But we did."
He pointed to the trees.
Red eyes blinked back from the shadows — dozens of them. Rogues. Watching. Waiting.
"You called them," Cain said. "Without even howling. That kind of power? That's rare."
I shook my head, trembling. "I don't want power."
Cain laughed once. Cold.
"Too bad. You were born for it."
He helped me up and threw the cloak around my shoulders. As he walked me back toward camp, his voice lowered.
"You're changing, Aria. Your wolf is only the beginning."
I swallowed hard. "What's next?"
Cain smirked.
"Now… we teach you to lead."
—
The next few days were a blur of agony and rebirth.
My senses sharpened. I could hear the heartbeat of a snake two tents away. I could smell lies on someone's breath. I could run without touching the ground.
But more than that — they began to listen to me.
The rogues. The outcasts. The broken ones. They began to move aside when I passed. Some even nodded in respect. Others lowered their eyes.
I had become something more than a fighter.
I was becoming… a symbol.
A girl thrown out by her pack, left to die — now rising as a legend in the dirt.
Still, there were whispers.
"She's dangerous."
"She's cursed."
"She'll turn on us."
I ignored them.
But my wolf didn't.
She whispered in my head each night, darker and hungrier.
"They'll betray you too," she said.
"Not Cain," I whispered.
She laughed softly. "Even him."
I didn't want to believe her. Cain was brutal, yes — but he was the reason I was alive. The reason I could fight. The reason I was rising.
Still… her voice lingered.
That night, I stood in the center of the pit, sword in hand, breath misting in the cold.
Cain stepped into the ring across from me.
"Let's see how far you've come," he said.
I raised my blade.
We fought — fast, vicious, silent. No hesitation. Every strike was meant to kill. He disarmed me twice. I bloodied his lip. We danced on the edge of death.
And then he pinned me down, forearm at my throat.
"Lesson one," he growled, face close. "Never let anyone get this close."
I drove my knee into his gut, flipped him, and pressed my forearm into his throat.
"Lesson two," I whispered, eyes glowing gold, "don't assume you've won."
His expression changed. Not surprise. Not anger.
Something deeper.
Respect. Maybe even… fear.
He tapped the ground.
I released him.
As we stood, breathing hard, surrounded by silence, he looked at me differently.
"You're almost ready," he said.
"For what?" I asked.
His gaze darkened.
"To take back everything they stole from you."
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