The wind howled through the valley, carrying the promise of rain. Aria stood alone in the northern clearing, the forest thick and quiet around her. She needed air—needed space. Her wolf still hadn't returned to her mind. The silence was unsettling.
She knelt by the river, palms pressed into the earth, drawing deep breaths to slow the swirl inside her. Her thoughts were heavy, clouded. Ever since she'd put on Dorian's necklace, the fatigue had grown sharper, more suffocating.
She pulled it off now, clutching it in her fist, unsure why her heart raced at the sight of it.
This doesn't feel like protection.
It feels like a cage.
Suddenly, branches snapped in the woods behind her.
Aria stood, alert. Before she could turn fully, a blur of black fur leapt from the trees—massive, snarling, a rogue wolf from beyond the territory lines.
It shouldn't have made it this far in.
Her breath caught in her throat. There was no time to shift.
It lunged.
Her wolf screamed from somewhere deep within—Move, fight, rise!
But Aria didn't move.
She burned.
With a roar that echoed across the clearing, a silver-blue shockwave exploded from her body, blasting outward in a perfect ring. Trees shuddered. Leaves tore from branches. The rogue wolf hit the ground mid-air, yelping, and scrambled away, tail between its legs.
The mark over her collarbone burned with light—brilliant, lunar, alive.
Aria stood trembling, staring at her own hands. They shimmered faintly, the way moonlight dances on water.
"What… was that?"
Dorian found her moments later, his face pale but smiling.
"I felt it," he breathed. "Every wolf within five miles did. Aria… that was power."
She turned to him, shaking. "I didn't try to do anything. It just… happened."
He stepped closer, brushing a leaf from her hair. "It means you're more than just a Luna. You're something greater."
But in his eyes, behind the awe, there was calculation.
Not love.
Purpose.
That night, her parents sat in silence after she told them what happened.
Her mother looked terrified. Her father looked amazed.
"That kind of force—without a shift? Without a spell?" he muttered. "You shouldn't be capable of that. No one is."
Her mother nodded slowly, voice barely a whisper. "Unless... she was chosen."
Aria's mark shimmered again under the candlelight, and for the first time, she believed it too.
But what was she chosen for?
And why did Dorian look so relieved?