The pendant — yeah, that stupid obsidian crescent — felt like an actual rock in Evangeline's hand. Not magic. Not humming. Just... heavy. And not because of its weight, really, but because of his. Her dad's. Some legacy she never signed up for.
She sat alone, perched on a cold slab at the edge of the training clearing, the dawn making weird patterns on that black stone. All those fairy tales made relics sound so dramatic — glowing, singing, secret voices.
Honestly, the last few days had been hell. Kieran shutting her out, her body turning inside out with her first shift, that second mate bond (seriously, what the hell?), her mom's secrets, and now the whole Moonborn mess. Red wolf? Sure. Why not throw that in the blender too.
She felt like a cracked egg — empty and overflowing at the same time.
"Hey, you alive?"
She jumped a little. Hann, with his perpetual resting grump face, ambled over and flopped down next to her like he owned the place. He dropped a bundle wrapped in cloth on the rock between them.
"What's that?" she asked, poking at it.
"Breakfast. Because you seem to think wolves run on air. Newsflash: they don't. Eat." He didn't even look at her, just stared out at the trees like some brooding forest spirit.
She snorted, but unwrapped the food anyway. "Thanks, I guess."
For a while, they just sat there, letting the morning noises pass by — the sound of pots, someone yelling about burnt bacon, the river splashing in the distance. It wasn't home exactly. But it was starting to feel less foreign.
After a bit, Hann grunted, "You're different."
She blinked at him. "Different how?"
"You got some bite now. Like you finally decided to stop being a ghost."
She touched the crescent with her thumb, not sure what to say. "I'm not sure I'm ready for… any of this."
"Nobody's ever ready. Don't matter. You're not the same girl who came stumbling in here, that's for damn sure."
A beat of silence. Then, softer, she admitted, "I can feel her sometimes. My wolf. Like she's pacing around, waiting for me to get with the program."
He nodded, totally unfazed. "Maybe try listening, then."
Evangeline chewed her lip. "It freaks me out."
"Good. That means it's real. Power isn't supposed to be all sunshine and singing birds. It's supposed to scare you a little. Means you actually care what you do with it."
She let that sit for a minute. Maybe he was right. Or maybe he was just old and grumpy and full of weird forest wisdom. Either way, it made sense.
Later, when training rolled around, she went hard. Harder than she ever had. She wasn't just learning how to swing a stick or dodge a punch — she was fighting for herself. For her body. For that howling, hungry wolf inside her. Hann didn't give her an inch. Silas lurked in the background, impossible to read, but she could feel his gaze on her.
By night, she was wrecked — sweaty, grass-stained, breathless. She flopped backward and just laughed, some wild thing bubbling up that she didn't even recognize. Stronger now. Not just muscle — heart, too.
Then, when the moon was riding high and everyone else was settling, Evangeline wandered to the treeline. Different this time. Not running. Not hiding. Just listening.
And then — it happened.
The shift hit slow, like a tide washing in. Her skin shimmered, bones rearranging, fur bursting out in a flood of deep red. No screaming. No panic. Just this wild, electric freedom.
She stood — no, she was the red wolf now. Tall under the moon, eyes burning, body alive with power and something ancient. She howled, long and fierce, and the sound ripped through the camp. She heard them answer — one voice was Silas. But hers? Hers drowned them all out.
Something was waking up. Not just in her — not just some bloodline magic or whatever. The world itself was listening.
She wasn't anyone's leftover, anyone's secret. Not just a cast-off mate. Not just a girl with too many shadows.
She was Evangeline.
And, honestly? This was where the real story started.