The night after her dream of Nyx was unlike any other Selene had endured. Sleep offered no comfort, no peace. Instead, it felt as though her very blood had caught fire. Her veins burned, her bones ached, and her skin trembled with waves of heat that left her gasping.
She staggered away from the ashes of their fire, clutching her chest. Each heartbeat thundered like a drum of war, far too fast, far too heavy. Her wolf clawed inside her, frantic and restless, as though something ancient had awakened.
"Selene?"
Darius's voice cut through the dark. He appeared from the shadows, his scarred face unreadable, but his eyes sharp with concern. He reached for her, but she stumbled back, shaking her head violently.
"Don't—don't touch me," she rasped. "It's… it's inside me. Burning."
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold earth, clawing at the dirt as if it could ground her. Pain wracked her body—waves of it, rolling through her like the tide. It wasn't like shifting. Shifting had its agony, but it was familiar, a rhythm she knew. This was different. Alien. It was as though her flesh and spirit were being reforged into something new.
Darius crouched beside her, watching with narrowed eyes. "It's starting sooner than I thought."
She barely heard him over the roar of her pulse. "What… what's happening to me?"
"Nyx's fire," he answered grimly. "It's marking you. Making you hers."
Selene choked on a gasp. Nyx's words echoed in her skull: The fire is not a gift. It is a burden.
Her body convulsed. A scream tore from her throat, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the forest. The trees themselves seemed to shudder at the sound. Silver light burst from beneath her skin, racing along her veins like molten lightning.
Darius swore under his breath. He grabbed her shoulders, steadying her as her back arched violently.
"Breathe, Selene!" His voice was harsh but urgent. "Don't fight it. Fighting will only tear you apart."
She couldn't breathe. Each inhale felt like swallowing fire, each exhale like spitting ash. Her wolf howled within, a keening cry of both agony and awakening. Selene clawed at her own arms, trying to contain the light burning through her.
"I can't—I can't control it!" she sobbed.
Darius's grip tightened, grounding her. His face was inches from hers, his scar stark in the moonlight. "Then endure it. Survive it. That's the only control you need right now."
Another surge hit, stronger than the last. Silver fire erupted across her skin, glowing runes etching themselves along her arms, her collarbone, her throat. They weren't carved by blade or ink—they burned into being, as though branded by divine hands. The marks shimmered, pulsing with her heartbeat, alive.
Selene's scream split the air again. She collapsed forward, trembling violently.
The runes glowed brighter, and with them came visions—not soft dreams this time, but violent flashes. Wolves tearing each other apart beneath a blood-red moon. Her father standing on a battlefield, his hands soaked in blood. Lucian Hale turning away as she begged for help. Seraphina's cruel smile as flames engulfed the Blackthorn packhouse.
"No!" Selene cried, shaking her head wildly. "It's not real—it's not real!"
But the fire didn't care. The visions carved themselves into her mind, branding her soul as surely as the runes marked her body.
Darius held her through it, though his arms strained from the force of her convulsions. His expression remained grim but steady, a rock against her storm.
"You're seeing the truth," he muttered, his voice low but certain. "The fire shows what could be. What will be, if you're not strong enough."
Selene's nails dug into the dirt, tearing it apart. She tasted blood in her mouth from biting her own lip, but the pain was nothing compared to the inferno within.
"Why me?" she whispered hoarsely. "Why did she choose me?"
Darius didn't answer immediately. His gaze flicked over her glowing runes, his scarred face grim. "Because you were born to break the chains of wolves who've forgotten what power is meant to protect. You're the heir of something greater than Magnus Blackthorn's ambition. Greater even than Lucian's rejection."
His words barely reached her through the haze of agony. But something inside her clung to them, fragile as glass.
Another wave hit—this one so powerful she thought her bones might shatter. Her body arched, silver flames erupting in a blinding flash. Darius shielded his eyes, but didn't release her.
And then—silence.
Selene collapsed into his arms, trembling, gasping, drenched in sweat. The light dimmed, leaving faint silver etchings glowing faintly along her skin. The runes had settled into permanence, delicate and terrible in their beauty.
Her wolf stirred within her, no longer restless but watchful, as though waiting.
Darius lowered her carefully to the ground, brushing damp hair from her face. "It's done. For now."
Selene's lips parted, her voice little more than a rasp. "What… what am I?"
Darius met her gaze, his expression unreadable but heavy with meaning. "Marked. Chosen. Dangerous."
Tears welled in her eyes, though she tried to blink them back. "I didn't want this. I just wanted to belong. To be loved."
His scarred hand hovered above hers, hesitating before finally settling against it. His grip was rough, but steady. "You may not have been given the love you deserved, Selene. But you were given something else. Power enough to change the world—or destroy it."
She stared at their joined hands, at the roughness of his touch against her trembling fingers. His words terrified her, but also anchored her.
The fire still burned within, but now it was quieter, coiled, waiting. The runes glowed softly, like embers instead of infernos. She knew they would never fade.
Marked forever.
Selene closed her eyes, feeling the tears slip free. The pain had not left her—it had carved itself into her very soul. But beneath it all, a spark of resolve took root.
She might not understand the fire. She might not trust Nyx, or herself, or even Darius fully. But she had survived the marking.
And survival was the first step toward everything else.