The first time I woke up in the woods, I thought I was dreaming.
Cold earth pressed against my palms, damp with dew. My breath came out in white clouds, and the night smelled of iron and pine. I blinked at the shadows of trees stretching into the sky like ribs of a giant beast. Somewhere close, an owl called, and something answered with a low growl that raised every hair on my arms.
This isn't real, I told myself. It couldn't be. One minute I was at my twenty-first birthday dinner at Grandma Celeste's old farmhouse, blowing out candles on a crooked chocolate cake. The next, I was here—alone, barefoot, and covered in scratches I didn't remember getting.
My heart thudded hard enough to hurt. "Hello?" My voice was small, swallowed by the forest. No one answered.
I staggered to my feet. The world tilted and a hot, metallic taste filled my mouth. Blood. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and froze. Claw marks—deep ones—ran down my arm from elbow to wrist. Not scratches. Not something you get from falling. These looked like something had tried to drag me down.
A flash of memory stabbed through me: silver light, a howl tearing through my chest, the feel of my own bones stretching. I gasped and the memory slipped away like water through my fingers.
I stumbled through the trees until I found a dirt road. My car was gone. My phone was dead. I followed the road anyway, praying it led back to the farmhouse. The wind smelled like rain, but underneath it was something else—wild, musky, and familiar in a way that made my stomach twist.
Headlights cut through the dark. A battered pickup truck rattled around the bend and slowed when the driver saw me. The window rolled down to reveal a man with sharp cheekbones and eyes too bright for the night.
"You're bleeding," he said. His voice was low, a little too calm. "Get in. You shouldn't be out here."
Every instinct screamed no, but the cold and the fear pressed me forward. I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. The cab smelled like leather and smoke.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Vale Road," I whispered.
He nodded and drove. The silence between us felt heavy, like a storm waiting to break. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His hands were steady on the wheel, but his knuckles were scratched, as if he'd been fighting something.
"Do I… know you?" I asked.
"Not yet," he said. "But you will."
A shiver ran down my spine. Before I could ask more, the farmhouse came into view—its windows blazing with light. Grandma Celeste stood on the porch, her white hair loose around her shoulders, a candle flickering in her hand like a beacon.
The truck stopped. "Go," the man said. "And Aria?"
I stiffened. "How do you know my name?"
He only gave me a thin, crooked smile. "You might want to ask your grandmother about the nightmares."
I bolted out of the truck. By the time I turned back, the headlights were already vanishing down the road.
Grandma Celeste met me at the steps. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. "You changed," she whispered. "I felt it."
My stomach dropped. "Changed?"
She pulled me inside, bolting the door behind us. The living room smelled of sage and old books. On the coffee table lay a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon, glinting in the candlelight.
"What's happening to me?" My voice cracked. "I blacked out. I woke up in the woods—"
"I tried to warn you," she said, wringing her hands. "I thought we had more time."
"Time for what?"
"For the curse to wake up," she said, and her eyes filled with tears. "You're twenty-one now. You're the last of the Vale bloodline. And on the full moon, our blood remembers what it is."
I stared at her. "This is insane."
She pressed the silver pendant into my hand. It burned like ice. "You need to wear this from now on. It will dull the pull of the moon until you learn control."
My head spun. "Control? Control what?"
She hesitated, then whispered, "The wolf inside you."
For a heartbeat, the world went silent. Then a howl rose outside—long, low, and mournful. Not a dog. Not a coyote. A sound older than both. It echoed through the trees and into my bones.
I stumbled back from the window, heart hammering. "That's impossible."
"No, child." Grandma Celeste's voice trembled. "It's inevitable."
And in that moment, I knew: the nightmare wasn't over. It had only just begun.