Romilda sat on the edge of her bed, a small plate of cookies on her knees.
She tried to savor the quiet after the day's chaos, letting the sweet smell calm her racing thoughts.
Carefully, she leaned forward to place the plate on the bedside table but her hands trembled, the plate wobbled and tumbled to the floor. Cookies scattered across the wooden boards with a sharp clatter.
Her heart leapt. She knelt, grabbing a cookie, muttering almost instinctively,
"Lumina veris."
Her eyes widened. The cookies floated gently back onto the plate, perfectly arranged as if nothing had happened.
Romilda froze.
At the same time, a sharp burn flared beneath her collarbone.
She gasped softly, fingers flying to the jagged birthmark hidden beneath her nightdress. Heat pulsed from it, like it was responding to the magic she had just used.
The pain eased, but the mark still throbbed faintly,
Her pulse thundered. "What is happening to me."
The door creaked. Priscilla stepped in, voice soft but alert.
"Romilda? What's going on?"
Romilda set the plate down quickly, forcing casualness.
"Nothing…"
"You're sure,"
"Yes mom,"
Priscilla's eyes narrowed, concern etched deep.
"Alright. Go get some sleep. You don't want to wake late tomorrow."
Romilda nodded, but her mind wouldn't rest. Her hands tingled.
Her chest thrummed with something alive, powerful, something she was only beginning to understand.
Meanwhile, in the Alpha's study, Martin sat rigid in his chair, jaw tight. His wolf growled inside him, frustrated.
"Defending her again, Martin?" Alpha Luther's voice cut through the room like a blade, golden eyes flashing.
Martin didn't flinch.
"I won't let anyone hurt her," he said, steady, colder than ice.
Luther's brow arched.
"You talk back to me? After everything I've taught you?"
"I said what I said," Martin replied, jaw set, fists clenching.
The silence was heavy. Luther studied him before shaking his head.
"You'll learn your place. You'll see soon enough what's required of the Blackthorn heir."
He left sharply, boots echoing off stone. Martin sank back into his chair, guilt and frustration coiling inside him.
***
Romilda wandered barefoot through the woods.
Mist curled around the trees like claws. The moon hung low, bruised purple, bleeding light onto the ground.
"Hello?" she called, breath trembling. No response, only the wind and the darkness.
A branch snapped and she spun to see nothing. Her heart thudded harder.
She hugged herself and kept moving, leaves crunching underfoot like broken bones.
Then she saw her: a girl standing ahead, facing away. Same hair. Same height. Same shiver in her stance.
Romilda's pulse faltered.
"Hey… do you need help?" she whispered, stepping closer.
The girl didn't move. Romilda reached out and tap her shoulder but the head twisted unnaturally, slowly. Crackling. Their eyes met.
Her own face stared back.
Eyes black as void, smile stretched too wide. Skin pale as soaked paper.
"Finally," the doppelganger rasped, voice scraping like metal.
"You're weakening."
Romilda staggered.
"W-Who are you?"
The doppelganger stepped forward, jerky, puppet-like.
"I'm you," it crooned.
"The part you pretend doesn't exist."
It moved too fast, grabbing her throat. Cold fingers, steel-strong.
Romilda clawed at the wrist, lungs burning.
"Let… me… go…"
"You will," it whispered. "You'll let me out."
Its grip tightened, and her vision went black.
Romilda woke with a violent gasp, clutching her throat. Sunlight spilled across her bed, too bright, too warm for the terror twisting her chest.
It had to be a dream. But her heartbeat refused to settle.
The door swung open. Priscilla rushed in, worry flooding her face.
"Romilda! I heard you crying out, are you sure alright?"
Romilda wiped sweat from her brow, forcing calm.
"Yeah," she lied, weakly chuckling.
"Just… weird nightmares. Nothing to worry about."
Priscilla frowned.
"You were screaming like someone was hurting you."
Romilda couldn't meet her eyes. Fear admitted is a story not ready for telling.
"I promise, I'm fine," she whispered. "You don't need to worry."
Priscilla studied her, then sighed, squeezing her shoulder gently.
"Okay. Get ready, you don't want to be late."
Once her footsteps faded, Romilda sprang to her feet. Chores were impossible. A monster version of herself lurked in her nightmares.
She grabbed her notebook and headed for the pack library. Determination replaced fear with every step.
She would find it. Today.
Romilda pushed open the library doors. The smell of aged paper and dust greeted her, but it didn't calm her nerves.
"Finally… the sneaky little Omega thinks she can read now," a sharp voice hissed.
The librarian barely looked up, eyes narrowing behind thick glasses. "Watch your paws. Don't break anything, or you'll regret it, little rat," she muttered, pointing vaguely toward the shadowed corners where the ancient mystics' tomes were kept.
Romilda's fingers clenched, heat rising to her cheeks, but she didn't reply. She had a purpose.
A soft, familiar voice drifted from behind the shelves.
"Romilda…"
She froze, heart skipping. Martin stepped out, tall and composed, eyes fixed on her. For a brief moment, she forgot to breathe, recognizing his presence before she realized he was even there.
She turned, trying to ignore him, and moved toward the darker aisles.
"I can help you find what you're looking for," he said gently, stepping closer.
Romilda shook her head. "I don't need your help. Just… leave me alone."
Martin's jaw tightened, but he didn't push. He watched silently as she continued her search, her fingers brushing over the worn leather spines.
Her gaze landed on one book in particular, it was a thick, ancient volume bound in cracked black leather, etched with silver runes that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light.
Its cover smelled of smoke and old forests, as if it had been waiting for her. She slid it from the shelf, inhaling the faint scent of magic.
Martin noticed immediately. "Why this one?" he asked, stepping closer. "Maybe I can help you check for more, find the ones related to this,"
"I said leave me alone!" Romilda snapped, spinning around.
He reached out instinctively, trying to grab her hand. "Wait...im."
Her eyes flared red, they were bright and sharp, Martin froze, momentarily shocked, his hand hovering in the air before he let go.
Romilda's pulse raced.
She could feel the heat of her power thrumming beneath her skin, her chest tight with exhilaration and fear. She didn't wait to see his reaction any longer.
With the book clutched to her chest, she turned and hurried down the aisles, feet barely touching the floor, hoping Martin didn't think she was… strange.
By the time she reached the exit, her heart was pounding, and her hands trembled slightly. The book felt heavy not with weight, but with potential.
She slipped out into the daylight, the library doors closing behind her with a soft thud. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a quiet thrill lingered, a whisper of power, a sense that everything had just begun.