The dream returned again before dawn—shadows thick as velvet, a forest I didn't recognize, and a whisper curling through the darkness like smoke breathing my name.
Aureia… come find me.
I jolted upright, heart hammering, sweat clinging cool against my spine. The room was silent except for the soft whistle of wind past the shutters. I pressed my palm over my heart, trying to steady its rhythm. This was the third night in a row. The dreams were worsening.
A distant howl drifted through the forest, the measured call of a Delta guard stationed at the Pack Mansion gate. They rotated the watch in threes—three guards for three entrances, three nights per cycle. My father used to tell me the number was symbolic. Three for stability. Three for unity.
Funny how everything in my life lately seemed to come in threes.
I tried to sleep again, but my thoughts were a restless tide. The voice from the dream curled in my mind, soft but insistent. At some point exhaustion pulled me under, and morning came in the form of my mother's frantic footsteps.
"Aureia! Up—now!" she cried, sounding as if the roof were collapsing.
Still half-asleep, I stumbled out of bed. "Mother? What—"
"We've been invited to the Pack Mansion." Her eyes shone with a kind of hope that made my stomach dip.
I blinked at her. "The… Mansion? Why?"
My father answered from the dining table, his tone steady. "An official ball, it seems. No one knows the reason yet."
A ball. At the Draven twins' estate.
An uncomfortable pressure tightened behind my ribs. My mother was already rummaging through her wardrobe, muttering to herself about dresses and reputations.
"It's not just a ball," she insisted, ignoring my father's attempt at humor. "It's opportunity. We need new dresses, Aureia. Something appropriate."
"Mother, half the village will be there. We don't need—"
"We absolutely do," she said, grabbing my hands. "This could be the night the Twins choose their mate. Or—goddess willing—the night they notice you."
My breath stuttered. "Mother, I rejected them."
"And?" she said with a dismissive wave. "People change their minds. And men like them… well, they don't often invite omegas into their ballroom. We must make an impression."
I wanted to tell her I had no interest in making any impression at all, but it wouldn't have mattered. She was already pushing me toward my room. Her excitement was a river sweeping me along.
Within the hour we were at the dressmaker's cottage near the main square—along with what felt like every woman in the pack.
Voices rose from every corner:
"I heard the Draven heirs will choose a bride tonight."
"No, no—this is about an alliance."
"Imagine being chosen as Luna Queen!"
The air buzzed with anticipation. Fitting, tugging, and arguing filled the shop. My mother dove into the chaos like a soldier into battle.
By the time we reached the back of the store, only a few dresses remained. My mother's brows knitted. "I told you we should've come earlier."
I exhaled slowly. "There must be something left."
And there was.
A lavender gown hung near the window, catching faint rays of sun. It shimmered faintly as if the fabric drank in the light. Pearls cascaded down its bodice, delicate and elegant in a way that made my throat tighten.
"That one," I whispered before I could stop myself.
My mother found a pale yellow dress for herself, and together we carried them to the counter.
"Fifty shillings," the dressmaker said, clearly proud of his remaining stock.
I inhaled sharply. Way over our budget.
Before I could speak, my mother pressed the coins onto the counter. "Wrap them, please."
My heart clenched. She would sacrifice anything for what she believed was my future.
As we walked home, I stumbled over a stone and scraped my palm. Blood surfaced in a bright line—but before the sting fully reached my nerves, the wound closed. Smooth. Perfect. Untouched.
I froze.
"Aureia, darling, are you alright?" my mother asked.
"Yes," I said quickly, hiding my hand. "Nothing to worry about."
But worry bloomed inside me anyway. My healing wasn't normal. Not even for wolves.
"I'll bring these home," my mother said. "You go do… whatever it is you do."
I nodded, already turning toward the forest path that led to Lucien's home. The lavender dress weighed on my thoughts, but not as heavily as what I needed to do.
I could not keep stringing him along with hope. He deserved clarity. Even if it cut us both.
His door opened before I could knock twice. His eyes softened when he saw me—not with expectation, but with that steady gentleness I was beginning to rely on too much.
"Aureia," he said. "Are you alright?"
I took a breath, tasting earth and pine. "Lucien… I came to tell you—again—that I can't accept your proposal. Not now. Maybe not ever."
His jaw tightened an instant, but then he nodded. "I understand."
"You do?" The relief startled me.
"You want more than this life has explained to you," he said. "You always have."
The sincerity nearly undid me. But I held firm.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You're not," he murmured. "You're choosing yourself. That's never the wrong choice."
He walked me home afterward, silent except for a few soft jokes that made me forget the heavy ache inside me. Only when I reached my door did he pause.
"You'll be at the ball tonight?" he asked.
"I suppose so."
"Good," he said softly. "I'd like to see you there."
When he left, I felt something linger in the air—a thread of connection, thin but unbroken.
Inside, my mother was waiting.
"Where have you been?" she demanded.
"With Kaia," I lied without hesitation.
"Good," she said briskly. "Get ready. We leave soon."
I escaped to my room and tried on the lavender gown. It fit like moonlight—soft, cool, impossibly perfect.
My mother tightened my corset with excessive enthusiasm. "Stand tall," she commanded. "Tonight is everything."
My father rented a small wagon, and as we neared the Pack Mansion, murmurs rose from crowds of wolves arriving from every district. The golden gates shimmered under moonlight, opening into a world so breathtaking I momentarily forgot how to breathe.
Chandeliers of blue and violet crystals hung like captured stars. Silk banners embroidered with the Draven crest lined the walls. The music thrummed through my bones—haunting and beautiful.
"Aureia," my mother whispered urgently, nudging me. "A man is approaching. Smile."
A tall stranger bowed. "My lady, may I have this dance?"
I accepted, mostly to avoid an argument. His hand rested at my waist; his gaze lingered too long on my chest. His conversation revolved around his wealth, his wagons, his Beta father. I felt my patience thinning.
Just as I was searching for a polite escape, a warm hand touched my shoulder.
I turned—and saw him.
Tall. Dark-haired. Eyes like stormlit oceans.
Talon Draven.
One of the Alpha Twins.
The entire ballroom froze.
He extended his hand to m
e. His voice thrummed like distant thunder.
"May I have this dance, Aureia Vale?"
My breath caught.
Everything in my life was about to change.