Mira's POV
I woke up screaming.
The park bench was hard beneath me, and early morning frost covered my coat. People walking by stared at me like I was crazy—which, honestly, I probably was.
"Just a dream," I gasped, pressing my hand against my racing heart. "It was just another vivid dream brought on by stress and sleeping outside and losing everything in one day."
But my shoulder was burning.
With shaking hands, I pulled down my coat and shirt collar. The crescent moon birthmark blazed with silver light so bright I had to squint. It pulsed like a heartbeat—thump-thump, thump-thump—and with each pulse, I felt something pulling at me.
North. Toward the forest outside town.
Toward Shadowveil.
"No," I whispered. "This isn't real. Werewolves aren't real. Curses aren't real. I'm just sick. I need help."
I stuffed my belongings back into the garbage bags and started walking, ignoring the curious stares from early morning joggers. I had nowhere to go, no money for breakfast, and a glowing magical birthmark that proved I was either cursed or completely insane.
Probably both.
There was only one person who might have answers: Sister Margaret, the nun who'd found me as a baby on the orphanage doorstep twenty-four years ago.
The walk to Thornridge Orphanage took an hour. My feet ached, my stomach growled, and the birthmark kept burning hotter with each step. By the time I reached the old brick building, I was ready to collapse.
Sister Margaret was in the garden, tending to her roses like always. She looked up when she heard my footsteps and smiled—then her face went pale.
"Mira? Child, what happened to you?"
"I need to talk to you." I dropped my garbage bags. "About the night you found me. About where I really came from."
Her smile disappeared. "Let's go inside."
We sat in her small office, and I watched her carefully. Sister Margaret had always been kind to me, but she'd never been particularly warm. She'd kept me fed and clothed at the orphanage, made sure I went to school, but there was always distance between us.
Like she was afraid to get too close.
"Tell me about the night you found me," I demanded.
"I've told you before. Someone left you on the doorstep with a note—"
"What did the note say?" I interrupted. "You never told me that part."
Sister Margaret's hands twisted in her lap. "It said to keep you away from the wolves. That your life depended on staying hidden."
My breath caught. "Wolves. Not 'danger' or 'bad people.' Specifically wolves."
"It was probably just a strange way of saying—"
"Sister Margaret, please." I yanked down my collar, showing her the glowing birthmark. "Tell me the truth. What am I?"
She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Sweet Mary, it's activated. I'd hoped... I prayed you'd stay ordinary. That the vision was wrong."
"What vision?"
Sister Margaret stood and locked the office door. When she turned back, her eyes were filled with tears.
"I wasn't always a nun," she said quietly. "Twenty-five years ago, I was a seer—a woman with the gift of prophecy. I saw terrible things, wonderful things, futures that could be and futures that must never happen. The visions drove me half-mad until I gave up my gift and joined the church, hoping for peace."
I leaned forward. "What does that have to do with me?"
"The night before I found you, I had one final vision." Her voice shook. "I saw a baby girl who would walk between dreams and waking, created by dark magic to end an innocent king. I saw her glowing birthmark. I saw wolves and blood and a choice that would doom or save thousands."
My hands went numb. "That's... that's exactly what he said. Kieran. In my dream."
"It wasn't a dream, child." Sister Margaret pulled a small wooden box from her desk drawer. "The woman who left you on our doorstep wasn't your mother—she was someone trying to save you from your fate. She left this with you."
She handed me the box. Inside was an old leather journal, its pages yellowed with age.
"She said to give it to you when the mark began to glow," Sister Margaret continued. "She said you'd need to understand what you are and why you exist. I'm sorry, Mira. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you from this."
I opened the journal with trembling hands. The first page read:
To the girl I saved,
My name is Elena Moonshadow. If you're reading this, then the curse has found you despite everything I did to prevent it. I'm sorry. I tried to give you free will, tried to make you more than just a weapon. But Morgana's magic is strong, and I fear my sister will never stop hunting you.
Yes—Morgana is my sister. And I helped her create you.
I am so, so sorry.
My vision blurred. Created. The word kept appearing. Not born. Created.
"What does it mean?" I whispered.
Before Sister Margaret could answer, the window exploded.
Glass shattered everywhere. I screamed and dove under the desk. Sister Margaret wasn't fast enough—a piece of glass cut her arm, and she cried out in pain.
Through the broken window, I saw flames.
Silver and black fire consumed Thornridge Books across the street—the bookshop where I'd worked just yesterday. The supernatural flames twisted and writhed like living things, and they formed words in the smoke:
THREE DAYS UNTIL THE BLOOD MOON. COME TO SHADOWVEIL FOREST, OR EVERYONE YOU'VE EVER KNOWN BURNS.
"No," I breathed. "No, no, no—"
More windows exploded up and down the street. Fire erupted from buildings. People screamed and ran. And above it all, I heard a sound that made my blood freeze.
Howling.
Wolves. Multiple wolves. Getting closer.
"We need to run," Sister Margaret gasped, clutching her bleeding arm. "Now, Mira. You need to run and never look back—"
The office door splintered.
Three massive wolves burst through—larger than any natural wolf, with red eyes that glowed with dark magic. Rogue wolves, just like Kieran had warned me about.
They wanted me dead before I could reach Shadowveil Forest.
I grabbed the journal and backed against the wall, my heart hammering. I had no weapons. No way to defend myself. Nothing but a glowing birthmark and a curse I didn't understand.
The lead wolf lunged.
I threw up my hands instinctively—and silver light exploded from my palms.
The wolf hit an invisible barrier and yelped, falling back. The other two wolves stopped, growling. And I stared at my hands in shock.
I could see through them.
Not literally, but I could see magical chains wrapped around the wolves—glowing red cords that bound them, controlled them. Curse marks.
Someone had cursed these wolves and sent them to kill me.
"Mira, behind you!" Sister Margaret screamed.
I spun to find a fourth wolf climbing through the window. But this one was different. Its eyes weren't red—they were warm brown, and it wasn't snarling.
It positioned itself between me and the cursed wolves.
Then it shifted.
Bones cracked and reformed. Fur dissolved. And suddenly a young man stood there—handsome, with messy brown hair and a dangerous smile.
"Hello," he said casually, like we weren't surrounded by magical fire and killer wolves. "My name is Elias Thorn. And I really, really need you to come with me right now."
"Who are you?"
"A friend of Kieran's. Well, former friend. It's complicated." He pulled a knife from his belt. "But what's not complicated is that smell all over you—Alpha King's curse, fresh and strong. If I can smell it, every wolf in a hundred miles can smell it. They'll hunt you. They'll kill you before you can reach the forest and complete the ritual."
"I'm not going to the forest!" I protested. "Kieran told me to stay away—"
"Yeah, because he's an idiot who thinks he can save you by sacrificing himself." Elias grinned, but his eyes were serious. "Newsflash: the curse doesn't work that way. You stay here, everyone in this town dies. You go to the forest, maybe—maybe—we can figure out how to break this thing without anyone dying."
The cursed wolves attacked.
Elias shifted back into his wolf form and fought them, moving with deadly grace. I watched in horror as blood sprayed and wolves tore at each other.
Sister Margaret grabbed my arm. "Go with him, child. He's telling the truth. I've seen this in visions—if you stay, we all burn."
"But I don't know how to break a curse! I don't know what I'm doing!"
One of the cursed wolves broke past Elias and charged straight at me.
I threw my hands up again—and this time, the silver light didn't just push the wolf back.
It broke the curse.
I saw the red chains shatter. The wolf yelped, stumbled, and shifted into a young woman who looked terrified and confused.
"What... what happened?" she gasped. "Where am I? The last thing I remember is..."
She collapsed, unconscious but alive.
Elias finished off the other two cursed wolves and shifted back to human. He stared at me with wide eyes.
"You just broke a curse," he said slowly. "With a touch. Do you have any idea how powerful you'd have to be to—" He shook his head. "Never mind. We need to leave. Now. More will come."
"I can't just abandon—"
Fire roared higher. The building shook. And through the smoke, I saw more shapes moving. More wolves. Dozens of them, all heading straight for the orphanage.
Straight for me.
Elias held out his hand. "Your choice, Mira Ashford. Stay here and watch everyone die, or come with me and maybe—just maybe—we find a way to save them all."
I looked at Sister Margaret, who nodded.
I looked at the journal in my hands, filled with secrets I hadn't read yet.
I looked at my glowing birthmark, pulsing faster now, pulling me north.
And I made my choice.
I took Elias's hand.
"Run," he said.
We ran.
But as we burst out of the burning orphanage into the chaos-filled street, I heard a voice that made my blood turn to ice.
Deep. Female. Filled with dark power.
"You can run, little Bloodbane," the voice purred from everywhere and nowhere. "But the curse will find you. And when it does, you'll beg me to let you die."
Laughter echoed through the flames.
And I realized with absolute terror: Morgana was watching.