Far, far from Greyhaven, a child runs.
He is dressed in rags. His sandals slap through filthy water pooling between cobblestones. The wind tears at his tunic, plastering it to his thin frame. Dirt streaks his face, his hands, his legs.
People scatter to let him pass. Not out of kindness. Out of fear.
Because the force driving him isn't human.
It's witch-speed, old magic burning through his veins. His feet barely touch ground. His mouth hangs open, chest heaving, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop.
Eyes turn. Curses follow. "Watch it, rat!" "Street urchin!"
He doesn't care.
The market here isn't so different from Greyhaven's. Stalls crammed together. Voices haggling. The smell of spice and sweat and livestock. But the boy doesn't pause at any of them. No stolen fruit. No begging.
He runs.
His hair is too long for a boy, thick and wild, clinging to his forehead with sweat. His breath comes in ragged gasps that sound too old for his body.
He runs until the street ends at a gate.
Not wood. Not iron.
White stone, carved with phases of the moon.
He raises his fist and pounds.
"Open up!" he yells.
His voice is wrong. Too deep. Too mature. It doesn't match the small body it comes from.
"Open up! I have urgent news!"
He pounds again, until his knuckles bleed.
"Open up!"
The gate groans. Two guards step out.
Their armor is odd — silver-white, polished to mirror shine. On each breastplate, a sigil: a full moon encircled by wolves.
"What do you want, stray?" one barks.
The boy doubles over, hands on his knees. He's run miles. His lungs are on fire.
"I have…" Gasp. "Information. For the king. And queen."
The guards look at each other. Then laugh.
"Back to the gutters, rat. The crown doesn't take messages from street filth."
The boy straightens slowly. His mouth is dry from running with it open. His legs shake. But his eyes…
He glares.
"The priestess," he forces out. The word breaks in half. "Priest…ess."
Another gasp. He's furious at his own body for failing him now.
"She has a message," he says. "For the king and queen."
The guards' expressions harden.
"And how would a little urchin like you know the priestess?" the taller one sneers.
The boy doesn't answer with words.
He answers with his eyes.
Something flashes there. Not human. Gold, then silver, then gone. A twinkle like moonlight on water.
Both guards inhale sharply. They stare for one second too long.
Then the boy roars, and this time his voice doesn't shake:
"OPEN THE GATES!"
Magic rolls off the command. Compulsion. Old. Absolute.
The guards growl low in their throats, but their hands move anyway. The gates swing wide.
He doesn't thank them. He runs.
The castle beyond is nothing like Greyhaven.
No dark stone. No gargoyles. No shadows clinging to corners.
This place is white. Clean. Serene. The air smells like salt and jasmine. Moon sigils are etched into every archway, every pillar. The halls are lined with windows so tall they nearly kiss the marble floors, each pane clear glass that throws back the sun in blinding sheets.
The stairways spiral like shells. And everywhere, everywhere, the moon is watching. In stone. In silver. In the way the light bends.
He doesn't stop to admire it.
He runs with a mission.
When he bursts into the throne room, the royal family is mid-discussion. Maps on the table. Voices low.
He doesn't knock. Doesn't bow.
"The priestess has a message!" he yells.
Silence.
Every head turns.
At the center stands the queen.
She's not in silks. She's in ridged armor dyed deep blue, like a twilight sky. A crown sits on her braided hair. Her trousers are fitted, practical, built for riding or war. But the corset over them is royal, stitched with silver thread in the shape of constellations.
She looks ready to lead a charge and hold court in the same breath.
Her eyes land on the boy. Recognition flares.
"Elyze," she breathes. "How pleasant of you to join us today."
Her voice is warm, but her hand goes to the hilt at her hip. Old habit.
"What news does the priestess have?" she asks. And for all her composure, her voice stutters.
Elyze drops to one knee. Not from respect. From exhaustion. From the weight of what he carries.
"Selene," he says. Tears spring to his eyes before he can stop them. "The great goddess Selene has answered our prayers."
The queen goes very still.
"What do you mean?"
He drags in a shaky breath. His voice comes out loud enough for the court, but low enough that everyone hears the tremor in it. The disbelief. The hope.
"The pond," he says. "The sacred pond in the priestess's coven. The Moon Pond."
He looks up, eyes wet.
"For the first time since her birth… it reflected the moon's light."
A gasp ripples through the room.
"It reflected," Elyze continues, "on a region. Far from our city. Very far. But it showed us. Clear as day."
The queen takes a step forward. Her hands are fists.
"You mean the goddess's pond has reflected a location? That means—"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Elyze says. "Yes."
He smiles through tears.
"The princess is alive. And her wolf has been activated."
For a heartbeat, no one breathes.
Then the queen makes a sound. Not a word. A broken, shattered thing from the back of her throat.
The man beside her — the king, dressed in simple greys, no crown — surges to his feet. The entire court rises with him.
"Praise Selene," someone whispers.
"Praise the moon," another says, louder.
"Where?" the queen demands. She's shaking now. "Where did the light fall? Where is she?"
Elyze swallows. "A city. Greyhaven."
The joy in the room freezes. Cracks.
The king speaks first. "You mean…"
"Yes," Elyze says. "The city of vampires."
"That can't be possible." The queen reels back like she's been struck. "How? How can she be there? Are you certain?"
"I am certain," Elyze says, firm now. "The priestess never lies. The pond never lies. This is the first time since her birth that it reflected anything. It was glorious, Your Majesty. The light… it filled the whole grove."
The queen's knees give out. She would have hit the floor if the king hadn't caught her.
She's weeping. Openly. Violently. Years of grief breaking all at once.
"My daughter," she sobs. "My daughter is alive. Her wolf has been activated. Selene be praised, she is alive."
The king holds her, his own eyes wet. "We'll find her," he murmurs into her hair. "We'll bring her home. She will take her rightful place."
She clutches his tunic. "Should we gather a troop? We should ride for Greyhaven now. Today."
"I will speak to the councilmen—"
"No!" She jerks back, eyes wild. "No councilmen. No delays. I want to see my daughter. I don't care what politics you have to play. I haven't seen my daughter since they took her. She's alive. The goddess be praised, she is alive."
Her voice breaks on the last word.
The king cups her face, thumbs wiping tears. "We will find her," he promises. "We will bring her home."
She nods, breathing like she's forgotten how. "We will find her," she repeats. Like a vow. Like a prayer.
Isolde's Pov
Three days have passed since the attack.
And I still feel like something more happened. Something they aren't telling me.
Everyone avoids me. The maids scatter when I walk down the corridor. The servants drop their eyes and step aside like I might bite.
The only person I see is Silas. And Darian.
Darian has been giving me extra attention. Too much, if I'm honest. He takes me to court proceedings. To council meetings. He sits me beside him like I belong there.
But the court doesn't talk to me.
They whisper when I enter the hall. The moment Darian's gaze snaps to them, the whispers die. But I see it. Fear in their eyes. Not disgust. Not hate. Fear.
I deserve to know what happened. I know it has something to do with me. But no one will say it. Not even Silas.
And then there's the voice.
Mine. But hollow. Stronger. Deeper. It echoes in my head at night when I'm trying to sleep.
I dream of running on four legs. Of tearing through people. Of blood on my teeth.
I don't know what I'm thinking anymore. I don't know what's happening to me.
But I pray to the gods I didn't cause trouble for Darian.
He's doing everything to make the court accept me. Though if I'm being honest, I don't think he cares if they accept me. He's staking his claim boldly, right in front of everyone. Showing them I'm his as much as he is mine.
The other day he gave me a family heirloom. An amulet.
"Royal purebloods wear this," he said. "It belonged to my mother."
It's garnet. Beautiful. Heavy. And it feels wrong on my skin. Like I don't deserve it.
Every day he tells me I'm the most beautiful person he's ever met. He says all the things a lover says. And still, I feel like something is wrong. Like something is being hidden from me.
So today, I decide to ask Silas.
No matter how much he tries to push me away, he has to tell me what happened.
I make my way to his lab.
Nothing has changed. Still simple. Still quiet. The scent of herbs and old parchment hangs in the air.
I find him bent over a table, working on something. He jumps when I speak.
Silas isn't jumpy. Never has been.
He's wearing a cloak, like he's about to leave. I almost ask to go with him. I've been indoors for three days and it's starting to wear on me.
"You're downstairs," he says, eyebrows arching.
"Am I supposed to be somewhere else?"
"No, no, of course not." He forces a smile. But it doesn't reach his eyes. He looks careful. Not happy. Guarded.
"Silas. Are you hiding something from me?"
"Of course not. Why would you think that?" He straightens, brushing dust off his sleeves. "I'm just glad my apprentice decided to grace my lab with her presence."
"Then why are you acting different?"
"I'm not acting different. I'm just… surprised. You've graduated from my apprentice to the king's lover. Soon-to-be queen of the kingdom."
I step closer. "I know something is wrong. I don't know what you're not telling me. What aren't you telling me?"
He sighs. "Nothing you need to worry yourself about. Nothing for me to tell you."
"Then who should tell me?"
He doesn't answer. Just turns back to his work.
"Silas, if you don't tell me what happened the day I woke up…" My voice rises. "You all said it was just a mishap. That I got knocked out. But I know better."
I press a hand to my temple. "I see flashes in my head. When I wake up, I get this excruciating headache. And when I try to remember, there's nothing. And when I ask Darian—"
He cuts me off with a look.
"I don't like being in the dark," I say. "I hate this."
Silas pauses. He sets down the vial in his hand and walks toward me. Both hands land on my shoulders, steadying me.
"Look at me," he says.
I do.
"I know it feels like torture being in the dark," he says softly. "I know everything feels overwhelming. But we'll figure it out. Okay?"
"Figure what out?" My breath comes faster now. Sharper. "How can I figure anything out when I don't even know what's wrong?"
Silas stares at me. Not blankly. Like he wants to say something but something's holding him back.
"Please, Silas," I say. "If there was ever a day you considered me more than your apprentice, this is it. Show me."
"I can't," he says quietly. "I can't go against what Darian said."
"What did Darian say?" I grip his shoulders. "Why is everyone acting so shifty around me? When I leave this room, the servants don't just avoid me. They're terrified of me. There are whispers whenever I walk into a room. When Darian takes me to court, they look at me and murmur. Not with disgust. With fear. With curiosity."
I swallow hard. "And I'm curious what they're curious about."
"Since I woke up, I haven't heard anyone mention Cassian. I've been stuck in my room. You won't let me continue my apprenticeship. It's room to court to garden to room. You're all trying to keep me busy with things I don't care about."
My voice cracks. "I want to know what's happening in my life. It feels wrong that you're all keeping it from me."
Silas gulps. He releases a breath.
"It's not that I don't want to tell you."
"Then tell me."
Another breath. He looks resigned, like he can't hold it in anymore.
"Darian is going to kill me for this."
"Fine."
"After the attack in the castle," he begins, "one of the attackers went for you. He thought you were part of the royal family."
Silas looks down at his feet. Won't meet my eyes.
"I think you had a tussle with him. You broke the window in your room. During the fight, he threw you out of it."
My heart stops.
"And then?" I urge.
"Something unexpected happened."
"What?" My eyes burn. I'm holding his shoulders too tight, but I can't let go. "Silas, why are you looking at your feet?"
"You…" He stutters. "You changed."
"What? Did I turn into a vampire? Did the vampire side I didn't know about come to life?"
"No," he says quickly. "It's not that."
"Then what?"
"You…" He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I don't know how to say this. You transformed. Into something wild. Something full of rage. Something powerful that none of us recognize."
I blink. "I don't understand."
"Neither do we," Silas says. "You transformed into a beast. It started after you killed the man who attacked you. It was like your bones were shifting. I realized a second too late before…"
He shakes his head.
"You became huge. Massive."
"Massive how?"
"You grew fur. Black. Thick. All over you. You weren't you anymore." His voice drops. "You became a beast. Bigger than a horse. You had fangs. Not vampire fangs. Giant. Elongated. And claws. Your nails became claws."
He meets my eyes now.
"And your eyes… your eyes most of all."
He groans, exasperated. "I don't know how to explain it. I don't know how to tell you this because even I'm confused about what you became."
He hesitates. "Haven't you noticed the change in your eyes?"
I freeze.
"I haven't looked in the mirror since that day. There aren't any mirrors in my room anymore."
Silas bites his lip. "Did Darian remove them? So you wouldn't see what's happening to you?"
"Silas. What happened to my eyes?" My voice comes out as a roar. I don't recognize it.
He flinches. Takes three steps back.
"Silas!" I roar again.
He lets out a shaky breath. "I'll get you a mirror."
He opens the cupboard and pulls out a small hand mirror. He hands it to me, hands trembling.
I lift it.
And I see them.
Eyes that don't belong to me.
One grey. One crimson red.
Like my human self and my vampire self merged into one.
"What is this?" I whisper.
Silas steps forward, trying to calm me. "You're the second strongest person I know, but I don't know what happened. I don't know what you became. What you are. But I know that whatever you turned into… it's the real you. The you that existed before the accident that turned you into a vampire."
He pauses.
"That part of you was dormant your whole life. Something triggered it. Maybe death. I don't know what. But it's always been part of you. The vampire part was just what you knew. The other part… we don't know."
His voice goes quiet.
"It's an ancient creature. We've read about it in old books. The pages were torn out."
I stare at him. "What creature?"
"A wolf."
"A wolf?" I laugh. It comes out hysterical. "But wolves aren't— I'm human."
"You're not human," Silas says gently. "You're half-blooded."
"I don't understand," I stammer. "I've never been a wolf. Wolves are dogs. Hounds."
"That's what we're trying to understand," Silas says. "There were whispers in the past. Werewolves sneaking into Greyhaven with witches, trying to bring down vampires because some humans made an alliance with them."
He shakes his head. "The thing is, we know you're a werewolf from those whispers. There are humans who transform into wolves. Hounds. They serve the moon goddess."
He frowns. "But a werewolf doesn't take this long to show. That's why we're confused about where you stand. You were human before you became a vampire. There was no sign of a wolf in you. So…"
"But I am a wolf."
"Why haven't you ever told me about werewolves?"
"Because I never thought there'd be one in Greyhaven," Silas says. "They fled centuries ago."
I stop talking. I just stare.
This is new. This is impossible.
"The books that had more information," Silas says, "the pages are torn out. Someone knows. Someone doesn't want us to know."
I shake my head. "I don't know what to do. Darian doesn't know either. We're all confused. We want to help you. That's why Darian didn't want you to worry. He didn't want you to know what happened that day."
"So the best way to help me is to keep me in the dark?" I ask, voice low. Dangerous.
"It's not the best way," Silas says. "It's the only way we could think of. We can't handle this lightly. If word gets out, you'll be hunted. You're a unique case. You might even be stronger than Darian. We don't want you in danger. That's why we kept it from you. That's why we've been keeping you inside the castle."
He looks at the ground. I've never seen Silas look defeated before.
"I'm sorry," he says.
I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do.
I'm panicking. My throat feels tight. My eyes sting. My breath comes in shaky gasps.
"So there's no explanation?" I ask. "No solution?"
"There's none," Silas says. He sighs. "So you just have to stay in the castle. For now."
I nod. Numb.
"What about Cassian?" I ask.
Silas sighs again. "That's another situation we don't know how to handle."
"What happened? Did I hurt him?"
"No, no, of course not. Cassian wasn't in the castle when the attack happened."
"What? Does that mean he wasn't behind the attack either?"
"We don't understand what's wrong with him," Silas says. "He refused to give Darian an explanation. And Darian was already furious that he left the border. He left with skilled men, yes, but he left. I had to reach out to Darian when I realized they were coming for you with weapons."
Silas looks at me, proud.
"And you helped. A lot. You cleared out most of the enemies. They were terrified. They weren't prepared for what you became."
I shake my head. "I still don't know who I am."
"We'll find out together, okay?" Silas says. He forces a smile. "In the meantime, does my apprentice want to see my latest research?"
I nod. A small, shaky nod. There's a tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me everything will be fine. But the fear of what I've become — or what I've always been — eats at me.
"What are you working on?" I ask.
"Oh, you mean the potion I made for vampires?" Silas laughs. "Someone told the king. I've stopped the research."
"It helped, though, didn't it?"
"It did. I gave it to most of the men at the border." Silas lowers his voice. "But Darian said if the purebloods use it too much, they'll become addicted. Like opium. Their bodies will get used to it and it won't work anymore. So now I only make small quantities."
"So it's not a secret anymore?"
"No. I thought I'd be punished. But I think Darian is just worried about the soldiers too."
"Thank goodness," I say.
"So what are you working on now?"
"Nothing much. Just… reading books about wolves. For your sake." Silas smirks. "Wolves don't like wolfsbane. Or silver."
"Wolfsbane and silver?" I laugh. "Those are two things wolves shouldn't like, I guess."
I pause. "I've never worn silver jewelry. Not that I could afford it before. Even now, with my status… I still don't."
"True. And you've never had an issue holding silverware in the kitchen."
"Maybe because of my vampire side?"
"Maybe."
I hum. "What if I said I wanted to see Cassian? Would you let me?"
"I would," Silas says. "But you can't tell the king I let you see him. I like my head on my neck."
He laughs. I chuckle despite myself.
"Yes, I won't tell the king."
"Good. He's in the dungeon. Darian sentenced him to six years. Or was it three? I've forgotten. I have a lot on my mind."
"I know," I say. "Your big mind is trying to solve too many things."
Silas laughs. "I'm really glad you're okay, though."
"Me too," I whisper.