The night Ayra was born did not feel like a night meant for life.
The wind howled through the trees as if something unseen was searching, restless and impatient. Clouds swallowed the sky, leaving no trace of stars, no comfort of light only darkness pressing down on the earth like a warning no one could ignore.
Deep within the forest, far from any village or pack territory, a small wooden shelter stood hidden between towering trees. It looked fragile against the storm, as though one strong gust could tear it apart.
Inside, the air was thick with tension.
A woman lay on a worn bed of cloth and fur, her breathing uneven, her body trembling with exhaustion. Sweat clung to her skin despite the cold. Strands of dark hair stuck to her face as she gripped the edge of the bedding, her fingers pale from the force.
"Stay with me," a man's voice said beside her low, urgent, trying to stay steady despite the fear that slipped through it.
He held her hand tightly, as if letting go for even a second would cause everything to fall apart.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
Another wave of pain hit her, stealing her breath. A soft cry escaped her lips, but she bit it back quickly, as though she refused to let the sound carry beyond the walls.
"We shouldn't have waited this long," the man muttered, his voice tightening. "They'll find us if..."
"They already would have," she interrupted weakly, forcing out the words between breaths. "This child… it was never something they would ignore."
Silence followed.
Heavy. Unavoidable.
The man lowered his gaze, his jaw clenching as the truth settled between them. Outside, the wind struck harder against the walls, as though the world itself agreed.
This child was not meant to exist.
A sudden, sharp cry filled the small shelter.
Then
Silence.
For one suspended moment, everything stopped.
Even the storm seemed to pause.
The woman's chest rose and fell rapidly as she turned her head, her eyes searching, desperate.
"...My child…" she whispered.
The man moved quickly, lifting the newborn carefully into his arms. The baby was small too small and frighteningly quiet at first. For a heartbeat, fear gripped his chest.
Then she cried.
It was not loud.
Not strong.
But it was enough.
Enough to say she was alive.
Relief broke across his face as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He turned toward the woman, his movements gentler now, almost reverent, as he brought the child closer.
"She's here," he said softly. "She's alive."
The woman reached out with trembling hands, pulling the baby close against her chest. Her expression softened immediately, all pain momentarily forgotten as she looked down at the small face pressed against her.
For a moment, the world outside did not exist.
There was no war.
No rejection.
No fear.
Only a mother and her child.
"She's beautiful…" she murmured.
The man watched them, something fragile and hopeful flickering in his eyes despite everything. He allowed himself, just for a second, to believe that maybe
just maybe
they could protect her.
That maybe the world would be kinder than they expected.
Then the baby opened her eyes.
And everything changed.
The man froze.
The woman's breath caught sharply.
Silence filled the space again, but this time, it was not peaceful.
It was fear.
One eye glowed a deep, unnatural crimson, like embers burning beneath ash.
The other shimmered pale silver, reflecting what little light existed in the room like a fragment of the moon itself.
Not the eyes of a witch.
Not the eyes of a wolf.
Something else.
Something wrong.
"No…" the man whispered, his voice barely audible.
The woman's grip tightened protectively around the child, her heart pounding so loudly she could feel it in her throat.
"They'll kill her," he said, panic rising. "If they see this... if anyone sees"
"They won't," she cut in, though her voice trembled. "We won't let them."
Outside, a branch snapped.
Both of them went still.
The wind did not sound like wind anymore.
It sounded like footsteps.
The man moved quickly, crossing the room to peer through the narrow opening between the wooden planks. His body tensed immediately.
"They're here," he said, his voice dropping into something dark and certain.
"How?" the woman's words broke.
"They never stopped looking."
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Everything they had feared… had finally arrived.
The woman looked down at the child in her arms. The baby had gone quiet again, her mismatched eyes wide open, unblinking, as if she could already see something beyond the small room.
Something beyond this life.
The mother's lips trembled.
"They don't even know her," she whispered. "She hasn't done anything… she hasn't even lived"
"They don't need a reason," the man said. "Only fear."
A distant shout echoed through the forest.
Then another.
Torches flickered between the trees.
The hunt had begun.
The woman pulled the child closer, pressing a kiss against her forehead, her tears finally falling freely.
"Listen to me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No matter what happens… you were wanted. Do you hear me? You were loved."
The man turned back toward them, something fierce and unyielding settling into his expression.
"They will not touch her," he said.
It was not a promise.
It was a decision.
Outside, the light of flames grew stronger, creeping closer, swallowing the darkness one step at a time.
Inside the small shelter, the child with two eyes blinked slowly.
And for the briefest moment
The wind shifted.
As if the world itself had noticed her.