The nightmares came every night.
Selene would wake screaming Isolde's name. Thrashing. Caught between sleep and waking. Between memory and present.
The fire. The blood. The screaming.
Her sister's small hand reaching for her.
"SELENE! SELENE HELP ME!"
Then rough hands on her shoulders. A calm voice cutting through the horror.
"You're safe. You're here. Breathe, pup. Breathe."
Mira. Always Mira.
Holding her until the shaking stopped. Until the nightmare receded. Until Selene could remember where she was.
Not in the burning manor. Not in the garden with bodies everywhere.
In a cabin. Hidden. Safe.
But the nightmares didn't care about safe. They came anyway.
Weeks passed like this.
Days spent training. Nights spent fighting memories.
Selene's body healed. Her feet stopped bleeding. The blisters became calluses. Her exhaustion faded.
But her mind stayed broken.
Mira never commented on the screaming. Never made Selene feel weak for needing comfort.
She just held her. Every night. Until dawn.
"It gets easier," Mira said one morning after a particularly bad night. "Not better. But easier."
"When?"
"When you stop fighting the memories. When you let yourself grieve instead of turning it all into hate."
Selene's jaw tightened. "I don't want to grieve. I want revenge."
"You can have both. But grief first. Revenge later."
"No. Revenge now."
Mira sighed. But didn't argue.
Instead, she started training.
The first lesson was movement.
"You walk like a noble," Mira said, circling Selene in the clearing behind the cabin. "Heavy feet. No awareness of your surroundings. You might as well ring a bell announcing where you are."
"I've never needed to be quiet before."
"You do now. Again. Move from there to here without making a sound."
Selene tried. Her foot caught on a branch. It snapped with a crack that echoed through the forest.
"Again."
She tried. Stepped on dry leaves that crunched loudly.
"Again."
Over and over. Failing. Frustrated.
Her noble upbringing was useless here. All the etiquette lessons, the formal dances, the proper way to curtsy. None of it helped her survive in the wild.
She fell. Scraped her knee. Bit back tears of frustration.
"Get up."
"I can't do this!"
"You can. You're just not trying hard enough."
"I am trying!"
Mira's expression was hard. Unforgiving.
"Then try harder. Your family is dead. Your sister is dead. Crying won't bring them back. Only strength will give you revenge."
The words were cruel. But they worked.
Selene stood. Wiped her eyes. Tried again.
This time, she moved slowly. Carefully. Testing each step before putting weight down.
She made it three steps before another branch snapped.
But three steps was better than none.
"Better," Mira said. "Again."
Days blurred together.
Learning to move silently. Learning to track animal prints in mud. Learning which plants were edible and which were poison.
Learning to build snares. To start fires without flint. To read the weather by the sky.
Skills she'd never needed as Lord Eltharion's daughter.
Skills that would keep her alive now.
She failed constantly. Every lesson was a struggle.
Her hands bled from climbing trees. Her muscles ached from crouching for hours while stalking deer. Her pride was demolished every time Mira corrected her.
But grief drove her forward.
Every failure was another second her family's deaths went unavenged. Another moment Alpha King Damian walked free. Another day justice was delayed.
She couldn't afford to fail.
So she got up. Every time. And tried again.
Mira was patient. But firm.
"Pain makes you strong," she said one evening as Selene nursed bruised ribs from a climbing fall. "But only if you use it as fuel, not poison."
"What does that mean?"
"It means grief can drive you. Or it can destroy you. You get to choose which."
Selene touched the mark on her forehead. It had faded to a dull red. Still visible. Still permanent.
"I choose vengeance."
"Vengeance is poison. Justice is fuel. Know the difference."
But Selene didn't see a difference. Not yet.
As weeks passed, something changed.
Her wolf stirred more frequently. More powerfully.
Before, it had been a whisper. A presence barely felt. A puppy whimpering in fear.
Now it was stronger. Louder. Demanding.
Her senses sharpened. She could smell things she'd never noticed before. Hear rabbits moving in underbrush fifty feet away. See in darkness that should have been impenetrable.
Her wolf was waking up.
"You're nearly eleven," Mira observed one morning. "Young for a first shift. But trauma accelerates things."
"When will it happen?"
"Soon. Maybe the next full moon."
Fear and excitement warred in Selene's chest.
She'd seen wolves shift. Watched her father transform into his powerful gray wolf. Watched her mother become sleek silver.
Watched soldiers become killing machines.
But she'd never done it herself. Never felt what it was like to be wolf instead of human.
"Will it hurt?" she asked quietly.
"Yes. The first time always hurts. Your bones have to break and reshape. Your body has to learn a new form."
Mira's expression softened slightly.
"But it's also freedom. Your wolf form is faster. Stronger. More alive than human form could ever be."
"I'm scared."
"Good. Fear keeps you cautious. But don't let it stop you."
The full moon approached.
Selene felt it in her bones. In her blood. Her wolf paced inside her chest, restless and eager.
The night came clear and cold.
Mira led Selene to the clearing behind the cabin. The same place they trained every day.
But tonight felt different. Charged. Like the air before a storm.
The moon rose. Huge. Silver. Filling the sky.
Selene's wolf howled inside her. Not in fear this time. In recognition. In need.
"Let it happen," Mira said. "Don't fight it. Your wolf knows what to do."
She stepped back. Her body rippled and reformed.
A sleek gray wolf stood where Mira had been. Larger than a natural wolf. More intelligent. Eyes glowing amber.
She howled. A sound of encouragement. Of pack. Of safety.
Selene's body answered.
Heat flooded her limbs. Not like the mark burning. Different. Deeper.
In her bones.
Her spine arched. She gasped.
Then the pain hit.
Her bones cracked. Audibly. Like branches snapping.
Selene screamed.
Her arms twisted. Lengthened. Reshaped.
Her face pushed forward. Her teeth elongated.
Every bone in her body was breaking and reforming.
The agony was beyond anything she'd imagined. Beyond the mark appearing. Beyond watching her family die.
This was her body tearing itself apart and rebuilding.
She collapsed to the ground. Screaming. Crying.
But beneath the pain, something else rose.
Power.
Raw. Primal. Unstoppable.
Her wolf surging forward. Taking control. Reshaping reality.
The human form fell away like a shed skin.
Selene's vision blurred. Colors shifted. Smells exploded into overwhelming detail.
She could smell everything. The earth. The trees. The small animals hiding in burrows. Mira's scent, familiar and safe.
Her hearing sharpened. She could hear heartbeats. Wind through leaves miles away. Water running underground.
When her vision cleared, the world looked different.
Lower. Wider. More alive.
She tried to stand. Four legs instead of two. She stumbled. Fell. Tried again.
Her body felt wrong. Foreign. Too many legs. Balance all off.
But also right. More right than human form had ever felt.
She'd shifted.
She was wolf.
Mira padded closer. Lowered her head. Touched noses with Selene in the traditional wolf greeting.
Then she howled.
A sound of celebration. Of welcome. Of pack.
Selene's wolf responded instinctively. Her head tilted back. Her throat opened.
And she howled.
The sound that came out was raw. Untrained. Young.
But it was hers.
For the first time since the massacre, Selene felt something other than grief and rage.
She felt power.