The mountains released me reluctantly.
By the third morning, the peaks softened into rugged highlands, snow thinning into frost-damp grass and dark soil. My body felt different with every mile I walked. Stronger, yes, but also heavier, as if something vast had settled inside me and refused to be ignored.
Power had a weight.
I learned that quickly.
When I reached a narrow stream cutting through the land, I knelt to drink and nearly lost control. The water rippled violently beneath my hands, vibrating as if responding to my presence. I jerked back with a sharp breath, heart racing.
"Enough," I muttered to myself.
The surface stilled slowly, like a beast calming under firm command.
I stared at my reflection. My eyes were still brown, but sometimes, just for a blink, silver flashed beneath. Watching. Waiting.
I pulled my hood up and moved on.
By midday, the land opened into a wide valley dotted with abandoned structures. Stone foundations overgrown with moss. Broken fences swallowed by vines. This place had once been lived in.
Now it felt… wrong.
The air was thick, heavy with old fear.
I slowed, senses straining. No fresh scents. No movement. Yet unease crawled along my spine.
A ruined chapel stood at the center of the valley, its roof partially collapsed, Moon Goddess sigils carved deep into the remaining stone. This was no ordinary settlement.
This was a forgotten shrine.
I approached carefully, boots crunching softly over debris. As soon as I crossed the threshold, pressure slammed into my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs.
I gasped, staggering forward.
The power inside me reacted violently, flaring in protest. White heat surged through my veins, forcing me to my knees.
"No," I whispered, clutching my chest.
The air shimmered.
A presence unfolded before me, thick and suffocating. Not divine. Not calm.
Corrupted.
"You should not exist," a voice hissed, echoing from the broken walls.
I looked up slowly.
A shadow clung to the far side of the chapel, shaped vaguely like a wolf, its form fractured and incomplete. Its eyes burned a sickly red.
A wraith.
Once a guardian. Now twisted by neglect and time.
"I didn't come to fight," I said, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.
It laughed, the sound scraping like stone dragged across bone. "Your blood awakened me. Your kind always does."
The pressure intensified. Cracks spiderwebbed through the floor beneath me.
Instinct screamed at me to release my power.
Fear screamed louder.
If I let go now, I do not know what would happen.
The wraith surged forward.
I raised my hands, palms trembling.
"Stop."
The word was not a plea.
It was a command.
The air exploded outward, a shockwave of pale light tearing through the chapel. Stone shattered. The wraith shrieked, its form unraveling violently.
Pain lanced through my skull as the force ripped free, raw and uncontrolled. I cried out, collapsing forward as the power tore itself back into me.
When the silence returned, the chapel was gone.
Only rubble remained.
I lay there, gasping, vision swimming. My limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. The aftermath of the release left me hollow and shaking.
So this was the cost.
Power answered me, yes. But it demanded payment.
Footsteps crunched nearby.
I froze, forcing myself to roll onto my side.
A man stood at the edge of the ruins, hands raised slowly, eyes wide with shock. He was older, his hair streaked with gray, his clothes worn but well-kept. A faint magical aura clung to him, subtle but present.
Not a wolf.
A witch.
"I did not mean to intrude," he said carefully. "But the surge… I felt it miles away."
I struggled to sit up, every muscle protesting. "Then leave."
He hesitated. "You are hurt."
"I'll live."
His gaze sharpened, flicking over the destruction, then back to me. "White Wolf," he murmured.
My heart lurched.
"How do you know that?"
He let out a slow breath. "Because I have spent my life studying the mistakes of the past. And because only one bloodline could have done this without turning the valley to ash."
I pushed myself to my feet, swaying slightly. "If you tell anyone—"
"I won't," he interrupted quietly. "If I wanted to betray you, you would already be surrounded."
That was… uncomfortably true.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"To offer help," he said. "Before your power kills you."
Anger flared instinctively. "I'm not helpless."
"No," he agreed. "You are untrained."
The distinction stung.
He gestured gently toward the ruins. "That wraith fed on imbalance. Your awakening drew it out. You destroyed it, but you also nearly tore yourself apart."
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, I said, "Why help me?"
His expression softened. "Because I once watched a White Wolf die screaming while the world burned around her. And because I will not watch history repeat itself."
The weight of his words settled heavily.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Maeron."
I hesitated, then nodded once. "Arielle."
The name felt stronger each time I said it.
Maeron inclined his head. "If you continue like this, every surge will call others to you. Wolves. Witches. Worse. You need control."
"And you can teach me?"
"I can help you survive long enough to learn it yourself."
A choice.
Again.
I looked at the valley, at the shattered remains of something sacred and forgotten. At my shaking hands.
I did not want to rely on anyone.
But I also did not want to become a weapon I could not sheath.
"Fine," I said finally. "But I don't belong to you."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Good. I have no interest in owning a force of nature."
We left the ruins together as dusk crept across the land.
Far away, bonds strained.
Caelen stood rigid at the edge of a cliff, pain lancing through his chest without warning. He dropped to one knee, breath ragged, the mark on his skin burning.
"She's hurt," he growled.
Other wolves felt it too. A sharp, unsettling echo of fear and power.
The world had noticed her again.
And this time, it would not look away.