The fire didn't start in my skin; it started in my marrow.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon on that first night without the Manna, my vision was vibrating. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer striking an anvil inside my skull. I didn't even make it to the bed. I collapsed onto the thick rug, my fingers clawing at the wool as the first wave of withdrawal hit.
The next few days—or was it weeks?—were a blur of agony and shadows. My bones weren't just aching; they were breaking and resetting, a violent internal shifting as the Azure Sleep finally let go of its grip.
But through the haze of the fever, something changed.
In the deepest, darkest hour of my delirium, the silence in my head finally broke. It wasn't a voice at first. It was a pulse. A low, rhythmic thrumming that matched the beat of my own heart.
"Wake up," a voice whispered.
It wasn't a human voice. It was a low, melodic growl that resonated through my very DNA.
"Who are you?" I thought, my mind drifting in a sea of white heat.
"I am you," the voice replied, stronger now. "And you are me. They kept us in the dark, little star. They fed us ice to put out our fire. But the fire is back."
For the first time in twenty years, the "hollow" feeling in my chest vanished. I felt a presence—ancient, powerful, and fiercely protective—wrap around my consciousness. It was my wolf. She wasn't a "dud." She wasn't malformed. She was a coiled spring of silver light, finally stretching after a lifetime in a cage.
"Rest now," she hummed, and the pain that had been tearing me apart suddenly softened into a dull thrum. "I will hold the gates until the poison is gone."
Under her protection, the fever dreams turned strange.
I was no longer alone in the dark. I felt a presence beside me—a mountain of heat that kept the winter of the withdrawal at bay. I couldn't open my eyes, and my mind was too heavy to form a name, but I felt a connection. A tether.
It was a pull in my gut, a golden thread that seemed to link my soul to whoever was sitting in the shadows.
I felt a hand graze my hair. It was a large, calloused hand, yet it moved with the delicacy of someone touching a glass wing. I smelled sandalwood. I smelled rain. I smelled the scent of a king.
In my semi-conscious state, I leaned into that touch. I didn't know who it was, and I didn't care. In the midst of my agony, that scent was the only thing that felt like home. I felt a pair of lips press against my temple—a gesture so tender, so fleeting, that I was sure I had imagined it.
"Mate?" my wolf whispered, her voice a tiny, confused spark.
"No," I thought, even in my sleep. "Julian is my mate. And Julian hates me."
The presence beside me growled—a sound so low it made the floorboards vibrate—and the golden tether pulled tighter, as if rejecting my thought.
When I finally woke, the room was blindingly bright.
I lay still for a long time, breathing in the clear, crisp air. The heavy, grey fog in my brain was gone. For the first time in my life, the world looked... sharp. My senses were heightened; I could hear the birds in the trees a mile away. I could hear the servants whispering in the kitchen downstairs.
And I could hear her. A soft, satisfied purr in the back of my mind. "We are whole," she whispered.
I sat up, my body weak but no longer broken.
Mrs. Vance entered a moment later, her eyes widening. "You're awake. The Alpha said the cleansing would take its toll, but your color is already returning."
"He was here," I said, my voice a dry rasp. I touched my temple, where the phantom kiss still felt warm. "Silas. He stayed with me. I felt a... a connection."
Mrs. Vance didn't look at me as she adjusted the curtains. "The Alpha has been at the Council meetings in the city for the last week, child. He has a pack to run. He doesn't have time for nursing 'assets.' You likely dreamed it. The withdrawal causes vivid hallucinations."
I sank back into the pillows. Hallucinations.
Of course. The Silas Thorne I knew was a man who traded wives for debts. He wasn't a man who stayed up all night holding a "dud" in his arms.
But as I reached for the water on the nightstand, I stopped. The scent of sandalwood and rain was still there, clinging to the pillowcases, faint but undeniable.
I looked at the door. I hated Silas Thorne. I hated that he had bought me. But as my wolf let out a low, predatory growl of agreement, I realized that whatever "hallucination" I'd had... it was the only thing that had kept me alive.
"Mrs. Vance?" I called out as she reached the door.
"Yes, Madam?"
"Tell the Alpha I'm awake. And tell him... I'm ready for my first day of service."