Sheila drifted in and out of consciousness.
One moment she was lying on the freezing forest floor, her body bruised and bloodied, the sting of betrayal heavier than the pain in her limbs. The next, voices drifted through the fog in her mind. Low, urgent. Male and female. She couldn't make out the words. Just the sharpness of their tones.
"She's still breathing."
"Leave her. She's a curse waiting to happen."
"No. Wait."
That voice. Calm. Commanding. Female. And familiar.
Sheila groaned softly. Her eyelids fluttered open for a second. The sky was spinning. Trees loomed above her like ancient sentinels.
"She should be dead," a man muttered. "She was thrown past the border. We all know what happens to anything that crosses."
"And yet, she's alive."
A pause.
"She's glowing," the woman said.
Silence followed.
Then, "Get her to the hall. Now."
Sheila blacked out again.
---
When she woke again, the ceiling above her was made of dark wood beams. Candles lined the corners of the small chamber. The scent of herbs—lavender, mint, and something sharper—filled the air. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked.
She tried to sit up but groaned.
"Easy."
That voice again. Closer now.
She turned her head, wincing. A woman sat beside her. Deep brown skin, long white braids, eyes like winter frost. Calm, wise, piercing.
"Who…" Sheila croaked.
"My name is Emery. You're in Silverstone."
Sheila blinked slowly. "I was left to die."
"You were. But you didn't."
A bitter chuckle escaped Sheila's lips. "Lucky me."
Emery didn't smile. "You're not here because of luck."
Sheila swallowed hard. "Why didn't you let me die?"
Emery studied her. "Because something inside you didn't want to."
Sheila looked away. "I'm not what you think I am. I'm not even a wolf. I'm… broken."
Emery leaned forward. "You're more than you understand."
"I don't care," Sheila snapped. "I don't want to be more. I just wanted to shift once. Just once. So my parents wouldn't look at me like I was a mistake. So Kael would—" Her voice cracked. "Never mind."
Emery didn't press. "You'll stay here. Rest. The witches will keep you safe. For now."
Sheila blinked. "The witches?"
A small smile. "Welcome to the sanctuary of Silverstone."
---
The next day, she tried to walk. Her legs trembled like they belonged to someone else. A girl with copper curls, younger than Sheila, brought her broth.
"I'm Lira," the girl said cheerfully. "You've been asleep for almost two days. We thought you were gonna shift in your sleep. Your eyes glowed."
"They did?"
"Oh yeah. Like lightning behind clouds."
Sheila looked away. "I don't shift."
Lira tilted her head. "Yet."
The word felt heavy. Hopeful. Dangerous.
Later, Emery returned. She led Sheila into a circular hall made of stone and glass. The roof was open to the sky. There were other witches, young and old, seated in a ring. At the center was a silver bowl.
"What is this?" Sheila asked.
"We need to see what's inside you."
Sheila hesitated. "You think I'm cursed."
"I think you're hiding someone else's truth inside your skin."
Sheila sat slowly. Emery handed her a small crystal. "Drop of blood. Into the basin."
Sheila pricked her finger. One drop.
It hit the water—and the basin erupted in light. White, silver, and violet. Everyone flinched.
"What the hell—" Lira whispered.
Symbols spun through the air. A crescent moon. A cracked star. And a wolf howling through a storm.
Emery's voice was hushed. "It's her."
"She who?"
"Selene."
Sheila blinked. "No. That's impossible."
"You're her vessel."
"I'm no goddess," Sheila said. "I can't even shift."
"Because your soul isn't whole yet."
Suddenly, the candles flickered. A gust of wind rushed into the chamber though no door had opened.
Emery turned slowly. Her voice lowered. "She's coming."
The witches moved aside.
A little girl entered.
She couldn't have been older than ten. Pale skin. Hair like moonlight. A silk blindfold over her eyes. She walked barefoot, but each step echoed.
"The Oracle," someone whispered.
The child stopped in front of Sheila.
"You're late," she said, her voice soft but oddly ancient.
"I didn't know I was coming," Sheila replied, unsettled.
The Oracle tilted her head. "Your soul has been bleeding for years."
Sheila frowned. "You're not making sense."
"You were born carrying half a goddess. That is a wound no one sees."
Sheila stood. "I'm not her. I'm just—"
The Oracle reached out and touched her chest. Sheila froze.
"There is a lock on your heart. When it breaks, the world will follow."
"I didn't ask for any of this," Sheila whispered.
"No one ever does."
Then the Oracle turned her blindfolded face upward.
"He dreams again," she said. "The one she left behind."
Emery paled. "Are you sure?"
The Oracle nodded. "He calls to her in silence. From the Tower of Whispers."
---
Miles away, in the deepest corner of the Silverstone forest, the old tower trembled.
Chains clanked.
A man sat in darkness.
His body was built like a mountain, covered in runes. Hair long, silver as moonlight. Eyes gold, burning through the shadows.
His breath was shallow. Controlled. But something had changed.
He clenched his fist.
She's near.
---
Back at the sanctuary, Sheila sat in the hall long after everyone left. She stared into the now-still basin.
"What am I supposed to do?" she muttered.
"You don't have to do anything yet."
Emery stepped beside her.
"You expect me to believe I'm a goddess?"
"No. I expect you to believe that something ancient lives inside you, and that it's waking up."
"I can't even shift."
"You will. But only when your soul remembers who it was."
Sheila stood. "And if I don't want to remember?"
Emery's eyes darkened. "Then the last of Selene dies with you."
---
That night, Sheila dreamed.
She stood beneath two moons. One full, bright silver. The other cracked, dripping shadows. A man stood across from her—tall, bare-chested, eyes blazing gold. Chains hung from his wrists, but he wasn't bound. Not really.
"You came late," he said.
"I don't know you."
"You knew me before the stars were born."
"I'm not her."
He stepped closer. "But you are. Even if you've forgotten."
Sheila reached for him—but shadows burst from the ground, dragging him away.
She woke up screaming.
---
The next morning, Emery burst into the chamber.
"Sheila, come. Now."
"What?"
"The Oracle is having a seizure."
Sheila rushed to the circle. The girl lay on the floor, body convulsing, voice whispering things too fast to catch.
"Is she okay?"
"She's channeling something," Emery said. "We need to listen."
The Oracle's voice suddenly stilled.
Then she spoke clearly:
"She was made of two. One soul split to save them all. But if the lock breaks before the soul is whole… she will die. And the wolves will fall."
Sheila gasped. "What does that mean?"
The Oracle's head snapped toward her.
"Beware the mirror. Not every reflection tells the truth."
Then her body went limp.
---
Sheila stood outside later that night. The wind was cold.
"I don't understand any of this," she whispered.
"You will."
Lira appeared at her side. "They say the tower was sealed by Selene herself. To hold back a monster. But what if he wasn't the monster?"
"What do you mean?"
"Sometimes they chain heroes because they're too powerful to control."
Sheila stared at the moon.
Something stirred inside her. A pull. A thread tightening.
Then, a flash.
In the distant trees, a figure.
Tall. Watching.
But when she looked again—it was gone.
---
Meanwhile, deep within the tower, the man stood.
One chain hung broken on the floor.
He stared at the moon, his voice low and rough.
"You forgot me once. But I will make you remember."
He pressed a hand against the wall. A mark glowed beneath his skin.
In Silverstone, Sheila collapsed.
Her eyes rolled back. Her skin burned.
Emery ran to her.
"What's happening?" Lira shouted.
"She's syncing," Emery whispered. "Something's wrong."
Sheila's mouth opened—but a voice not hers came through.
"Too soon… the seal is still cracked… he remembers… and the Devourer is watching."
Then silence.
---
Far beneath the earth, the ancient shadows laughed.
And a pair of red eyes blinked open.