The horn wailed again, echoing like a death cry through the frozen forest.
Lucien's men moved with ruthless precision—blades drawn, eyes scanning the shadows, forming a tight ring around the fire. Arielle stood just inside the perimeter, her heartbeat a wild rhythm beneath her skin.
Then the wind shifted—and she smelled it.
Rot.
Magic.
And blood.
Lucien turned his head slightly, speaking low without looking at her. "Whatever happens, do not run. They feed on fear."
"They?" Arielle whispered.
He didn't answer.
The trees across the ravine trembled. Something moved.
Not wolves.
Not rogues.
But men with eyes like coal, wrapped in furs stained with blood, their weapons jagged and rusted. At their center stood a tall figure with pale skin and a necklace of sharp teeth. His mouth twisted into a smile when he saw Lucien.
"Well, well," the stranger drawled. "The Crimson pup himself."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "Luca Ravage. Still collecting bones like trophies?"
The man bowed mockingly. "Still pretending you're not your father's shadow?"
Lucien growled low in his throat, but didn't rise to the bait.
Arielle couldn't look away from Luca. There was something wrong about him. His scent—if it could even be called that—smelled of oil and poison. Not wolf. Not fully human.
"What do you want?" Lucien demanded.
Luca's eyes gleamed as they landed on Arielle. "She smells… different."
Arielle's body locked. She felt his gaze like ice crawling over her skin.
"She's nothing to you," Lucien snapped, stepping in front of her. "Turn back now."
Luca chuckled. "Oh, prince. You think I came for a fight?"
He raised a hand.
His men surged forward.
---
Everything happened too fast.
Lucien met the charge head-on, shifting mid-leap into a sleek, black-furred beast—fast, brutal, deadly. His soldiers followed suit. Steel clashed with teeth, howls split the sky, and the snow stained red.
Arielle ducked beneath a tent flap, but a hunter lunged straight for her.
No time. No weapon.
She raised her hands—and screamed.
But it wasn't fear.
It was something older.
---
The hunter stopped mid-lunge, his body twisting in the air, caught in a sudden blast of force that erupted from her palms. Wind and fire—not real fire, but something wild and glowing—shoved him backwards, flinging him into a tree with a crack like thunder.
The camp froze.
Even the fighting paused.
Lucien turned, blood dripping from his jaws.
And Arielle stood there, shaking, her eyes glowing gold, her veins pulsing with energy she didn't recognize.
Everyone stared.
Even Luca looked rattled.
"Well," he murmured. "That's new."
He backed away slowly. "This one's not ready yet. But when she is… we'll be waiting."
Then he vanished into the shadows, his men disappearing with him like smoke.
---
Lucien shifted back into human form, chest heaving. He stared at her for a long time, silent.
Arielle dropped to her knees, gasping for breath, the glow fading from her eyes.
"I… I didn't mean to—"
"You've never trained," Lucien said, cutting her off. "You've never even shifted."
She shook her head slowly.
"That power shouldn't be possible," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "Not for someone unawakened."
Arielle looked up at him, trembling.
"What am I?"
Lucien knelt in front of her, his eyes no longer cold—but not soft either.
He touched her face gently, like she might vanish if he blinked.
"That," he whispered, "is what I intend to find out."
---