The dream came again.
It drifted in on quiet feet, soft and heavy like mist over a lake, wrapping Aria in a world not quite memory… not quite an imagination.
She stood in a forest of silver trees, their leaves whispering secrets as the wind danced through their branches. Moonlight painted the ground in glowing symbols she couldn't read, and ahead—bathed in light—was a woman with silver hair cascading down her back.
Aria couldn't see her face, but her presence felt like a lullaby from childhood. Safe. Familiar. Ache filled her chest at the sound of the woman's voice.
The words echoed, pulling at something inside her
She reached out. The woman turned—
And the world shattered into a thousand shards of light.
Aria woke with a gasp, her throat dry, her body trembling beneath the thin sheets of her dorm bed. Morning light spilled across the floor, warm and golden, but the chill in her bones clung to her like frost.
She knew dreams weren't always dreams.
Not for wolves.
Not for her.
And certainly not when the same dream returned again and again—haunting and half-formed, as if her mind was protecting her from something she wasn't ready to know.
That phrase clung to her like fog all morning: Your voice is a gift they fear.
Classes passed in a blur. She sat in the back of her history lecture, eyes drifting to the stained-glass windows. The dream felt like it had opened a door—but to what?
As lunch ended, Aria found herself walking toward the east wing of the academy—the oldest part of the school. Few students ever came here unless they were researching obscure bloodlines or ancient werewolf treaties.
But she wasn't searching for anything in particular.
She was following… a feeling.
A whisper.
The doors of the old library groaned as she pushed them open. Dust motes danced in the afternoon sun, and towering shelves lined the room like silent sentinels. Every step echoed beneath her boots.
She didn't know where to start—only that something waited for her.
She weaved through rows of forgotten tomes, past roped-off sections and sealed cases. Then, in a dark corner hidden behind a shelf of outdated scrolls, something caught her eye.
A small, battered journal wedged between volumes of territorial law.
Aria reached for it, her fingers brushing leather faded by time. There was no title. No name.
She opened it.
"They took my voice, but not my truth."
Her pulse spiked.
She turned the page.
Her hands trembled.
Each word carved into the page felt like it had been etched from her own heart. The writer spoke in raw, aching honesty—of isolation, of being different, of powers that flickered beneath the surface and terrified those who didn't understand.
The next entry was older. Scratched, nearly torn through the page:
"They said I was cursed. That my voice would unravel what was built.So they silenced me with potions. With fear.With shame.But my wolf still remembers who are"
Aria clutched the book to her chest, her breath hitching.
She wasn't alone.
Whoever this person was—whoever had written these confessions—they had once stood where she stood now. Voiceless. Doubted. But not broken.
Never broken.
And maybe, just maybe, neither was she.
Across the courtyard…
Kieran sat in his office, staring out the window. His thoughts drifted—again—to Aria. There was something different about her. He'd sensed it even before the bond had flickered to life.
He didn't understand it yet, but he knew power when he saw it. And something ancient hummed inside that girl.
He only hoped she didn't uncover it too fast.
Because if she did…
The world might not be ready.
And neither was he.
Aria sank into a small alcove hidden between two towering shelves, the journal resting in her lap. Around her, the library remained frozen in time—dusty, hushed, and forgotten by most. She felt like she had stepped into a sacred space, one not meant for prying eyes.
She flipped through more pages, each revealing snippets of the unknown girl's life.
"The moon speaks to me. Not in words, but in pulses. I can feel it inside me—stirring, shifting. They said wolves without a voice couldn't shift. They lied."
Aria's breath hitched.
Was that true?
Could she…?
Her wolf had never responded the way others did. No howling presence in the back of her mind. No feral voice. But it existed. She could feel its dormant heat, like embers under her skin.
The entries grew more frantic.
"He warned me. The instructor. He saw what I was becoming and said it would destroy me. But he never feared me. Only what the others would do if they found out."
Aria's thoughts immediately flew to Kieran.
Could this be… about him?
No—it couldn't be. This journal looked ancient. The handwriting, though steady, had faded with time. But the similarity was too striking. Could another instructor, long ago, have shared something deeper with a girl like her?
She flipped to the final page.
Her throat tightened and she was anxious. A tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it.
For the first time in years, she didn't feel cursed. She felt… chosen.
That evening, long after most students had gone to their dorms, Aria remained in the library. She copied down the most important entries into her sketchbook, her hands moving swiftly, almost urgently. She needed this connection—this proof that her silence had purpose. That she wasn't broken.
She turned the journal over, inspecting the back cover. A faint engraving shimmered under the candlelight—barely visible, almost erased by time.
It was a symbol.
A crescent moon wrapped around a flame.
Something about it made her pulse quicken.
She had seen that symbol before—on one of the academy's restricted corridor doors.
Why would a forgotten journal share a mark with something locked behind wards and secrecy?
She traced the edge of the symbol with her fingertip, her thoughts swirling. There was a story buried here. One that connected her to the academy in ways no one had explained.
And now, she was determined to uncover it.
Meanwhile, in Kieran's office…
The candle on his desk flickered. He looked up, sensing the shift again.
Aria.
His wolf stirred, restless. A low hum buzzed beneath his skin. The bond was growing stronger—faster than it should.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he reached for the old academy ledger. He flipped to a page marked with a ribbon and scanned the names of past students, searching.
Then he stopped.
There it was. A name he hadn't heard in years.
Elara Wryn.
He exhaled slowly.
So that's where Aria got it.
Back in the library, Aria closed the journal and stood, cradling it carefully in her arms. She'd return it—she had to—but not before she read every word. Not before she learned who Elara had been. And not before she figured out why her name had been erased from history.
The silence wasn't empty anymore.
It was full of secrets.
And now, it was time she learned to listen.