The road stretched endlessly ahead of us, the forest slowly thinning as signs of civilization began to appear. Stone paths replaced dirt trails, the air changed—less pine and earth, more smoke, metal, and something unfamiliar. The city announced itself long before we reached its gates: distant voices, clattering wheels, and the low hum of life packed too tightly together.
I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag as the towering walls of the city finally came into view.
"By the Moon…" Misty breathed beside me. "It's even bigger than I imagined."
I let out a shaky laugh. "You're telling me. I don't think the fortress courtyard could fit inside this place even ten times over."
The gates were massive, iron-bound and guarded by men who looked bored more than threatening. They barely spared us a glance as we passed through, just two young women blending into the steady flow of travelers. And just like that, we were inside.
The city was alive.
People moved everywhere—laughing, shouting, arguing, selling, buying. Stalls lined the streets, overflowing with fabrics, food, trinkets, and things I couldn't even name. Children ran past us, nearly colliding with my legs before darting away again. Somewhere nearby, music played—fast and chaotic, nothing like the measured drums of the pack festivals.
I felt small. Invisible. And strangely… free.
Misty spun in a slow circle, eyes bright. "Scar, look! No one's staring. No whispers. No looks."
She was right. No one here knew who I was. No one knew I was the Alpha King's daughter. No one knew I was wolf-less. To them, I was just another face in the crowd.
The realization made my chest loosen in a way I hadn't expected.
"We really did it," I murmured. "We actually left."
Misty grinned. "And we survived the dramatic farewell. I'd say that's a good sign."
We found our apartment just before noon—a modest place tucked above a bakery, its windows open to let warm air and the scent of fresh bread drift inside. It wasn't grand, but it was ours. Two small bedrooms, a shared living space, creaky floors, and a balcony that overlooked a bustling street.
Misty dropped her bag and flopped onto the floor dramatically. "I call this officially home."
I laughed, setting my bag down more carefully. "You always have to be dramatic."
"It's a talent," she replied without shame.
As the afternoon passed, we unpacked, argued playfully over space, and made plans we didn't quite know how to follow yet. Jobs. School. Training. Life outside the pack wasn't structured or predictable, and that both thrilled and terrified me.
Later, as dusk painted the sky in deep purples and golds, we stepped out to explore. Lanterns flickered to life, casting warm glows across stone streets. The city at night felt different—quieter, but heavier somehow, like secrets lived here after sunset.
"Coffee first," Misty declared. "City tradition. I'm sure of it."
We found a small café on the corner, its windows fogged from warmth and chatter. Inside, we claimed a table near the back, our shoulders brushing as we sat. I wrapped my hands around the warm cup they brought me, breathing in deeply.
"This feels…" I searched for the right word. "Normal."
Misty raised an eyebrow. "Normal good or normal boring?"
"Normal peaceful," I said. "For once, I don't feel like I'm being watched."
Her teasing expression softened. "You deserve that, Scar. More than anyone."
We talked about everything and nothing—what jobs we might take, which streets we liked best, how strange it felt to hear sirens instead of howls at night. For a while, I forgot about expectations, prophecies I didn't fully understand, and the weight of being someone's daughter.
Then, as we stood to leave, I felt it.
A strange sensation brushed against my awareness—like static before a storm. Subtle. Brief. Gone before I could grasp it.
I frowned slightly.
"You okay?" Misty asked.
"Yeah," I said after a moment. "Just… tired, I think."
She nodded, looping her arm through mine as we stepped back onto the street. "Big day. Big city. You'll get used to it."
But the feeling didn't fully leave me.
Over the next few days, we settled into a routine. I found work at a small bookshop—quiet, tucked away, filled with stories I lost myself in whenever the shop was empty. Misty worked evenings at a training hall, helping teach combat forms and physical conditioning. Even among humans, her confidence and strength stood out.
At night, we'd collapse into our shared living space, exhausted but smiling, trading stories about our days.
Still… that strange feeling returned now and then.
A pull in my chest when I walked certain streets. A flicker of awareness when I locked eyes with strangers who seemed to look just a second too long. I brushed it off every time. The city was overwhelming—that was all.
One evening, as Misty showered, I stepped onto the balcony alone. The city stretched endlessly below me, lights twinkling like fallen stars. Somewhere out there, beyond these streets, my father watched the same moon I did.
"I'm okay," I whispered into the night, unsure who I was speaking to. "I'm really okay."
The wind stirred, brushing my hair back gently, almost like a touch.
I shivered and went back inside.
Unbeknownst to me, eyes were beginning to notice.
From shadows tucked deep within the city, whispers spread—rumors of a presence that didn't belong, of something old and dangerous stirring after years of silence. Far away, across territories, an Alpha lifted his head as an unfamiliar pull tugged at his senses, sharp and undeniable.
Fate had begun to move.
And while I slept that night, unaware and dreaming of forests and laughter, the first threads of destiny quietly tightened around my life.
The city had welcomed us with open arms.
But it was only the beginning.