Blackness.
But not the unconscious kind. It was not sleep. It was not death.
Aurora felt aware, somehow, even though there was no light. No ground beneath her feet. No wind. No pain.
Only silence. Heavy. Waiting.
She floated — or maybe she was sinking. Her limbs moved slowly, like she was underwater, but nothing touched her. She was not held back by anything.
She realized she wasn't in the forest anymore. The fragrance of pine and moist dirt vanished, leaving behind a faint metallic and antique aroma.
Then that hum again.
Once again, it vibrated beneath her skin. A slow, steady thrum that echoed through her chest.
"You're mine."
Her eyes snapped open — except they already were.
There was no difference between open and closed here. Just endless dark, shifting with things she couldn't quite see.
She tried to turn and she did but she didn't feel any sense of direction. Just pressure. Something near her watching.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
No response.
She just felt warmth along her spine. She shivered — not from fear, but confusion.
Her wolf stirred again. Pacing, alert — but not alarmed.
It was as if something old inside her was answering a call.
Then, light.
It was faint at first. But then she saw a soft red glow far ahead.
It didn't shine. It pulsed. It looked alive and somewhat rhythmic.
Aurora tried to move toward it, but her body didn't respond like it should. It wasn't walking. It was more like being drawn not by her own will.
"This isn't real," she murmured. "I hit my head. I'm dreaming."
The glow pulsed again. A little closer.
The shadows shifted — not malevolent, just… watching, waiting.
Come to me.
The voice again. Very smooth, but threaded with command.
This time, it didn't echo. It landed heavy and sure.
Aurora's breathing quickened. Her skin prickled.
Again, she wanted to ask who it was. What it wanted.
But part of her already knew.
Something deep in her bones stirred like it recognized what she didn't.
She floated closer.
And then it stopped.
The glow, the hum, the pressure — all gone.
Weight returned. Air thickened. Gravity settled back onto her chest.
She slumped forward on her hands and knees, gasping and unintentionally burying herself in moist mud and split leaves.
She was back. The forest again.
She could smell it now: trees, moss, and the distant smoke from the ceremony candles. Somewhere far behind her.
Had she fainted?
Aurora pushed herself upright, trembling. Her palms stung. Her heart still raced.
She looked up.
Nothing there.
No red light. No glow. No portal.
Just trees. Just silence. Just her.
But the whisper still echoed inside her chest.
The forest had never been this quiet before.
Aurora stood there for a moment, arms wrapped tightly around herself, trying to breathe through the knot in her throat. The last thing she remembered clearly was the light. That red glow, and the voice that seemed to pull her apart from the inside out.
But now it was gone.
Everything — the voice, the hum, the warmth beneath her skin — gone suddenly.
And yet, something still clung to her. A faint vibration.
She took a shaky step forward.
Leaves crackled underfoot. That was real. The damp air brushing against her arms was real. The way her chest still ached from the rejection, the shame, the cold burn of humiliation — all of it real.
"Get a grip," she whispered, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair. "You're not crazy. You're not hallucinating."
But even her own voice sounded brittle. It was as if it didn't believe her.
Her fingertips discovered a cut on her forearm, revealing a thin trace of dried blood. Probably from a thorn. But it felt like a wire. Something sharp. Solid. Anchoring her back in her body.
She took another step, then another.
The trees around her seemed older now. Taller. She was deeper in the woods than she'd ever dared before, and though she didn't recognize the terrain, her instincts told her she hadn't left the physical realm.
Not yet.
But something had shifted. She had shifted.
She kept walking without a destination. She just needed to move. The weight in her upper body felt far too heavy to hold while standing on a spot.
Her thoughts replayed the rejection: Kade's words, his eyes almost filled with guilt, then dismissal. The way the pack had looked at her. Some felt sorry for her, while others found it funny. Serena's arrogant look cut through it all.
Her wolf growled low inside her, still hurt and embarrassed. Something sinister was stirring beneath it all.
It wasn't about pain or despair.
It was plain anger at herself. For hoping and believing. For opening her heart just enough for Kade to rip it apart in front of everyone she knew.
Suddenly, a sound snapped her from her thoughts.
A quick and sharp crunch.
She froze.
Then it came again. Behind her this time. Too deliberate to be a deer or rabbit.
Aurora turned slowly, her heart thudding. The trees behind her were still. Silent. But something was there. She could feel it.
"Hello?" she called, voice low and tense.
No answer.
The forest changed again. The air grew heavy — like someone had just entered and was watching her.
Her instincts kicked in, and she backed away. Her wolf was awake now, pacing in her chest. Alert. Still not scared — but not comfortable either.
Another step backward. Then another.
And then a soft laugh — so faint she almost missed it.
Not cruel. Not mocking. Just… amused.
"Who's there?" she snapped, this time louder.
Still nothing.
But her body was reacting again but not with panic. She had this strange awareness like she was being drawn forward by something.
She spun and started walking fast, moving through the trees in the opposite direction. She had no idea where she was heading, but staying still didn't seem like an option.
Branches whipped her arms. Her bare feet slid on wet leaves. Her breath turned sharp in her lungs.
Then she heard movement ahead.
Not big, not clear — just a gleam of red.
She stopped.
But when she looked again, it was gone. Only darkness. And trees.
"You're not running from me."
The voice was back but this time, inside her head. Her knees nearly gave way.
"Stop it," she gasped. "Get out of my head."
But it didn't respond.
Instead, a slow breeze drifted past her neck. Warm. Too warm.
She shivered violently. Her wolf tensed.
She turned again, ready to run.
And then a whisper. From a different voice. Familiar.
"Aurora?"
She stopped cold.
That was Kade's voice.
She turned toward it instinctively, despite the fact that everything inside of her was still sensitive from what had transpired. But a naive part of her still wanted to hear him out.
"Aurora, wait!"
It was definitely him, but it was distant.
She moved toward the voice, then stopped.
Why was he here?
Why now?
She stepped slowly, eyes scanning the trees. Her heart beat faster — not with hope, but unease.
Then a flash — not light, but something visual. A flicker of Kade's face. Smiling. But off. Too still.
She blinked.
Gone.
And that's when she understood.
That wasn't Kade.
It sounded like him.
But it wasn't him.
The forest wasn't letting her go. Not yet.
She dropped to her knees, suddenly dizzy. Her fingers sank into the earth as the strange energy in the air began to buzz again. Similar to the prior hum, but this one was even subtler, slower, and gradually increasing.
Her whole body trembled.
"Stop," she whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "Please. Just stop."
The forest stood still.
Then one last whisper — softer than before.
"Soon."
And just like that, everything calmed.
The pressure lifted.
No light and no voices.
Just her, panting in the dirt, with the moon finally breaking through the leaves above.
Aurora stayed there and snuggled against the roots of a tree. Her fingers were still gripping the damp earth like it was supposed to keep her grounded.
Once more, the forest was eerily silent. No wind, no chirping insects, not even the creak of branches. The only sound was her breathing, shallow and uneven.
Was it over?
Had anything actually happened?
She couldn't tell anymore where her fear ended and where her instinct began. Her brain continued to search for logic, but her body and her inner wolf, surged with something else. Something old and unfamiliar.
She sat back slowly, her spine pressing against the rough bark behind her. Her eyes drifted upward to the sky. The moon was visible again, a thin sliver, pale and far away, just like everything else.
She was alone.
Utterly, terrifyingly alone.
And yet, she wasn't.
There was still that faint presence. Not oppressive now. It was just there. It seemed like something just beyond her reach was watching and waiting.
Her hand moved impulsively to her neck, not because she was in pain, but because she thought something had touched her there.
She felt nothing — only her skin, cool and damp.
But she didn't believe that. Not anymore.
Whatever had whispered to her and reached through the darkness wasn't gone.
It was only just beginning.