CHAPTER THREE
1185 Words
Not Ordinary
“Uncle! Uncle! Her heartbeat is back!”
The voice was tiny, excited—like chimes in the wind—and far away. I heard the light stomping of small feet on the mattress before the sound settled into a hush.
“Stacy, get down,” a deeper voice replied, calm but firm. “She needs rest.”
That voice… I knew it. Alpha Dale.
I blinked slowly, the world returning in blurred hues of blue and white. A ceiling with intricate carvings swam into view. The sheets beneath me were soft—too soft. Not dungeon hay. Not cold stone. I inhaled sharply. The air smelled like cedarwood and lavender.
Alive?
I turned my head. A little girl peeked from behind Alpha Dale, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she pointed at me.
“Uncle, see? She’s awake!”
I offered the faintest smile. She was adorable—brown curls, wide eyes, and the spark of innocence I hadn’t seen in years.
I looked around. The room was grand, painted in varying shades of blue—deep sapphire curtains, pale sky-colored walls, navy cushions. It reminded me of peace. Of a life I never had.
“Where… where am I?” My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
Alpha Dale took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “By the river. My niece and I were out on a run when I found you at the edge.”
“At the edge?” I whispered, trying to grasp the foggy pieces of memory. The water. The fall. The glowing wolf.
“She was floating,” the little girl chimed in from behind him. “Like a fairy. I told Uncle you were magic.”
Alpha Dale offered a rare smile.
“You’re back,” he said, studying me carefully. “But… different.”
“Different?” I ran a trembling hand over my face, trying to understand. My skin felt softer, warmer. My fingertips tingled.
A gentle knock on the door interrupted the moment.
“Come in,” Dale called.
A woman entered, middle-aged, with her dark hair tied back into a low bun. She wore a crisp white blouse tucked into a shimmering gold skirt and held a tray with sandwiches and tea.
“What’s different about me?” I asked cautiously.
“Jane,” he said, “get her a mirror.”
The woman nodded and moved to the dressing table drawer, pulled open a drawer, brought out a medium-sized mirror, walked back to where I lay, and placed it gently in my hands.
I sat up slowly, the weight of my body unfamiliar.
I raised the mirror to my face.
And froze.
My breath caught in my throat.
My hair—once a dull brown—now shimmered in burgundy tones, darker near the roots, almost black. My lips had taken on a richer hue, a darker rose pink, almost surreal. My skin glowed faintly, as though kissed by the moonlight itself.
“What…?” I whispered. I touched the ends of my hair, felt the strands slip through my fingers.
It wasn’t a dream.
Something had happened to me in that water.
But what?
My thoughts were interrupted by the little girl, still peeking with wide, curious eyes. I offered her a small smile.
“Hey, girl,” I said gently. “Come.”
She stepped forward slowly, holding onto her dress as she approached.
“What’s your name?”
She glanced at me, then quickly away. “My name is Stacy Dale and I’m six years old!” she blurted in one breath.
I chuckled softly. “You’re fast.”
“Five, Stacy,” Alpha Dale corrected from behind.
She pouted. “Almost six.”
Then she looked at me with wonder. “Can I call you Aunty?”
I nodded, unable to help the smile that formed on my lips. “Of course.”
She squealed, jumping excitedly on the spot. “I want hair like yours, Aunty! It’s so pretty!”
For a brief moment, I forgot everything—the dungeon, the betrayal, the pain. Watching her laugh, so carefree… It was like glimpsing the childhood I never got to have.
“Stacy, go with Jane now. She’ll get you breakfast.”
“No,” she said stubbornly. “I want to stay with Aunty.”
“Jane,” Dale said with quiet authority, “please take her.”
Jane gently pulled Stacy toward the door, and the little girl waved at me before disappearing.
The silence that followed was different. Weighted.
I glanced at the tray beside me.
“You can eat,” Dale said as he walked over to a seat near the door. “You haven’t had food in a week.”
I ate quickly, starving. Sandwiches and warm tea. I didn’t even care that the tea was bland.
As I finished, I wiped my mouth and looked straight at him.
“What is it you want to talk about?”
His eyes held something unreadable. “When I found you… you had no pulse. You didn’t for an entire week. We kept you warm, hoping for a miracle. And then this morning—your heart started beating again.”
A week?
“You were declared dead,” he added quietly. “I was refunded the twenty million.”
I paused. “You still haven’t answered the real question.”
He frowned. “Which is?”
“What were you doing at the auction in the first place?” I asked coldly. “That hall was full of monsters. Power-hungry men who treat lives like currency. And you… you were there too.”
The silence stretched.
He didn’t flinch. “I was there to stop something. But I couldn’t save everyone. Not in that moment.”
Not good enough.
“And now?” I asked, staring him down. “What happens to me? Since I was sold to you… what now?”
“You weren’t,” he said. “Not anymore. The auction canceled your sale after the announcement of your death.”
My eyes narrowed. That answer didn’t sit well.
He tilted his head. “Deanna… do you feel anything different? Inside you? Try.”
I hesitated, then closed my eyes. I tried to focus inward—to feel what had changed. But nothing felt clear. Just a faint pulse behind my temples.
Then—pain.
A sharp throb spiked in my forehead.
I winced.
“You’re still adjusting,” he said softly. “The maids cleaned you before you woke. If you’d like a proper bath, call Jane. She’s just outside.”
He stood, walking toward the door. But before he left, he paused.
“One last thing,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“From what I saw that night by the river, Deanna… you’re not ordinary.”
He stepped out, the door clicking softly behind him.
And I was left staring at the mirror in my lap.
Not ordinary.
Not human?
Not dead?
I didn't have the answers.
But whatever I was now…
It had begun.
- Writer
