Chapter Two
1771 Words
Ashley woke before the sun.
The house was silent except for the low groan of the pipes and the tick of the kitchen clock down the hall. It was a silence she had grown used to—empty, cold, the kind that wrapped around her throat more tightly with each passing year.
But today, something was different.
Her body felt tense, like her skin didn’t quite fit. Her breath came too easily. Her blood moved like it had somewhere to be. Every sense was sharp—too sharp.
She sat up slowly.
And then—
Happy birthday, Ashley.
The voice filled her mind like a sudden flame catching on dry leaves. Not a whisper. Not a dream. A presence.
Ashley jerked upright. Her pulse stuttered.
“Who said that?”
I did. I am you. And you are me.
My name is Saphire.
The name echoed deep in her bones, like a long-lost song she somehow knew the words to. It wasn’t frightening. It was… right.
Her feet touched the cold floor. She rose and moved toward the mirror on instinct, like she was being pulled by something older than memory.
She stared.
Her black hair, tangled and wild from sleep, framed a pale face that had always looked a little too sharp, a little too strange. And her eyes—icy blue and burning with something new— stared back at her like she was a stranger wearing her own skin.
You’ve always been more than what they told you, Saphire said gently.
You were never meant to be small.
Ashley’s throat tightened.
She gripped the edge of the sink and whispered, “If I’m a werewolf… then why the hell am I living with a disgusting, abusive human?”
The silence that followed was heavy—not avoidance. Restraint.
I wish I could tell you everything now, Saphire said softly.
But some truths are locked to protect you. The goddess sealed them for a reason.
I cannot give you what you are not yet ready to hold.
Ashley’s jaw clenched. “That’s not good enough.”
I know.
But tonight, we run.
Ashley stared at her reflection. At the wolf just behind her eyes.
Then she shook her head.
“No. I’m not waiting until tonight.”
Ashley—
“I’m not staying here another second.”
She was trembling—but it wasn’t fear. It was adrenaline. Rage. Freedom.
“I’m done being hurt. Done being invisible. I don’t care what the goddess thinks I’m ready for.” Her voice hardened. “I’m leaving. Now.”
Saphire fell quiet.
Then, calmly:
Then we run now.
Ashley grabbed her backpack from the floor. A few clothes. A toothbrush. Her sketchbook. The small notebook where she wrote things she could never say out loud.
That was it. Her whole life in one threadbare bag.
She looked around the room one last time. The cracked walls. The sagging mattress. The window that never quite sealed in winter.
She opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Mr. Cain was still snoring on the couch downstairs, his beer can tipped over beside him. The hallway light flickered once, then steadied.
She didn’t tiptoe this time.
She walked. Head up, shoulders square.
She opened the front door and stepped into the cold morning air. The sky was still dark, the stars just beginning to fade into dawn. A wind stirred through the trees in the distance.
It smelled like pine. Like rain.
Like freedom.
She shut the door behind her. Firm. Final.
Not a whisper.
A statement.
And she walked away.
Ashley didn’t look back.
She walked with purpose at first, sticking to side streets, hugging the shadows. The town was still asleep—porch lights flickering, windows dark, the air damp and quiet. Only the occasional dog barked in the distance, as if sensing something that didn’t belong.
Or something that finally did.
Her backpack weighed almost nothing. Not because it was light, but because something inside her had gone numb—a sharp, focused numbness that burned away hunger and fear.
East, Saphire murmured gently. Toward the trees. Toward the wild.
Ashley didn’t question it.
By the time the sun cracked the horizon, she’d left the edge of town behind. The roads narrowed into gravel, then dirt. The houses thinned. The trees thickened.
She kept walking.
Her feet hurt. Her breath came harder now. But she didn’t stop.
Branches brushed her arms. Mud slicked her shoes. The forest greeted her not like a stranger, but like something it had lost and was now reclaiming.
Do you feel it? Saphire asked.
Ashley nodded, too breathless to answer aloud.
Yes.
She felt everything.
By late afternoon, her legs were shaking. Her body—underfed and overtired—ached with every step. Her stomach twisted in on itself. She hadn't eaten in over a day.
That’s when she saw it—a narrow path veering off from the trail. Faint. Overgrown. But deliberate. It felt like it was calling her.
She followed it.
It led her to a clearing.
The trees opened up like a secret being revealed, sunlight pouring in gentle shafts onto soft moss and flat stone. A shallow creek sang nearby. And in the center of it all, seated calmly on a large, twisted root, was a woman.
Ashley froze.
She wore layers of deep green and charcoal gray—robes, maybe, or just a cloak woven from the woods themselves. Her silver-streaked hair was braided down her back, and her skin was the color of aged parchment. Wrinkled but strong.
She looked up as Ashley stepped into view.
And smiled.
“I was wondering how long it would take you,” the woman said, her voice smooth like still water. “You’re later than I expected, but not late enough to worry.”
Ashley blinked. “Who are you?”
The woman rose to her feet with slow grace. “Names aren’t always the most important thing. But you may call me Maela. And I’m here because the Moon Goddess told me you’d be coming.”
Ashley took a step back, instincts flaring. “You knew I’d be here?”
“I’ve been waiting for you, child.” Maela motioned to a small cloth bundle beside her. “The goddess said you’d be hungry.”
She opened it to reveal simple food: a small loaf of herb bread, a few slices of dried meat, and a flask of water.
Ashley hesitated.
She speaks true, Saphire said softly. She carries the mark of the goddess. I feel it.
Ashley stepped forward slowly, her stomach doing all the thinking. She knelt beside the cloth and reached for the bread. It was still warm.
She hadn’t realized how close she was to collapsing until she took the first bite.
Maela knelt across from her, hands folded in her lap. “You’ve already made the hardest choice—leaving the cage behind. That was your first test. You passed.”
Ashley swallowed thickly, eyes narrowing. “Is this another test?”
Maela smiled faintly. “Everything from here on is.”
Ashley didn’t answer. She just ate. Slowly. Gratefully.
Saphire stayed quiet, but her presence pulsed warmly beneath Ashley’s skin—watchful, calm.
When the food was gone, Maela stood.
“You won’t see me again for a while. But remember this: the forest knows your name. The goddess is watching. And the ones who scattered… they’ll hear the call soon.”
She began walking toward the far edge of the clearing.
“Wait,” Ashley called. “Why me?”
Maela paused, glancing back over her shoulder with eyes far older than her face. “Because only the lost can lead the forgotten home.”
And then she vanished—not walked away, but disappeared, swallowed by the forest like a breath fading into wind.
That night, Ashley curled beneath a thick pine with the sounds of the creek beside her and a full belly for the first time in days.
No walls. No locked doors. No shouting.
Just sky.
Just stars.
Just Saphire—warm and steady within her.
You did well, the wolf whispered. Tomorrow, we begin.
Night fell gently in the clearing.
The moon rose above the treetops, soft and full, casting silver light across Ashley’s skin as she lay curled beneath a pine tree. The breeze was cold, but not cruel. She pulled her hood tighter and closed her eyes, letting her body fall into sleep for the first time since everything changed.
And then—
The dream took her.
Flames.
Everywhere.
She was running through smoke and screaming, her bare feet pounding scorched earth. Trees cracked like bones. Wolves—hundreds of them—howled in agony and rage.
She turned a corner, and there it was: a massive stone keep rising from the center of a forest clearing. Its banners were black with silver embroidery—a moon and a wolf entwined in a circle of thorns.
The symbol of Blackmire.
And it was burning.
A child cried out—a toddler, ash-covered, hiding beneath a stone slab. A woman with long, dark hair pulled the child close and bared her teeth as a shadow stepped into the light, sword drawn.
The woman’s eyes—Ashley’s eyes—burned blue before she lunged.
Then came the roar.
A massive black wolf—larger than a horse, eyes glowing like fire—threw itself between the woman and the attacker. Blood sprayed the air. Screams echoed. The earth cracked open beneath her feet.
Ashley reached for them—
She jolted awake, breath ragged, heart pounding like a drum.
The stars above hadn't moved much. The fire hadn’t been real.
But the ache in her chest was.
You saw it, Saphire whispered.
The night the world changed.
Ashley pressed a hand to her chest, her palm damp with sweat. “Was that my mother?”
Yes.
And your father.
They died fighting to save you.
Ashley sat up slowly, the dream clinging to her like smoke.
“Why show me now?”
Because the blood that was spilled still cries for justice.
And the wolves who scattered are waiting for your howl.
But first… you must remember everything.
Ashley looked up at the moon, full and heavy with promise.
“I will,” she whispered. “Whatever it takes.”
The wind moved gently through the trees, like the forest had heard her vow.
And for the first time in her life, Ashley didn’t feel like she was running.
She felt like she was returning.
- Writer
