The Spirit Luna: Fragmented Soul

Waking Up

Cadence POV

I was running before I even knew I was dreaming. The forest spread out around me, silver light pooling beneath the trees, mist curling at my ankles. Every step felt weightless, yet the ground responded to me as if I were tethered to it. I couldn’t see the moon, but I knew it was high above, guiding me. My chest rose and fell with a rhythm that wasn’t quite my own — a pulse I didn’t understand but recognized as mine, or maybe not.

Then I saw it.

A white wolf. Pale as snow, with eyes like melted silver, reflecting pieces of my own heart. It didn’t growl, didn’t shift on its feet. It just… existed, and everything in the forest seemed to bend toward it. I froze, unsure if I should approach. But the wolf didn’t move either — it waited, patient, like it had been waiting for me for a long time I couldn’t measure.

I felt a tug in my chest, a wordless recognition that set every nerve on fire. This was mine. Not mine in the way you own a thing, but in the way you know it belongs to you, the way your body hums when you meet a person you’ve always needed, even if you don’t know it.

The wolf stepped closer. Its gaze softened, and in that gaze, I saw myself — not just reflected, but fractured and whole at the same time. And then, in a voice that wasn’t voice, in a feeling that wasn’t sound, it spoke to me.

Run with me.

I didn’t need to question it. My legs moved on instinct, heart thrumming in tandem with a rhythm that wasn’t mine alone. Trees blurred past, the mist thickened, and the wolf’s presence wrapped around me like warmth I hadn’t felt in years. And then — as suddenly as it had appeared — it was gone, leaving only a lingering heat in my chest, a memory I couldn’t forget.

I woke with a start.

The world was not silver anymore. It was warm and dim, and I was pressed into soft sheets that smelled faintly of cedar and something else… something intoxicating. My eyes flicked open, taking in the room in blurry focus. The fight — the chaos — it all hit me in fragments. Shadows in the corners, the echo of claws on concrete, growls that had shaken the night air. My body ached, bruises blooming beneath my skin like dark, whispered secrets.

And then I recognized it.

The scent.

It wasn’t just cedar or wood. There was leather, faint smoke, and that unique, impossible warmth that was undeniably him. Regan. My heart thumped unevenly at the recognition, heat blooming in places I wasn’t sure my body should even know existed.

I shifted slightly, and the sheets rustled beneath me. The smell enveloped me, anchoring me more firmly to the bed and the person who had somehow claimed it as his own presence without even being here yet. My mind tried to catch up.

I remembered the fight — flashes, claw marks, the horrifying grace of the wolves tearing at each other.

I tried to move, to sit up, but every muscle ached as if I’d been fighting for my life, and in a way, I had. My hand brushed over the sheet, lingering over the faint warmth that remained from where he must have been. I swallowed, feeling the taste of something sweet and strange, like anticipation mixed with fear.

And then I noticed the light. Soft, golden morning slanting through blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled bed. The warmth of it, the softness of the sheets, the lingering heat — it was a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality of last night.

I wasn’t alone for long.

The door opened silently, just a whisper against the floor, and Regan stepped in. His gaze found me instantly, the air between us taut and alive, like electricity waiting to snap. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The scent that had told me where I was told him everything he needed to know too.

“Cadence,” he said finally, voice low, careful, carrying both relief and something else I couldn’t name yet. His eyes swept over me, taking in the tousled hair, the way my lashes rested against my cheeks, the tension in my shoulders.

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, words catching somewhere between panic and exhaustion. Instead, I settled for a small, almost imperceptible nod.

He moved closer, slow, deliberate, each step measured. The air seemed to thrum with our proximity, and I could feel it in the curve of my spine, the way my pulse echoed in my ears. He stopped just short of the bed, and I realized I was holding my breath.

“You were in the middle of it,” he said, softer now, his voice threading into the room like warmth. “You shouldn’t have been.”

I swallowed again, trying to reconcile the dream, the fight, and the quiet intimacy of this moment. The wolf — my wolf — lingered at the edges of my mind. Its presence hummed like an invisible thread connecting me to something I couldn’t name, something I could barely comprehend.

Then I membered the black wolf and something about it reminded me of Regan. What was going on? My rational mind just could not piece together this puzzle without making ludicrous leaps into conspiracy theories or the mythological - were- no. Rediculous. I couldn't finish the thought.

“You’re safe now,” he said, reaching out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His fingers lingered for a heartbeat too long, and I felt a heat rise in my chest that wasn’t from the fight or the fear. It was something else, something slower, deeper, more intimate. My pulse quickened at the touch, at the nearness, at the unspoken claim of him in this quiet morning light.

I couldn’t look away. My gaze flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes. They were steady, focused entirely on me.

“You smell like the forest,” I murmured, my voice rough, more intimate than I intended. “Like… fire and pine and—” I swallowed again, realizing I was trailing into vulnerability I didn’t usually allow.

Regan smiled faintly, a soft, almost imperceptible curve that made the tight coil of my chest loosen. He crouched slightly, leaning in, and I caught a hint of his breath, warm and grounding. “And you smell like moonlight and fresh cut grass,” he said, voice low, teasing but tender.

I blinked, startled by the intensity of it.

I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the warmth, the proximity, the undeniable pull between us. Every muscle ached, every nerve thrummed, and yet I felt a strange peace settle over me, threading through the chaos of last night. I was alive.

I opened my eyes, and he was still there, the morning light casting shadows across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze. My hand twitched toward him, almost on its own, drawn by the invisible thread that seemed to stretch between us.

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He only smiled faintly.

“What happened to Jar?” I asked. Reality was catching up to me. How had I ended up here? Had Jar called Regan? They were friends. But why not take me back to the dorm? It was as if a magic spell had been broken and my scientific, rational brain took over.

Irritation flashed on Regan's face, so briefly, it felt like I imagined it.

"He's fine. I'm sure you have questions. Jar brought you here as it was closer than the dorm. He said you fainted. Come. I'll take you to the lounge. You're hungry, right?"

My stomach growled tight on cue. Embarrassed, I got up, still in my work uniform, and swung my legs out onto the stone floor.

Regan held out his hand, which I took greatfully, and he led me out of the bedroom.

My mind raced as everything I'd experienced flooded over me. Somewhere deep in the back of my mind, the white wolf stirred, whispering in memory, reminding me of the bond I didn’t understand yet. As I felt Regan’s presence beside me, solid and grounding, I realized that the world had changed. Everything had changed.