The Journal
811 Words
The next morning, Rhea stared at her reflection. Her eyes looked different. Brighter. Sharper. Her skin hummed like a current ran beneath it. She ran a hand over her chest, where her heartbeat thudded faster than usual. Something inside her had shifted. Not just emotionally, but physically.
Everything felt different after that night. The forest, Lucci, her own heartbeat. It was like something old had been awakened, something she could no longer ignore.
At school, she confronted Lucci in the parking lot before classes started.
“We need to talk,” she said.
He glanced around, then nodded once. “Not here.”
They met after school, where the old trail curved toward a dried-up stream. The sun was dipping behind the trees, casting golden shafts of light through the branches. Lucci carried a leather-bound book—aged, worn, etched with strange runes that seemed to shimmer faintly in the light.
“This belonged to my father,” he said, offering it to her.
Rhea took it with reverence, running her fingers across the worn cover. When she opened it, the scent of pine and old paper wafted up, sharp and ancient.
Inside were hand-drawn sketches of wolves, ancient clan symbols, rituals, notes about full moons, and detailed lineage records that made her heart lurch.
Her name was there.
“Calderon,” she whispered. “Why is my name in this?”
Lucci’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “Because you’re one of us. Maybe not full-blooded. Maybe not turned. But the blood runs through you.”
Rhea’s hands trembled as she flipped the pages. There were entries about moon cycles and awakenings, about ‘latent bloodlines’ and ‘triggering events.’ One entry read: ‘The call grows louder near the sixteenth year. Those who resist may still awaken later, though often under stress, fear, or heartbreak.’
“My brother,” she said, voice hoarse. “Eli… he was close to shifting?”
Lucci’s expression softened. “Yes. Too close. That’s why they took him.”
“Who?”
“The rogues,” he said, voice low. “Wolves who abandoned the laws. They’re not like us. They hunt those who are awakening before they’re ready—before they understand what they are.”
Rhea felt her world spinning. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“We tried. Your family ran.”
She shut the journal, her fingers gripping the leather cover tightly. “So what happens to me now?”
Lucci hesitated. “You’ll awaken. Whether you want to or not. The signs are there—your senses, the dreams, the pull. It’s starting.”
“Then teach me,” she said.
He looked at her for a long moment. “Are you sure?”
“If they’re coming for me, I won’t just sit and wait.”
Lucci nodded slowly. “Training starts tonight.”
That evening, she returned to the forest, bundled in layers and armed with nothing but determination. Lucci was waiting at the clearing, already barefoot, already connected.
“You’ll need to ground yourself,” he said. “Close your eyes. Listen.”
Rhea obeyed, trying to steady her breath. At first, all she heard was her heartbeat. Then—rustling leaves, distant birds, the steady hum of the wind. And underneath it all, something else: a thrum. Like a drumbeat buried beneath the earth.
“That’s the pulse of the pack,” Lucci whispered. “We are never alone.”
He handed her a silver pendant. “This will help you focus. It’s a family relic. It once belonged to someone like you—caught between human and wolf.”
The pendant pulsed faintly in her hand. She gripped it tightly, and warmth spread through her chest.
They trained under the moonlight, her body learning to move differently. She fell. She stumbled. But she also began to feel the rhythm. The grace. Her instincts stretched like muscles waking from a long sleep.
“You’re fast,” Lucci said after an hour. “Too fast for someone untrained.”
Rhea smirked. “Guess it’s in the blood.”
They stopped to rest beneath an ancient oak. Rhea leaned back, catching her breath, the silver pendant still in her palm.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked.
Lucci looked at her, golden eyes unreadable. “Because I couldn’t save Eli. But maybe I can save you.”
She looked away, throat tight.
“But it’s not just that,” he added. “You were never a stranger, Rhea. Even as kids. I knew, somehow, you were important.”
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, she felt it again—that pull. That gravitational force that connected them.
“I don’t want to be saved,” she whispered. “I want to fight.”
Lucci smiled, slow and fierce. “Then fight with me.”
- Writer
