BLOOD OF THE FORGOTTEN

In Blackthorn, silence was the town's foundation. The town clung to the mountain's crooked spine like a scar, its stone and timber houses hunched against the biting wind. Smoke curled from chimneys, prayers from lips, but no one dared to speak the names chiseled into the earth, not the names of the wolves, the ruins, or the clan whose blood had darkened the soil. Remembering them was to flirt with the curse; speaking their names invited death. Selene Veyra had inhaled that silence since birth, as if it were smoke. Her family’s house perched on the town's edge, close enough to feel the forest's nighttime breath. Pines pressed silently against her window, whispering secrets only she could hear. Her mother kept her at arm's length, as if Selene’s touch were contagious; her father hardly acknowledged her, and her sister pretended she wasn’t there. Sometimes Selene wondered if she was there at all. By seventeen, she had mastered becoming invisible. She slipped through the crowded market like a shadow, her silence at home expected and demanded. She was a ghost with breath, a mistake that walked. But Selene dreamed. Lying awake in her narrow bed, she imagined leaving this mountain, stepping into a world where her name wasn't a whisper of pity or contempt. She dreamed of someone seeing her not as a burden nor a source of shame but as though she were chosen, cherished, and desired. Dreams were her lifeline. The solstice festival arrived, its firelight painting the snow as music lifted into the cold night. Blackthorn clung to the winter solstice as a fragile shield against the wolves that prowled the mountains. Torches lined the streets, children sang, and offerings filled carved stone bowls. Unseen, Selene wandered among the festivities, flames catching in her pale hair, momentarily making her feel alive. At the square's edge, she paused, watching couples cling together against the chill. A boy reached for a girl's hand, their laughter soft and warming, and inside Selene, an ache emerged, sharp enough to steal her breath. She craved just once to be touched, chosen, and seen. But then her mother’s voice cut through like a blade. “Selene,” she snapped, as if calling a stray dog. “You shouldn’t be here.” Warmth vanished from Selene's chest. Without a word, she turned away, music fading behind her as she disappeared into the forest. The trees swallowed her whole. Why her feet carried her so far, she didn't know. Perhaps it was the need to breathe where no one could watch her. Maybe it was the wind's whisper tugging at her bones. As she ventured deeper, the world hushed until the snow beneath her boots was all she heard. Then, a sound reached her, a low growl, shaking the air. Her breath caught. Between the trees, eyes glowed, a crimson flicker, unnatural and hungry. A wolf emerged from the shadows, larger than any she'd imagined, its fur as black as midnight, teeth glinting in the moonlight. Selene froze. Her body screamed to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. The wolf advanced, gaze piercing her, as if seeing into her very core. It lunged. She crashed into the snow with a cry, its weight heavy on her chest. Fangs pierced her shoulder, igniting fire through her veins. She screamed, thrashing, but her voice died as visions shattered her world, flames consuming Blackthorn, the moon bleeding, and wolves locked in endless war. A voice whispered in her mind. “Mine” She went still. The wolf's eyes burned brighter, breath hot against her skin. It should have torn her apart; it should have left her for the crows. Yet, it lingered, gaze locked with hers until the fire in her veins drowned her fear. Then it vanished. The weight lifted. The forest lay empty, snow unbroken except for her trembling form and blood steaming against the frost. Selene clutched her wound, breath shaking, heart racing like it wanted to escape her chest. She should have died. She should have been devoured. Yet she felt alive. Every sound sharpened: the river's distant rush, branches whispering in the wind, and her own pulse thrumming. Her skin burned, bones ached, and beneath it all, that voice echoed. “Mine” Selene staggered to her feet, clutching her shoulder as dark stains spread in the snow. She should run home, scream for help, and plead to be rescued. But her legs led her deeper into the woods, toward something unseen. Toward the ruins where the Forgotten had perished. Blackthorn's silence had finally been shattered. Selene Veyra would never be invisible again.