chapter 2
697 Words
By noon, I’ve scrubbed floors, polished tables, sorted training gear, and carried supplies back and forth until my arms feel like they might detach and roll away on their own. But none of that bothers me as much as the constant, slow burn under my skin.
It hasn’t stopped since dawn.
I keep flexing my fingers, trying to shake it off, pretending it’s just stress, pretending I’m normal.
Normal wolves don’t have tattoos that grow hotter the closer they get to adulthood. Normal wolves don’t feel something ancient pacing beneath their skin like a caged animal.
I breathe out shakily.
“Don’t stop moving,” my stepmother snaps behind me. “You’re not here to daydream.”
“I wasn’t,” I mutter softly that only I can hear, carrying another stack of folded cloth toward the hall.
But the truth is… I am distracted.
Tonight is the Ceremony.
Eighteen.
The age your wolf becomes fully connected.
The age your fate decides itself.
The age everything changes FOR NORMAL WOLVES - An emphasis on that.
I don’t know what will happen to me.
I’m not even sure the pack will allow me to stand with the others. I’m the Beta’s stepdaughter, the disappointment of the house, the girl with nothing to offer except silence and a tattoo no one can ever see.
I push open the doors to the ceremonial hall.
The room is huge, stone walls, burning torches, the giant crescent-moon emblem carved into the floor. Wolves rush around making final preparations.
Rylan is at the center of the chaos, giving orders like he already wears the Alpha’s crown.
He turns slightly, and for a second, his eyes land on me.
Not with interest.
Not with curiosity.
Just… annoyance, like I’m a dust speck someone forgot to sweep up.
“Don’t drop anything,” he says, voice clipped.
I look away quickly and keep moving. I won’t let him see he gets to me.
As I pass the long table, I hear someone whisper, “Why is she here?”
“Probably cleaning. That’s all she’s good for.”
“…Still weird her wolf hasn’t shown yet.”
My stomach twists.
I walk faster.
---
By the time sunset bleeds across the sky, the entire pack gathers outside near the ceremonial stones. Fires crackle around us, casting long shadows across the ground.
I stand behind everyone, where I belong.
I tug my sleeve lower.
My wrist feels like it’s glowing even though it isn’t.
The Alpha’s voice booms through the clearing.
“Tonight, we honor the wolves stepping into adulthood. May the moon reveal their strength and destiny.”
Everyone cheers.
I swallow hard.
My heart beats too fast. The burning in my arm spikes, sharp and hot.
“Not now. Please. Please not here.” I murmured to myself.
The moon rises slowly.
Beautiful.
Bright.
Powerful.
I try to breathe, but the air feels too thin.
Just then, a power surge hits me like a wave, rushing up my arm, spreading through my chest, knocking the breath out of me. I grab a tree for balance, biting down a cry.
No one notices me.
Everyone is focused on the rising moon.
But my skin, my tattoo....
It’s reacting.
The runes pulse once.
Twice.
Harder each time.
My vision blurs.
Voices around me fade into a distant echo.
I press my hand over the bandage, but it’s too late, the heat is climbing, humming, alive.
Something inside me wakes.
A spark.
A voice.
A presence.
And then the runes flare beneath the bandage so brightly I can see the light bleeding through the fabric.
My breath stops.
No.
No.
NO.
If anyone turns around..
if anyone sees..
The Alpha’s voice suddenly cuts through the air:
“Let the wolves step forward!”
The crowd shifts. Heads turn.
And I do the only thing my fear allows me to do.
I run.
Into the shadows.
Away from the moon.
Away from the people who would never understand.
But the power in my arm only grows stronger, louder, harder to contain.
Like something ancient has chosen tonight to wake up inside me.
And it refuses to be ignored.
- Writer
