Lena woke with the echo of a howl still vibrating in her bones.
Her eyes flew open, breath shallow, heart racing—not with fear, but with something far more confusing… recognition.
She sat up slowly, the dim light of dawn casting lavender shadows across the room. Her skin was damp with sweat. Not from heat, but from the ghost of something that felt… too real to be just a dream.
She looked down. The sheets were twisted around her legs, like she'd fought something in her sleep.
Or run from something.
Or toward something.
Her hands shook as she rubbed her face. Her head throbbed—not like a headache, but like… a pulse. A calling. A beat drumming in her blood that didn’t match the quiet morning world around her.
Then she saw it.
On her wrist. Just below her palm.
A mark.
Circular. Fain
