THREE: DOCTOR AURELIA DAWN.
1458 Words
REYA’S POV
The wheels crunched over the gravel as I slowed near the edge of the forest. The tall trees parted like an old memory making room in my mind, and there—beyond the arching limbs and familiar scent of pine—lay the place I had once called home.
Nightbane.
My hands trembled on the steering wheel. The breath caught in my throat refused to move. Even the soft purr of the engine felt too loud in the silence that settled over me.
I was back.
The car came to a slow stop at the automated gates. Sleek steel bars now stood where wooden posts used to be, flanked by solar lamps and motion sensors. A man in a security uniform stepped out of a booth and smiled politely.
“Dr. Aurelia Dawn?”
I nodded once, hiding the shake in my hands.
“Welcome to Nightbane. We’ve been expecting you.” He waved the gates open with a gentle clang.
The drive Into the heart of the territory felt like walking through an echo. Everything had changed, and yet the bones were still the same. The forest that once sheltered me still stood tall and ancient, but new structures had risen among its roots. Roads paved with polished stone. Modern buildings with gleaming windows. Drones buzzed quietly overhead, tracking movements and patterns. Children played in structured parks. People walked with ease and pride.
It wasn’t the same pack I remembered.
The air smelled cleaner now, less of earth and sweat, more of sterilized perfection.
It was efficient. Evolved.
I parked near the new medical wing—an impressive glass-and-steel structure gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The plaque on the front door read: Nightbane Healing Center.
I climbed out of the car and stood still for a moment.
The wind curled through my red hair. I closed my eyes, letting the breeze brush my skin, as if it might strip away the weight pressing down on me.
They wouldn’t recognize me. They couldn’t. My long brown curls were now a vibrant crimson, and the warm amber of my eyes had been replaced with the cool sheen of gray—contact lenses I’d worn so long they felt like part of me. Even my scent was buried beneath layers of herbal tinctures, medical-grade perfume, and years of distance.
The girl who had run barefoot through these woods, crying into the night, was dead and buried.
In her place stood Dr. Aurelia Dawn.
“Dr. Dawn!” a voice called out, lilting and excited.
I turned and saw a small group heading my way. Four women and two men, all dressed in the deep blues and silver threads that marked them as inner-circle staff. Welcoming committee, no doubt.
“Welcome,” one of the women said, beaming. “It’s an honor to have you here.”
“You’re so beautiful,” another said quickly, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen hair that color—goddess, it suits you perfectly.”
“Your eyes,” one of the men added, stepping forward with a respectful smile, “they’re almost… silver. Like moonlight. Incredible.”
Compliments. Too many. Too kind.
I dipped my head and smiled with practiced grace. “Thank you. I’m happy to be here.”
Lie.
“Let me help with your things,” the youngest woman offered, already reaching for my bag.
“We’ve prepared your quarters,” the older man explained. “It’s right by the forest’s edge. You’ll have privacy and a view of the eastern ridge.”
“I was hoping to settle in before meeting the council,” I said, voice calm. “Perhaps in the morning?”
They all exchanged knowing looks.
The older woman chuckled. “Ah, I’m afraid not. The council insisted on a dinner tonight. It’s informal, but they’ve been waiting for you. Especially Alpha Ashriel.”
That name.
I smiled tightly. “Of course.”
We walked slowly toward the central hall. My eyes swept the territory, absorbing every shift in the landscape. The training yard had doubled in size. The council building gleamed with new stained-glass windows. Even the lanterns had changed—sleek, solar-powered spheres now dotted the stone paths.
Still, I remembered where every step had once led.
And in every corner, there were ghosts.
I forced my mind to focus on the present. I couldn’t afford a single crack in my mask.
As we neared the dining hall, a flutter of tension curled in my stomach. I brushed it off—until the oldest woman glanced at a communicator clipped to her collar.
“He’s on his way,” she murmured.
And I froze.
My wolf stirred.
It was a subtle thing at first, like the twitch of muscle memory. A cold breeze brushing against the back of my neck. A flicker of awareness, ancient and feral, waking from sleep.
No.
Not now.
For eight years, she had been gone. She had disappeared through rejection, through loneliness, through every night I begged the Moon Goddess to take away the ache. She hadn’t moved when I nearly died from fever in my first year of training. She hadn’t whispered a word when I took my oath as a healer.
But now—now she paced inside me like a caged wolf on heat.
He’s near.
Her voice was dry and raspy. Unfamiliar, almost frightening.
I clenched my fists at my sides.
No. No. You don’t get to come back now. Not for him.
They opened the banquet doors, ushering me into a grand hall lined with lanterns and rich oak tables. The council sat at the far end, speaking in low tones. Platters of food steamed softly. The scent of roast meat and herbs filled the air.
But I couldn’t taste it.
Every instinct I had told me to run.
And then—
He entered.
I didn’t have to see him to know it was him.
Ashriel.
The name alone tasted like ash on my tongue.
He hadn’t changed much—not really. Not in the ways that mattered. He still moved with the grace of a predator, every inch of him carved from power and purpose. Still looked at the world like it belonged to him and it had better be grateful for the honor.
But there were new things too.
The scars that hadn’t been there before, etched along his neck and peeking from beneath the collar of his jacket. The storm behind his eyes, colder now. Sharper. More closed off.
He scanned the room casually at first, as if none of this meant anything to him. And then his gaze locked on mine.
And everything went still.
The sounds, the chatter, the lights—everything drowned beneath the sudden roar of blood in my ears.
My wolf stopped pacing.
She stood. She howled.
I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to feel it.
But it was already there, rushing through my veins like fire, ancient and undeniable.
The bond. The soul-tugging, marrow-deep, fate-spun thread.
My breath hitched in my throat.
No.
No.
This couldn’t be happening.
The Moon Goddess… She wouldn’t—she couldn’t be this cruel.
Eight years. Eight years of carving myself into someone new. Of dyeing my hair and hiding my scent and masking every inch of the girl I used to be. Eight years of swallowing the screams and the grief and the rejection. Eight years of studying, healing, working twice as hard to be respected in places that didn’t want me.
Eight years of silence from my wolf.
Eight years of lonely nights and quiet strength.
And eight long years of turning away every man who ever looked at me with warmth—because deep down, I had already buried that part of myself. Because I thought that part of me had died.
Only to come back here… and be told that my mate—the one the Goddess saw fit to give me a second chance with—is him?
Ashriel Nightbane.
The man who broke me.
The Moon Goddess must be having a good time watching the circus of my life.
Because this?
This was a joke with a cruel punchline.
My heart was thunder in my chest, trying to escape. I opened my mouth to deny it, to curse her, to scream.
But the word was already rising in my throat, unbidden, unstoppable.
Across the hall, he moved in time with me. His expression had changed. Gone was the aloof confidence. Now his lips were parted, breath uneven, eyes locked onto me like a man possessed.
We both knew.
Our wolves knew.
And then, at the same time—same breath, same heartbeat—we said it.
“Mate.”
- Writer
