Scarlet
"This isn’t you, Scarlet."
The white wolf's voice echoed in my mind like a haunting wind slipping between the cracks of my thoughts. It had followed me ever since that morning in the grove. Soft, solemn, but unwavering.
I didn’t want to believe her.
She said I let something dark inside. But I hadn’t asked for this. The ritual was supposed to be the end of weakness. The birth of power. Of purpose. Of becoming.
Not... this.
Not waking up far from home with a mark over my heart and the ground watching me. With no explanation!
And definitely not with this gnawing thought in the back of my head that maybe, just maybe, something had changed inside me in a way I couldn’t undo.
But I didn’t want to be that girl—not anymore. The girl who spiraled, who doubted, who ran.
So today, I
